He pushed her gently down the corridor and away from the door. Charles and Hettie stood in front of the hospital, blocking the photographers who were clamouring to move forward, but still they swarmed like malaria-infested mosquitos—poisonous buzzing creatures that had no place in civilised society.
“Step back from my hospital!” Lucas ordered in a voice Frankie had never heard before. She’d heard him conciliatory, antagonistic, thoughtful, soothing, and even angry, but never quite as furious as he did right then. His tone was acidic enough to strip paint from walls.
His angry steps slapped the linoleum floor as he headed to the door. Unable to resist, she ducked into a nearby store room and cracked open the window.
“We have allowed you to stay here, as your presence will let people all over the world know the help Astorians need. But I won’t stand for you harassing members of my staff with your unwanted attention. There will be no photos taken of patients or staff on these premises. If I hear of any being published, or videos leaked, I will personally hunt down those responsible. Am I making myself quite clear?”
Frankie put a hand over her mouth as an inappropriate desire to giggle came over her. She must be delirious; it was hardly a laughing matter. Lucas had basically just threatened the entire media. And she wanted to kiss him for it. Never before had someone done something quite so unselfish for her as Lucas had just done.
The door banged closed and Frankie stepped away from the window, fastened it shut, and hurried back into the corridor.
“That was quite the speech.”
He shrugged, high bright spots on his cheeks the only remaining evidence of his anger. “They shouldn’t be here. Why on earth would people want to look at pictures of you crying?”
“Emotions sell papers, Lucas. Whether it’s anger, sadness, love, lust, whatever. The public clamour for it and they are fed a constant stream.” It made her sick to remember how she hadn’t just put up with their intrusiveness, she’d actually actively courted it. “It’s my own fault. I used them back then, in my old life—I thought they were useful. They don’t know I’ve changed and I don’t want or need them anymore.”
“Why? Why don’t you want or need them anymore?”
“There’s no TV show now Joey and I are no longer together. I have no interest in doing some sort of offshoot. I do have plans but they don’t include being a media star. Not anymore.”
“What are your plans, Frankie?”
“I want to be a mother.” She hadn’t thought about the words before she let them loose, but they were the truth. Caring for Edward had given her a taste of something she’d never before realised she wanted; now it had taken over her and the need to be a mother gripped her with an unrelenting passion she would never be able to ignore.
“Wow.” Lucas had an unfathomable look on his face, one she couldn’t read even if she were an expert. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Me either,” Frankie admitted. “It’s not something I’d ever really thought about. I mean, Joey and I talked about kids—it was something we always thought we’d do one day, but we were always so busy. But now…now it’s all I want. How about you, Lucas, you ever think about having kids?”
“Never.”
His resolute response would’ve once stopped her asking more. But New Frankie didn’t back away from difficult conversations and hide her real thoughts away in tidy little compartments. “Never is a really long time.”
“There are things some people deserve and should do, but there are others of us that definitely shouldn’t do those things. Being a parent is something I should never do.”
“You’d make a wonderful father, Lucas.” His easy, warm bedside manner would translate into being an understanding, patient, and compassionate parent.
“You’re wrong.” He walked away from her. “It will never happen. And today, more than ever, shows me what a huge mistake it would be if I ever allowed it to happen.”
#
As evening started drawing in, Lucas thoroughly regretted saying so much, both to the media and to Frankie. Anyone could’ve recorded his little speech which was exactly the sort of adverse publicity he needed to avoid if he ever wanted to succeed in setting up his own charity.
Their day had been much quieter, fewer casualties were being brought in and most of them had minor wounds. He would suggest Frankie finish earlier than usual. They both needed, and deserved, a decent sleep. In the height of the disaster, he’d managed to keep going on pure adrenaline, but his body was tired.
If only today wasn’t the day that it was—the anniversary of his brother’s death.
It was never an easy day for him and sleep, without dreaming vividly of the accident that had killed Lewis, was rare. Years had passed, and yet the guilt still ate away at his insides; the horror on his mother’s face was etched into his memory and the accusatory glare of his father burned deep into his soul.
“Frankie?” He put his hand on her back as she bent to adjust a sleeping patient’s sheets. “It’s time to finish.”