Far from the engaged, social boy that his nephew had been when Flávia was around, as soon as they’d got home to London, Brady had started locking himself in his room and working on projects alone. No amount of cajoling had brought him out—not even Oz’s famous cooking—and all the nature programmes that Jake had sat watching, just so that he could keep connecting with his nephew, was going to waste.
And he needed Flávia. Though not to resolve the problem for Brady...so much as to resolve the problem with himself.
How many times had he replayed that last conversation, trying to read every nuance? Trying to understand the fear which had made him say what he’d said. Words which, in his head, had sounded so logical and well-considered, but which had haunted him as a mistake ever since.
But there was one other thing stuck in his head.
Flávia’s expression when she’d been talking to the doctor, and then the way she’d looked at him.
There had been something ther
e—something he’d missed—but no matter how many times he replayed it, Jake couldn’t get a handle on it.
His mind was still stuck on it when he pulled the car into the drive and shut off the engine to talk to Brady, but the boy was already snatching at the lever, practically hurling himself out of the vehicle and racing to the front door when he jabbed his finger at the hi-tech security lock.
Jake was fractions of a second away from letting Brady just run away when an image of Flávia popped into his head. A memory of her crouched down in front of the boy, talking to him on the same level, never dismissing his opinions or feelings.
With a sigh, he followed Brady up the stairs. He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t.
Jake raked his hand through his hair and stared at the solid piece of wood as though willing it to open in front of his very eyes.
Maybe for Flávia it would have done so. But it didn’t open for him.
He lifted his hand, second-guessed himself, and then—at last—he knocked on Brady’s door, trying to affect an upbeat tone.
‘You okay in there, mate?’
The door opened unexpectedly, nearly making Jake stumble back in surprise. A piece of paper was thrust out.
‘I need you to give this to Flávia.’
‘Flávia?’ Even her name made something leap inside of him. ‘You want me to send this to her?’
‘No.’ Brady clucked his tongue irritably. ‘I want you to give this to her when you see her. It’ll mean more.’
Jake raked his hand through his hair.
‘I told you, I won’t be seeing her again, Brady.’
‘Why not?’ Brady looked mutinous.
‘Because I won’t be returning to Brazil.’
There was no reason for his heart to thud so heavily, so leaden, in his chest at the finality of the statement. No reason at all.
‘Why can’t you be a surgeon out there? They have hospitals, too.’
Jake was sure he could actually hear Flávia’s voice in his head, light and happy, telling him to keep cool. He gritted his teeth and tried to sound understanding.
‘You know the answer.’
‘If you really wanted to, you could change your job.’ Brady looked so sad, so lost, that Jake’s chest pulled—taut and painful. ‘I’d rather be out there than back here.’
The worst of it was that Jake felt the same way. For a long moment, the two of them stood in their respective positions, eyeing each other up.
If he was going to win back the connections they’d started to make in Brazil, then it occurred to him that he was going to have to be a little more truthful with Brady.
‘Flávia is incredible. She made an impact on both of us—her whole family did—and I understand why you want to go back there. But I’m trying to protect you. You might not understand now but, trust me, one day you will.’