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After long moments, she pulled away, and wiped at her tears. ‘This isn’t just about what happened tonight.’

‘I figured.’

‘I just need a few minutes. I’ll be down soon. I promise.’

‘OK.’

* * *

Liv stayed in the bathroom for as long as she dared, not wanting Callum to have to come back upstairs, but she really didn’t want to go down and face him. She removed what was left of her make-up and pressed a cool flannel against her swollen eyes. After a few moments she forced herself to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Sadness met her gaze, and she grimaced at her reflection: she’d hoped that the harrowed, broken version of herself currently staring back at her had been left behind, along with so many other things.

She didn’t want to think about what had made her look like this, and she really didn’t want to tell Callum everything. She couldn’t bear it if he changed the way he looked at her, and the sympathy all her well-meaning friends in London had tried to hide, was reflected in his eyes.

But if anything was clear from tonight, it was that her approach of trying to bury everything in the past — or a few hours down the motorway — wasn’t doing her any good. And Callum’s offer of help had seemed genuine . . .

Before she gave herself the chance to change her mind, Liv dumped her now bloodied dress in the bath, ran some cold water over it, pulled on comfy yoga pants and a soft hoody, and headed downstairs. The sitting-room door was open, and the stove in the fireplace was flickering promisingly under Callum’s ministrations. He looked up when Liv stepped into the room, perched herself on the sofa and reached for one of the steaming cups.

‘I know it’s not exactly cold, but I thought a fire might be nice. You don’t mind, do you?’ Callum dusted off his hands and gave her a warm smile that helped thaw the cold that had seeped into her bones, and reassured her that she was making the right decision in trusting him. ‘How’s your hand?’

‘Fine.’ She wrapped her uninjured hand tightly around the cup of tea, letting the slight pain from its heat ground her. ‘So, I guess you’re wanting to know what tonight was all about.’

‘Only if you want to tell me.’ Callum picked up his own cup, and leaned against the hearth.

Liv inhaled the floral steam: chamomile instead of caffeine. She wouldn’t argue that some calming herbal tea was a good idea now. The fragrance soothed and fortified her.

‘I told you upstairs — I want to help you, Liv. You just have to let me in.’

She nodded, knowing she had to do this, but knowing it would be incredibly difficult, and would probably change how he looked at her in the future. But she couldn’t carry on as she had been, tamping down the anxiety and waiting for it to explode again.

Callum settled on the opposite end of the sofa to her, leaving her plenty of space but at the same time letting her know he was there for her.

‘I don’t know where to start,’ Liv admitted quietly as she returned her cup to the coffee table.

Callum took a sip of his drink, and appeared to watch the flames crackling in the stove. ‘My dad told me some. That there was an incident at the hospital where you worked. Is that how your wrist was broken?’

‘Yeah.’ Liv nodded, absent-mindedly rubbing the achy joint. She must have jarred it in the pub when she’d fallen. ‘You know all the posters we display, about pledges against violence and aggression, and how the hospitals and surgeries won’t stand for it, and will always prosecute perpetrators to the fullest extent of the law?’ She waited for his nod. ‘And we all talk about dealing with violent patients in team meetings, and go on de-escalation training?’

‘Yeah. You never really think it will apply to you.’

‘No, you don’t. Not until it does.’ Liv took a deep breath, steeling herself to continue. ‘It was a normal, busy weekend shift, so when the paramedics brought in an apparently drunk man with some glass in his hand, it didn’t ring any alarm bells.’

‘But it should have?’ Callum prompted gently.

‘Yeah.’ Liv nodded sadly. ‘While he smelled of alcohol, it turns out he was in the middle of a psychotic break. He’d seemed calm, and compliant enough when the paramedics brought him in, but as soon as he saw the syringe, he freaked out. I tried to calm him down, but when I went for the buzzer, he grabbed me. I managed to get away, but . . .’

‘The torsion fractures in your wrist?’

Liv nodded, struggling to breathe past the panic rising up in her throat as she relived those horrible moments. She swallowed hard, before reaching for her cup, and realising her hand shook.

Callum must have spotted it too, because he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. He held on, gently rubbing the back of her hand and flooding her with warmth. Liv relaxed, and enjoyed the sensation for a few moments before forcing herself to look up and meet his gaze, a gaze filled with such kindness and concern that she had to close her eyes to find the strength to try and pull her hand away.

But Callum held her fingers firmly, forcing her to look at him again. ‘If discussing this can help, then please talk to me, Liv.’

She nodded, knowing that she needed to talk. She’d thought about taking her hospital up on their offer of seeing a professional counsellor, but as much as she knew they worked and had referred people to them in the past, she couldn’t see herself being able to open up to a stranger about something so incredibly personal. But Callum was different — she liked him, knew she could trust him. He was her friend — at least he would be for the next few weeks or months until Tom returned from his latest sabbatical.

She pulled her hand from Callum’s, immediately missing his warmth, so picked up her cup and wrapped her fingers around that instead. She didn’t think she’d be able to get through this conversation with the distraction of his hand in hers. And if he reacted badly and pulled away from her when she told him everything, she wasn’t sure she could bare it.

‘Sorry.’ She gave Callum a weak smile. ‘This is really hard for me.’