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But that was all so academic. So unemotional and meaningless, and things with Sarah weren’t that.

Not meaningless. But what were they, then?

He pushed at the piece of metal, trying not to think about Sarah. Trying not to think about the fact he’d never see her again if he didn’t get the hell out of here. Trying not to think about the fact he’d never meet their child, nor know if it was a boy or a girl. The metal shifted slightly, but he grunted at the exertion, and his chest felt as though it were being torn apart by the effort.

The sun was beating down on him, and the long grass on either side offered no protection. He couldn’t leave Sarah alone in this mess. He couldn’t leave her to face the music, raising a Carrigan, without his protection. Rex would step up and support her; he’d do what was right and make sure she had everything she could ever want or need, but that wasn’t the same thing.

Tate wanted to be by her side, to raise their child together. He’d promised he’d keep her safe, and he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t there.

The thought galvanised him, pulling strength from deep within his soul, so this time, when he shoved at the metal, it gave just enough to land on his leg, and then he could use that to kick it the rest of the way. Even once he was free of it, he lay there for a second, almost not believing that, after what felt like hours of struggle, he was finally out. Then he was moving, scrambling backwards at first, letting out a gruff oath as he stood and his chest complained, his ribs feeling shattered inside his body. His arm, too. He’d suspected it was broken, but the weight of the pole, pushing it, had made it worse.

But he had to get away. It was the last thought he had before the ute sped into view, cresting over a hill and then careening towards him. He could make out two people in the front, and as it drew nearer, he saw Sarah was sitting beside Everett, so his whole body convulsed with relief. And then panic.

‘Stay away,’ he shouted, lifting his non-broken arm and waving it at the car, signalling what he hoped Everett already knew. But the bugger wasn’t listening. He was racing towards Tate, his expression a grim line of concentration.

All Tate could think of was their safety. Everett’s, for Max, and Sarah, for himself. And their child, of course. But Tate wasn’t stupid enough to pretend he didn’t have a vested interest in her staying alive.

‘That thing’s gonna blow,’ he shouted through Everett’s open window when he pulled up.

‘Then you’d better get in.’

Sarah was moving, though, opening her door to come around to him, her face tear-stained, her body somehow so vulnerable, shaking all over.

‘Get in the car,’ he said, fear making his tone gruff. But he had to protect her. He couldn’t have her get hurt, or worse.

‘You first,’ she challenged, moving to the back door and opening it, then coming to put a hand around his waist and push him towards it. Her face was pinched, pale. Worried. Stressed in a way he didn’t want her to feel. He grimaced as his ribs gave a sharp sting of pain, then sat down, swinging his legs in.

Sarah ran around the bonnet of the car, slammed her door, and jumped in the back seat, on the other side from Tate. ‘Damn you,’ she shouted as Everett began to drive. Tate looked over his shoulder, at the wreckage in the distance, hoping they’d get clear before it exploded. Then, softer, more shakily, she said, ‘Are you okay?’

He glanced at her, his gut twisting at the look on her face, that spoke of the worst kind of fear, and hated knowing he’d been the reason for that.

‘I’ll be fine.’

But she was trembling all over, and he didn’t know what to say or do to protect her, so he simply reached out and put a hand on hers, lifting it to his lips. As he kissed her thumb, she whispered, so softly he almost didn’t hear it, ‘I love you, Tate, and you nearly died.’

* * *

She hadn’t really meant to say that. Sure, she’d promised herself she would, but from the moment she saw he was alive, she was back to reality, aware that admitting she’d fallen in love with him would be a shortcut to disaster. After all, they’d both promised they’d be more careful than that. That was their deal, and she had no reason to think he’d changed his mind.

Only, as her words hung between them, so soft, she deluded herself, for a beat, into thinking perhaps he hadn’t heard. Or that he’d heard, and he was working out how he felt. But the longer silence stretched, the worse it felt. To have said those words to him, words she’d never said to another soul, and to know he didn’t feel the same way…

A second later there was an almighty boom, and when she swivelled in her seat, she saw red-hot flames billowing from the field.

‘I’ve already radioed for fire services,’ Everett said, voice grim. ‘Presume you need the hospital?’

She glanced at him, worry overtaking absolutely everything else.

‘I think this break’s beyond your skills,’ Tate muttered, glancing down at his arm, which Sarah now saw was bent at an impossible angle, so she felt as though she was going to vomit.

‘Tate,’ she whispered, and he turned to face her, his skin pale beneath his tan. ‘Oh, God. Where else does it hurt?’

‘I’m okay,’ he said, dismissive, curt.

Her heart bounced hard.

‘You’re not okay.’

‘It’s just a few broken bones.’