“Come on, come on.”

      Shifting from foot to foot, Rebecca stabbed the button again, impatient for the elevator to arrive. Hearing Damon’s distinctive tread behind her, she shoved her hands into her pockets and hunched into her jacket.

      “What’s the hurry?” His dark, fluid voice sent shivers that she didn’t need down her spine.

      “I need to get to T.J. I don’t usually leave him for such long stretches of time.”

      “What about while you work?”

      “That’s different. He’s known Dorothy, his caregiver, since birth. Demetra is a stranger, and the surroundings are alien, too.” But even more than getting back to T.J. she wanted to escape. Away from the well-meaning questions, away from Damon and away from the hospital and the memories of awful helplessness it evoked.

      An elevator arrived at last, already occupied by a nurse fussing over a hospital gurney. The patient was a young man in his early to mid twenties, Rebecca guessed. One arm was in plaster. What she could see of his face was covered in lacerations, the rest hidden beneath dressings and tape. He looked as though he’d been in a particularly nasty car smash. She stepped inside, transfixed, barely aware of Damon following behind. The patient groaned and turned his head. Rebecca jerked her horrified stare away.

      The elevator sank and stopped at another floor. A beeper sounded. The doors slid open again, and the nurse and her patient were gone, the castors rattling against the endless corridor. Rebecca watched the disappearing gurney and prayed fiercely that the young man’s prognosis was better than James’s had been.

      Desperation clawed at her throat. She felt sick, light-headed. “I need to get out of here.”

      “It’s the hospital, isn’t it?”

      “I hate these places,” Rebecca said with feeling, bile burning the back of her throat.

      “Thank you for staying…for helping my mother. It made a great difference.”

      “It was nothing.”

      “Hardly nothing. She’s afraid.” He shot her a searching glance. “Was T.J.’s birth difficult?”

      She swallowed hard, disconcerted by the sudden change of subject. His conclusion was not unreasonable in the circumstances. But what to say? “All births are difficult, but the reward is immeasurable. T.J. is a blessing.”

      “He’s a son to be proud of. You’ve done well, raising him alone.”

      “Thank you.” Her mouth tasted bitter.

      If he only knew.

      “You had a short stay in hospital after—” He broke off.

      “After Fliss died. It was one night.” Rebecca kept her tone flat as the elevator jarred to a stop. The doors shuddered open to reveal a well-lit underground car park. Rebecca hurried out.

      Damon followed. “Was that when the dislike of hospitals began?”

      “It didn’t help,” she said honestly, stopping and facing him.

      “But the phobia was already there.” James, she couldn’t stop thinking of James. The hospitals visits, the hopeless tests, the sudden brutal end. In a sudden blur of pain she remembered the night Fliss died, how she’d cried as Fliss had slipped away. She blinked and forced herself to look up at Damon instead.

      His eyes were hooded, but there was none of the tightness in his jaw that she’d half expected. It was the first time Fliss had been mentioned without Damon going up in flames. That had to be progress. Rebecca sighed. She didn’t want to fight anymore. She’d had enough.

      Seeing Soula weak, ill and older had shaken her. And Rebecca had suddenly been struck by her own mortality. If anything happened to her, what would become of T.J.? She felt a disorientating sense of panic and sagged back against the wall. This was ridiculous! This place must be getting to her. The horrid memories.

      Yet deep down she knew it was more than the starkness of the hospital, the haunting memories that called to her from the past. The man standing in front of her—the emotions he aroused—was part of it, too. A sharp ache shot through her head. Dizziness. All at once wide white space closed in on her.

      “Hey, are you all right?”

      With a sense of shock she became aware of Damon’s hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. For a moment she contemplated leaning forward, resting her head on his chest and releasing the tears she’d held in check for far too long.

      But she didn’t want to reveal any weakness to him. So she lifted her head and gave him a wan smile. “I’m fine. Or at least I will be as soon as I get out of this place.”

      “Let’s get you out then.”

      But he didn’t move.