All They Need(87)

“I’m okay,” Patricia Randall said the moment she saw them. “No one’s dying or anything.”

“What happened?” Flynn asked.

“So stupid— I was making us coffee and I slipped and the next thing I knew I’d poured it half up my arm…?.”

Flynn moved closer to inspect his mother’s arm. Mel could tell from his carefully blank expression that the burn was grim.

“I’ve got an ambulance on the way,” he said, touching her shoulder. “Hang in there.”

The older woman nodded. Mel saw that there were tall stools parked beneath the overhang on the island counter and she grabbed one.

“Here,” she said, passing it to Flynn.



He gave her a grateful look before offering it to his mother.

“Thank you,” Patricia said as she sank onto the stool. She closed her eyes for a minute. When she opened them again she made eye contact with Mel and offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry that we’re meeting like this, Mel. I promise that we’re not usually so hectic.”

Perhaps Mel should have been surprised that the other woman knew her name, but she wasn’t. In the small hours of the morning, Flynn had told her that he loved her. It stood to reason that he’d mentioned her to his parents.

“The important thing is getting you looked after,” Mel said.

Adam made a choking sound and turned away.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Flynn said reassuringly.

“I’m fine, Adam. Really,” Patricia said. “A bit of burn cream and a bandage and I’ll be right.”

Adam continued to sob. Flynn reached out and grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on the counter and pressed them to his father. Adam took them without saying a word and Flynn rested his hand on his father’s shoulder while he attempted to gather himself.

Patricia’s face was both loving and resigned as she watched her husband and son. Mel’s chest ached for all of them. So much love here—and so much pain.

A faint siren sound filtered into the house. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door.

“I’ll let them in if you like,” she offered.

“Thanks, Mel,” Flynn said.

The ambulance was pulling into the driveway as she opened the front door. The driver jumped out and made eye contact with her.



“How are we doing?” he called as he helped his partner collect a large medical kit from the rear of the ambulance.

“She’s okay. A bit of shock, I think. She’s got the burn under cold water.”

“Good stuff.”

She stood to one side as the crew entered the house, their footsteps very loud in the echoing hallway.

“Straight to the end, the doorway on the right,” she instructed. She followed them into the kitchen and stood in the most out-of-the-way corner as they spoke quietly with Patricia and assessed her injury. Flynn stood with his father, one hand on his shoulder still, offering him silent support. Adam watched his wife doggedly, his mouth set.

The crew assessed the burn before applying a thick, foamy-looking pad to the entire area and bandaging it loosely. They gave Patricia an injection for the pain and finally announced she was ready to be transported to the hospital.

“Can’t you just do whatever you need to do here?” Patricia asked. “It’s really not that bad now that it’s settling down.”

Flynn opened his mouth to speak but the taller of the two ambulance attendants beat him to it.

“Ma’am, you have a third-degree burn. You need to come with us and get it seen to at the burns unit.”

Patricia frowned, her worried gaze flicking to her husband.

“We’ll follow the ambulance,” Flynn said as the ambulance attendants helped his mother to her feet.

“I’m going with Pat,” Adam said. There was a mulish set to his face, as though he was determined not to let her down after his initial panic.



“Is that okay?” Patricia asked.

“That’s fine. It’s not a long trip—we’re going up the road—but your husband is welcome to ride along.”

Mel stepped out of the way as they made their slow way out the door. Flynn waited until his parents had left the room before sagging against the sink and scrubbing his face with his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“It’s a pretty bad burn.”