“‘Wow, you look rough. I heard you were busy—sounds like a grim night.’ He grunted. If he looked half as rough as he felt, he must look like hell, because grim wasn’t the word. ‘It was pretty dire. There were three of us in there—someone removing a blood clot from his brain while I stabilised his fractures and someone else sorted out his spleen. It was pretty touch and go for a while,’ he agreed. ‘We were in Theatre for hours. The kid’s only seven—it was a hit and run.’ Libby winced sympathetica...lly. ‘Poor little mite. How could anybody do that?’ ‘Search me. I have no idea.’ ‘How’s he doing?’ He lifted his shoulders—in truth, there wasn’t much he could add. ‘He’s stable—sort of.’ That was enough. The bare bones—all he had the energy to explain. Libby nodded, then bit her lip. ‘Can you give me a sec, Andrew? I won’t be long, I just need to finish this off.’ ‘That’s fine, you carry on, I’m not in a hurry,’ he murmured. He wasn’t.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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