Page 50 of Under Southern Stars
He pauses, turns, that practiced smile sliding into place a beat too quickly. “Not bad for a Tuesday. Though I have to say, bed gymnastics weren’t exactly covered in residency.” The joke sounds forced, like he’s trying too hard to make light of it. “Just another save at Metro General.”
The gratitude I expected isn’t there. Instead, there’s something defensive in his posture, like he’s already building walls around what happened in that trauma bay.
Sigh.
Three weeks. Three weeks until Jack’s family, until Kiwi coffee, and until Madison gets to see somewhere beyond her father’s broken promises.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JACK
“Right, so the trick with carbonara,” I tell Madison as she hovers beside me in their kitchen, “is getting the eggs to cook without scrambling them.”
“That sounds impossible.” She’s got Sophia’s eyes but none of her mother’s caution. Curious about everything, unafraid to ask questions. “How do you not scramble eggs when you cook them?”
“Patience and temperature control.” I hand her the wooden spoon. “Want to try stirring while I add the eggs?”
“What if I mess it up?”
“Then we order pizza and try again next time.”
She grins. “Mom says you’re teaching her Maori swear words.”
“Did she now?” I glance toward the living room where Sophia’s pretending to read a magazine but really watching us. “Only the educational ones.”
Madison laughs. “Is it true you saved a whole family over the weekend? Mom showed me the video.”
“Team effort. Your mum saves people every day at the hospital.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t crawl into crashed cars.” Madison keeps stirring as I slowly add the egg mixture. “That looked terrifying.”
“Bit scary, yeah. But that’s the job sometimes.”
“Is that why you became a paramedic? To save people?”
The question catches me off guard. So simple, so direct. “Something like that.”
“Mom says you could be doing other things. Like, with your family’s business?”
I freeze for a moment, and consider how to respond.
“My family has their thing, I have mine,” I say carefully. “Perfect temperature—see how it’s coating the pasta but not clumping?”
“It’s working!” Madison sounds delighted. “This is actually easier than I thought.”
“Most things are once you understand the technique.” I add the pancetta. “I didn’t get to see the end of your soccer game, but I heard you did a great job.”
“Yeah. Dad thinks I should focus more on training, but I just like playing.” She makes a face. “His girlfriend keeps trying to get me to drink these gross green smoothies for ‘athletic performance.’”
“What’s your favorite position?”
“Midfielder. I like being where the action is.” She glances at me sideways. “Do you play any sports?”
“Rugby, badly. My sisters were the real athletes in the family.”
“Mom said one of them almost made the national team?”
“Emma. Broke her arm right before tryouts but kept playing for a week so she wouldn’t miss them.”
