Page 18 of Rescue

Abby holds up a hand. “Sorry, that’s none of my business. Forget I asked.”

I shake my head, surprising myself with how quickly I respond. “No, it’s okay. It’s just… complicated.”

She rests her elbows on her knees and studies me. “Complicated is fine. I’m a good listener.”

The openness in her gaze breaks through something I hadn’t realised I was holding tightly. The words come before I can stop them. “There was an incident.”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“It was during a secondment I took with an NGO in Tajikistan,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “We got a call about a little girl in a remote village. She’d fallen and was unconscious. We were trying to get to her, but the weather…” I trail off, my throat tightening.

Abigail leans closer, her face etched with concern. “What happened?”

I exhale, the weight of the memory pressing against my chest. “There was a landslide. We crashed. One of the local drivers didn’t make it. The girl… she never had a chance. I didn’t ask enough questions, didn’t push hard enough to find out how bad it was before we left. If I’d known, maybe I would have realised we couldn’t save her and I could have stopped the team from making that trip altogether.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw. Abigail doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just watches me with an expression that’s hard to read. Then, quietly, she says, “You can’t blame yourself for something like that. You were trying to help.”

“I didn’t help, though,” I snap, the bitterness in my voice surprising even me. “I made it worse. I put everyone at risk, and for what? A child who didn’t even make it.”

Abigail doesn’t flinch at my outburst. Instead, she studies me, her eyes steady, her expression soft. “I’m tempted to tell you not to blame yourself again,” she says carefully. “But I know that won’t help. It never does, does it?”

Her words surprise me. I expect platitudes or reassurances, but instead, she meets me where I am, not trying to pull me somewhere I’m not ready to go.

“No,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “It doesn’t.”

She nods, as if she understands. “So, what’s next? What are you planning to do?”

I lean back in the chair, staring at the wine glass in my hand. The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswered, because the truth is, I don’t know. “I’m not sure,” I say finally. “But I can’t see myself heading back out on a mission anytime soon.”

Her brow furrows slightly, and she tilts her head. “Because of what happened?”

“Partly,” I admit. “But also because…” I trail off, unsure how to put it into words. “It just feels different now. Like I’ve hit a wall I didn’t know was there. I used to think I could handle anything, but now—”

“You’re questioning if you can,” she finishes gently.

“Something like that.” I take a sip of wine, the bitterness on my tongue mirroring the feeling in my chest. “It’s not just about what happened. It’s the whole thing. The constant uncertainty, the danger, the responsibility. It’s exhausting.”

“So maybe it’s time for a change. Something that doesn’t weigh you down so much,” she suggests.

I raise an eyebrow. “A career change? After everything I’ve put into it?”

“Not necessarily a career change,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “But maybe a different direction. Something that uses your skills without pushing you to the brink.”

“Like what?” I ask, genuinely curious despite my scepticism.

She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s for you to figure out. But whatever it is, it doesn’t have to happen overnight. You’ve got time, Jon. Give yourself some grace.”

Her words settle over me, not entirely comforting but not unwelcome either. It’s strange—this woman I’ve only just met has a way of making the unbearable feel slightly less suffocating.

I set my glass down, exhaling slowly. “Maybe.”

She smiles softly, not pressing further. “That’s a start.”

The silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable, just... there. For once, it feels like enough.

Chapter 6

Jon

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