Pictures. He hadn’t got much past the opening paragraph. Hadn’t seen beyond the teasing grin she’d given the camera. There’d been other
pictures?
Tim drummed his fingers on his chest. ‘I’m thinking heart?’
‘Valve replacement,’ Rhys answered shortly. ‘I have to go check something.’
He strode to the staff room, rifled through the stack of papers and magazines on the table. Please, please, please. And there it was. Folded open, well read by the look of it. Gritting his teeth, he skimmed over the first few lines, going straight to the later paragraphs.
No stranger to tragedy, has Rhys set himself up for more heartache by falling for one of his patients?
He froze, icy fingers slipping across his skin. He looked for the first time at the photos along the bottom of the page. They’d snapped her in his shirt when they were on the beach in the pale light of dawn. It was only buttoned at the waist—she looked hot and there was no hiding her fresh-from-bed hair. And there was no hiding her scar in the open vee of his shirt either. To make it worse they’d blown up the part of her chest and added it as a pop-up pic, circling the mark of the long incision.
The scar suggests the mystery beauty has had major surgery.
Hot guilt mixed with the icy dread. The words confirmed what he already knew. What had kept him tossing and turning at night. Sienna would never have sold him out.
His knuckles clenched, the skin turning white as he read on. Media intrusion was something he was used to. He disliked it and worked hard to avoid it, but it came with his name. She had no experience, had no defences built for this kind of invasion. They had no right to destroy her privacy. She would hate to have her scar revealed to the world.
He had been such an idiot. She must surely hate him. She should have been angry, should have yelled, should have put him in his place good and proper. But she’d been hurt—too hurt. And he’d been a fool to throw away someone who could care like that.
He should have been helping her—consoling her over having her life ripped open for the entertainment of the masses. Instead he’d accused her of orchestrating the whole thing.
And why? He’d been like a trapped tiger searching out something to attack. It gave him a way of shoving her back. Because he’d been on the verge of letting her right inside and it terrified him.
He raked fingers through his hair as frustration and futility ravaged his heart. Sienna hadn’t deserved that, just as she didn’t deserve this. She’d be mortified by these pictures. He looked closely at the head and shoulders shot of her at the top of the page—the one where she smiled so freely. He could make out part of the sign on the wall behind her. Recognised it hung in Reception at the hostel. Of course, it was obvious now. Curtis—who had to work all those hours because he ‘needed the money’. He’d known all along who Rhys was. The creep. With sadness Rhys read on. Not only had they debated on her history, they’d printed the details of his accident with Theo. And then they’d reprinted some of Mandy’s more painful comments. He blanched as he skimmed over them. So inevitable. So predictable. So true?
Sienna read the article again and again and again. She had no chance of sleeping on the plane. Couldn’t concentrate on any in-flight entertainment. The cabin steward was wonderfully kind and provided an entire box of tissues and a cool pack for her eyes.
Rhys, fourteen at the time, and his twelve-year-old cousin Theo were skateboarding down the street. A car, speeding out of its driveway, collided with both boys. Rhys was tossed to the side while Theo was crushed, dying at the scene…
She stared at the photos, not of herself, but of Rhys, of the way he was smiling at her—in love? So the gushing journalist said. But she knew otherwise. He’d told her otherwise. He’d never opened up. She’d asked. He’d refused. Not trusting in himself, in her, or in the bond she’d thought they had. All the while she’d been so open, he’d kept part of himself locked away. But what else could she expect when they’d started so casually? She couldn’t demand anything more serious from him just because she then wanted it.
She wished it had stayed purely physical—that searing attraction. It had been a wild coming together that had blown her mind. In the hostel they’d channelled the energy, deliberately fuelling it, pushing it. Since the first time in his apartment, she’d been unable to control anything, not least the entirety of her response.
For it was no longer just physical. Her mind was involved. And so was her heart. And all she could hear right now was her head telling her how bad her heart was feeling.
His ex-girlfriend Mandy says he’s emotionally crippled, claiming the city’s wealthiest bachelor will never wed as he’s already married to his job…
Deep anger gripped her as she read the comments. No wonder he was so untrusting, when his ex could so blithely say such cutting things. He wasn’t crippled, he was warm and caring and funny and hurt.
Now she knew his history she saw it had been for the best. They could never have had a relationship beyond a brief affair. She couldn’t give him what he needed—serenity, security, stability. There were things on her list that she’d never written down. Rules she had to live by—no marriage, no kids. She couldn’t promise her life to anyone, not when she wasn’t sure she had the power to see it through. But she needed to be a little better at observing those rules. Instinctively she’d known long-term wasn’t for her, thinking it was because she didn’t want anyone else to worry over her the way her mother and brother did. But now she knew the real reason was because she couldn’t cope with the heartache herself. She just wasn’t strong enough. And she couldn’t bear to see Rhys hurt more than he already was. He needed someone whole and well and who would be reliable. She couldn’t guarantee that. She didn’t know what her future held.
Their parting was definitely for the best.
That didn’t stop the tears rolling.
Taking several deep breaths, Rhys ducked into the supply cupboard for some space, raised shaking fingers to his face and massaged his forehead. Sienna, Sienna, Sienna.
He could no longer keep the lid on his emotions. For the first time his personal life was affecting his ability to work. He’d almost choked up over that patient. Had seen the startled look the nurse had given him. He couldn’t go on like this. Every second it got worse, not better.
He closed his eyes and caught the memory of when he’d first seen her.
The blood had pumped in his veins. His senses had gone supersonic. Everything was brighter when she was around. Hell, he was pathetic. He’d made up the whole Monroe thing to escape himself more than anything. It wasn’t about her. It had been about him. And it had backfired completely.
His world was all about life and death. He witnessed both—every day, every night. But that was just it, he was witnessing. Facilitating. Fighting for others. But not actually doing it himself. He’d been driven to make a difference—to give, to help. But he was so busy trying to save, he no longer lived his own life. He stood on the sidelines, spectating. Bound by fear. Afraid of losing. But he’d already lost.
Sienna had been forced to spectate for most of her life. He had chosen to. Now she was fighting to live it—reaching out and taking it on with both hands. Rhys couldn’t, he felt duty-bound not to waste the life he’d been given. Not when he’d been instrumental in Theo losing his. He’d work and help and never be useless again.
But didn’t he have a duty to Sienna as well? At the very least, she deserved an explanation and an apology. He couldn’t leave it unfinished. He owed her answers. He owed her honesty.
He banged his creased forehead with his knuckles. She didn’t want duty from him. She’d said he had a responsibility to live his own life. What about his life’s to-do list? He’d never even thought about it seriously. He’d never been to Peru either. Why shouldn’t he go too? Wasn’t it as much a waste of a life to focus so completely on only one aspect—in his case, work? Shouldn’t he be embracing all avenues of his life? How she tempted him. Made him long for everything.
In the gloom of the supply room it dawned on him that he’d used her—wanting the moments of bliss to break up the lifetime of guilt. And h
adn’t she used him too? To have those moments of freedom? Be treated normally? But then she’d wanted more—she’d wanted him to open up to her. Why? If it was just a fling, an affair—an extended one-night stand…
Because it wasn’t just a fling. Because she cared.
And he’d hurt her. And in hurting her, he’d hurt himself more. The least he could do was apologise. See her, explain it all the best he could. He’d never been able to apologise to Theo. He should take the opportunity to apologise to her while he had it. He had to take a leaf out of her book and seize the day. Make the most of every moment, and leave no room for regret. He locked his knuckles together. Right now he regretted everything he hadn’t done.
He didn’t know what the future held. No one did. All he knew was that he couldn’t go on in the present as it was. He couldn’t hide any more. It was too late. She was already there, lodged deep in his heart, and he had to fight to stop his heart from breaking.
A nurse came into the cupboard. Stopped as she saw Rhys leaning against the cabinet. Glanced round to see if there was anyone else in the tiny room. ‘Sorry, I—’
‘It’s OK. I was just leaving.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOMEHOW it was so typical that after five days of fairly tiring travel, a lifetime of dreaming and a huge chunk of her life savings spent, the ruins of Machu Picchu would be shrouded in mist the one day Sienna had to visit them. She’d known it would be a possibility, it wasn’t the optimum time to travel there weather-wise, but she’d wanted to go so much and hadn’t wanted to wait any longer. She’d wanted it to be the first major step on her big adventure. New year, new life. But she’d stepped into her adventure with far more of a jump than she’d planned.
And there would be no view for her. Not today. She wouldn’t be climbing the steep track. The one that Rhys had become so ‘lecturing doctor’ over. She hadn’t wanted to anyway, she’d just wanted to walk in the ancient ruins and marvel. And she hadn’t trekked all the way. She’d taken the train, taken her time, got used to the thinner air, ensured she rested as well as she could. Despite what he thought, she knew her own limitations. And it was enough to be here. Wasn’t it?