The Doctor Meets Her Match. Annie Claydon
What kind of drugs?’ She was doing a fairly good job of staring him down. There was barely a flicker at the corner of her eye.
‘Painkillers. The kind that were prescribed for me. And others that weren’t.’
‘But you’re clean now.’
‘What makes you think that?’ He’d never be truly clean.
‘If you were still taking opiate drugs, for whatever purpose, maybe you would have slept a little better last night.’
‘Yeah. Fair enough.’ It would take more than just staying off the drugs to make him whole, but Nick was done with admitting things. That was all she needed to know. He reached for his keys, which were sitting at the far end of the table where he’d dumped them last night, and showed her the small engraved disc that served as a key fob.
She leaned forward to focus on the letters, alongside a logo with a set of initials. ‘IK. What’s that?’
‘Stands for one thousand days. In that time I haven’t had as much as an aspirin or a cup of coffee.’ Her gaze flicked involuntarily towards the cup of herbal tea in front of him, and Nick wondered how much of this she had already worked out for herself. ‘I earned this six months ago, and I’m not giving it up for anything.’
‘Your support group asks that you give up everything? Aspirin, coffee…?’
‘No. That’s what I require of myself.’
She sucked in a deep breath, seeming to relax slightly as she exhaled. ‘I’d like to help, Nick. If you’ll let me.’
She’d disarmed him completely. Maybe it was the way that sunlight from the window became entangled in her hair and couldn’t break free. Maybe her steady, blue gaze, which held the promise of both cornflowers and steel. ‘What do you suggest?’
Nick was expecting one, maybe two platitudes about not overstepping the mark again and a lecture on how effective ice-packs could be. Then she could do the sensible thing and wash her hands of him.
Instead, she drew a pad from her handbag, turned to a page of scribbled notes, asked questions and made some more notes. Then she produced a bundle of printed pages from the internet, selecting some for him to look at, which left Nick in little doubt that she had come prepared for almost every eventuality, including the one which he had just admitted to. He hadn’t thought that Abby was such a force to be reckoned with.
‘What do you think, then?’
Nick had no idea what he thought. He’d heard everything she’d said, but the bulk of his attention had been concentrated on the soft curl of her eyelashes. On trying to resist the impulse to reach out and touch the few golden strands of hair that strayed across her cheek, aware that he could so easily become trapped. ‘Sounds logical.’
She rolled her eyes, twisting her head to one side in a shimmer of liquid light, and he almost choked on his tea. ‘It’s obviously logical. But how do you feel about it?’
‘Okay, then.’ There wasn’t much option other than the truth, not with Abby. ‘I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.’
‘Fair enough, but can you do it?’
‘Stick pins in my eyes? I’d rather not.’
She gifted him with a glare that made his stomach tighten. ‘Stop messing around, Nick. Will you do this?’ She tapped the list she’d made with her pen.
A visit to a pain clinic, specialising in drug-free therapies, which Abby had assured him was among the best in its field. Taking the clinic’s advice on nonopiate painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs. Coming clean with the orthopaedic surgeon that Abby had already arranged for Nick to see at the hospital, and having him work with the clinic to provide what she termed as ‘joined-up’ care.
‘I can do it.’ This would be harder than dealing with the constant, throbbing pain in his knee but Nick saw the sense in it. It was his best chance of being able to get back on his feet again any time soon.
‘So I’ll call the pain clinic and try to get you an emergency appointment for this afternoon.’
‘I’m not a child. I can make a phone call.’ The thought that maybe she didn’t trust him hurt more than it should have. What reason had he ever given her to trust him?
‘I know. But this is supposed to be the exact opposite of what you did before. You take help. You don’t self-medicate. You follow an agreed plan and you keep everyone informed and in touch with what’s happening.’
She grinned persuasively at him. He’d missed her smile. ‘If something was on fire, I’d be letting you take charge.’
‘I have a box of matches in the drawer over there…’ He held his hands up as she shot him a look of such ferocity that laughter bubbled up in his chest. Abby had surprised him. Under those soft curves of hers there was a backbone of pure steel. ‘Okay. You win, it’s a deal.’
‘Yes… yes, a deal.’ She was suddenly uncertain, lacing her fingers around her empty coffee cup. It seemed that she too needed something to occupy her when they were together. Something to take her mind off the heat that seemed to build when there was nothing practical to focus on.
‘Would you like some more toast? That slice must be cold by now.’
‘No. No, thanks.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry to have spoiled your morning.’
‘You didn’t.’ He tried to catch her eye but she seemed to be avoiding his gaze now. ‘I treated you pretty badly, Abby. What you did this morning says everything about you and nothing about what I deserve.’
She seemed puzzled, but the comment emboldened her. ‘I’d like you to do something else, too.’
‘Go on, then. What is it?’
‘I want you to call me in a couple of days, just to let me know how things are going. Will you do that?’
‘Of course.’ It was the least he could do. ‘Or I could buy you lunch.’ The words slipped out before he had a chance to stop them. But it didn’t really matter. They’d be wearing snowboots in hell before she accepted. Doctors might forgive, but women didn’t give you the option of standing them up a second time.
She hesitated, avoiding his gaze. ‘Call me on Tuesday morning. I take my lunch at one o’clock, and if I’m free maybe we can meet up.’ She picked her phone up, briskly. ‘I’ll make that call, then.’
CHAPTER THREE
HE’D hurt her once, and she hadn’t had any say in the matter then. If he hurt her again, it was going to be her own stupid fault. But this time Abby knew the score. She wasn’t at his beck and call and she wouldn’t be shedding any tears over him if he decided suddenly to disappear again.
It was ten minutes’ walk from the hospital to the gym they both belonged to. Abby had been taking her early-morning swims at another pool for the last six months, ever since the possibility of bumping into Nick had turned from delicious excitement to self-conscious dread. But since she hadn’t let her membership lapse, for fear that might be construed as running away, she could always go for a swim if he didn’t turn up.
The screens and plants in the cafeteria had been designed to break up the area and give a little privacy for each table. Abby scanned the space. All of a sudden she didn’t want to have to walk around and then be subjected to the ignominy of sitting down alone if he wasn’t there.
‘Hey, there.’ His voice cut through her thoughts, like a hot knife through butter. ‘Thanks for coming.’
She had been feeling shaky all morning, agitated at the thought of seeing Nick again, and now she was concentrating so hard on not being nervous that she’d walked straight past him. He was perched on one of the stools at the juice bar, one leg propped up on the stainless-steel rail that ran around it at low