clamping the aorta, starting the clock, stopping the heart, grafting the veins beyond the coronary artery blockages, restarting the heart, closing up.
One hundred per cent focused. One hundred per cent absorbed.
Coming out of the zone as he stood back and peeled his gloves off, a little dazed still, as if he’d been in a trance. Registering again the smell of the mask in his nose, the trill and ping of machinery, the strains of Mozart which had been Prince Khalid’s music of choice. The murmur of voices around him as they prepared to transfer the patient to ICU.
‘Thanks, everyone,’ he acknowledged, surprised momentarily that he hadn’t been alone.
Nothing had touched him as his fingers and brain had worked in tandem. Evie had been forgotten Isaac had been forgotten. The gnawing hunger of a crappy childhood forgotten.
Just him and the knife.
Taking it all away. Centring him.
And as the outside world started to percolate in through his conscious state, he knew he needed it again.
Damn it!
Finn was surprised to see Evie at the canteen half an hour later when he dropped by to get something to eat on his way to check on Khalid in ICU. Surprised who she was with, anyway. She was sitting with Marco D’Avello and they looked deep in conversation. Marco reached out and touched her hand and Finn was annoyed at the quick burn of acid in his chest. Marco was married—happily married—to Emily and they’d not long had their first child.
What the hell was he doing, touching Evie in the middle of the canteen where everyone could see them?
He hadn’t pegged Marco as the straying kind.
Or Evie as a home-wrecker, for that matter.
And even though he knew that wasn’t what was going on because he knew Evie, it irritated him nonetheless. And not everyone sitting in the canteen would be so forgiving.
He turned away as he placed his order but a sudden short burst of laughter from Evie had him looking back, and suddenly she was looking up and in his direction and her smile died, and for a moment they both just looked at each other before Evie stood up and headed his way.
The woman behind the counter handed Finn his sandwich and drink and he headed for the door.
He didn’t want or need any Evie Lockheart chit-chat.
‘Finn,’ Evie called as he walked out the door, her legs hurrying to catch up. Drat the man—she just wanted to ask him about the surgery. ‘Finn. Wait!’ she called again as she stepped outside. She watched as he faltered and his shoulders seemed to fall before he slowly turned to face her.
She was in baggy work scrubs—her long, lean legs outlined with each step towards him, and he averted his eyes as he waited for her to catch him up before he resumed his trajectory.
‘How’d it go?’ Evie asked as she fell into step beside him.
‘Fine.’
Evie waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. ‘Prince Khalid came through it okay?’
He nodded. ‘I’m just going to check on him now.’
They walked some more in silence and Evie could have gleefully strangled him. ‘Well?’ she demanded when she couldn’t wait for him to be forthcoming any longer. ‘How’d it feel?’ she asked. ‘Was it good to be back?’
Finn stopped and shoved his hands on his hips. ‘Yes. Was that what you wanted to hear? That you were right? That it felt like I was coming home? Well, it did. And after I’ve been to the ICU I’m heading up to Eric Frobisher’s office to get myself back on the OR schedule. Eric, who is an arse and will make a huge song and dance over the inconvenience of it all, even though he knows I’m the best damn cardiothoracic surgeon in the country, just because he can. Are you satisfied?’
Evie wanted to be satisfied. Her heart was tapping out a jig and emotion, light and airy, bloomed in her chest. If he was here then maybe there was a chance for them. Maybe with the baby in the mix, Finn would eventually admit what she knew was in his heart.
But she didn’t want him to feel trapped.
‘I’m glad that you’re staying. But I don’t want you to be miserable.’
‘Well, you can’t have it both ways, Princess Evie. You can have me here doing what I do best, what I need to do, but if you want me to be whistling in the corridors and singing to bluebirds as they land on my shoulder, that isn’t going to happen.’
He dropped his