CHAPTER ONE

      WITH HER NOSE almost pressed up against the glass, Ellie stared at the row of incubators. Inside babies, some no bigger than the palm of her hand, lay covered in wires, tubes and nappies and hats that seemed far more suited to bigger, stronger babies. Dwarfing them even more.

      She tried to swallow, but her mouth and her throat were dry. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her legs were feeling as though if she didn’t sit down within the next ten seconds she was going to collapse.

      Ellie pressed her hand to the glass to steady herself, trying not to look at the faces of the parents who sat by each baby. She didn’t want to see the pain on their faces and be reminded of her own grief. At least these parents still had hope.

      Being here was bad. But it was something she was just going to have to get through if she wanted to achieve her dream of becoming a doctor. The university had placed her here—in the NICU. The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Queen’s Hospital. So she didn’t have a choice.

      It was just a few weeks.

      I can do this.

      This part of the hospital had been nicknamed ‘The Nest’, because all the premature babies looked like scrawny, pink newborn birds. Here they got rest, warmth, food and protection, in the hope that one day they’d fledge and leave The Nest to go to their new homes with their families.

      This was a place of hope. These families would not do well if they sensed her fear, so she turned away from the glass and sank down into one of the chairs as she awaited her mentor, Dr Richard Wilson.

      She’d spoken to him on the phone just last week. He’d sounded a kindly old chap. Patient, sympathetic, friendly. Which was nice, considering some of the other mentors she’d been paired with during her training. He’d spoken to her at great length about what he hoped she would get from her placement with him, where she was in her training, what year of study she was in, which wards she’d worked on before, what he would expect from her. All standard stuff, but he had sounded different. Like a kindly grandfather.

      She’d almost considered telling him about Samuel, but her nerves had got the better of her, and she hadn’t been sure she’d get through it without crying, so she’d decided to delay until she’d been here a while and could judge the best time to tell her story. Because he would be bound to ask questions about it. He’d want to know about her experience as a patient. What had driven her to make the choices she faced today.

      Finding it hard to swallow, she dug in her bag for her bottle of water, rummaging past all the other items. Phone. Purse. Tissues with a soothing aloe vera balm in case she lost control of her tears and didn’t want to look like Rudolph afterwards. Pens. Notebook. A 2014 copy of the BNF that a kindly pharmacist had given her free of charge. It listed all drugs and medicines, what they were used for and what their interactions were, and she didn’t want to look stupid. Tampons, just in case, a packet of painkillers and emergency chocolate...

      Ah! The water bottle.

      She struggled to open the lid, almost burning her palm as it came unscrewed, and then she took a giant swallow.

       That’s so much better.

      Putting the lid back on, she stashed it in her bag and checked her appearance once more. She wanted to make a good impression on Dr Wilson. Show him that she meant business and that she was here to learn and get the most from her placement—even if this department did scare the hell out of her.

      She sat there trying to steel herself, knowing that if she could just get through this first day, then the next day would be easier. And the one after that. And then she’d get into the flow. Perhaps see that this place wasn’t as scary as she believed it to be. She would get past this placement and look back at her time on it and laugh that she’d been so scared in the first place!

      It was ridiculous, the state of her nerves! Allowing herself so get so worked up.

       It’s stupid. It’s—

       ‘Ellie?’

      She heard incredulity in a man’s voice and turned to see who’d recognised her, expecting it to be a case of mistaken identity. But it wasn’t. Not at all.

      Shocked, she got to her feet. ‘Logan?’ Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes. Old, painful memories whizzed by at the speed of light. Was it really him?

      Her brain scrambled to try and work out how long it had been since they’d last seen each other, but her mind couldn’t compute and the numbers remained unreachable. Was she overjoyed? Yes. Was she apprehensive? Oh, yes. It had been years. Years since she had last seen him and he’d broken her heart by telling her that he thought it best if they were just friends.

       Did I ever really get over you? No.

      He’d devastated her that day. Had ended all her dreams of the future back then. But perhaps that had simply served to begin making her who she was today. Stronger. More independent. Perhaps she should thank him for that first strike against her heart? It had made her ready for all the others.

      Physically, he looked different. Changed from the gangly youth of their teens into a broader, more solid-looking man. Wider at the shoulders, with a squareness of jaw that was now more pronounced. The years had been good to him and he’d clearly thrived without her.

      Would he look at her and think the same? Probably not. She wasn’t the entrepreneur she’d always said she’d be. She wasn’t at the top of some corporate ladder, wearing a power suit and waving a platinum card. She’d gone back to the beginning. Was a student again. She was on the bottom rung of the career ladder when she’d always aspired to be at the top.

      She noticed he wore a name badge clipped to his belt—a sign that he worked in this hospital, identifying him as a member of staff. A doctor, of course. He’d left her behind to become one. His father was an oncologist, his mother had been... She struggled for the memory. Oh, yes. An obstetrician. When Logan had left her to pursue his dream of medical school she hadn’t known what speciality he wanted to pursue. She hoped it wasn’t this one.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, hoping he was just passing through. Maybe he was dropping off some notes for a patient and then he would be gone again. Hopefully to work in the department that was furthest from this one. Gerontology, perhaps?

      ‘I saw the name in the diary, but I didn’t think it would be you.’

      In the diary? Why was he looking in the department’s diary? Surely that was private to Dr Wilson and his staff?

      A sense of dread began to filter its way into her body, but she didn’t want it to show on her face. She looked up and down the corridor, past the black and white artistic photographs of babies, past the