She’d only just met the guy, after all – and a sad fact of her job was that she simply couldn’t fall apart every time a patient died, even if she still felt pangs of sadness when it happened, since she wasn’t heartless. But it was just the way things were, that not every person who came in could be saved.
But for some reason, in this case… I feel like I have to know forsure.Even if that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.
And even if, somehow, her heart was telling her to believe she’d know it if things had turned out badly, in a way that sheknewwas one hundred percent irrational and against every bit of mental training she’d ever gone through that told her the only way to survive in this job was to be okay with the idea thatthings turn out how they turn out, and I can only do my best.
They say that denial is the first stage of grieving,she thought wryly. But then again, she’d learned to trust her gut over the years, and it had never steered her wrong – well, at least when it came to work.
Men, now that’s another story,she thought, her lip twisting.
The vibration of her phone jerked her out of her circling thoughts, and she looked at it apprehensively. Her shift manager’s name popped up.
No problem! Take care, and rest up so that you can stay healthy for your holiday. You deserve it!
Maisie could’ve almost cried with relief, even though her holiday had slipped to the back of her mind. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to manage to have a relaxing time, given today’s events, but hopefully she could just put it all out of her mind and forget about it.
I mean, an insanely hot guy crashing into your bedroom while oozing green goo from a bullet wound… why would you ruminate on something like that?!
Something a little stronger than piña coladas served in half a coconut shell was probably going to be required to forget all this.
Maisie wondered just how long she was going to stay here. All night, maybe? Was she really going to drive to the airport tomorrow on zero hours of sleep? She could only imagine the reception she would get at work if she got herself into a car crash through her own careless behavior.
Still, the idea of going back home at this point seemed intolerable. Despite all her self-talk about how unprofessional she was being, about how she couldn’t possibly expect to know how Rhys was doing, about how she wasdefinitelygoing to put all of this out of her mind and just go on her holiday… somehow, Maisie knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t know what had happened to Rhys.
In the end, she decided to be firm with herself, and give herself another hour. After that, she had to go home.
The sound of passing cars spraying puddles in their wake lulled her into a somewhat
relaxed state, and so she almost missed the dark figure that slipped out through the doorway across the street.
What? No way!!
Maisie sat bolt upright, though she knew there really wasn’t any possible way for her to recognize anyone through the heavy rain that had just started bucketing down.
Especially not someone she’d only met once, in a flurry of activity.
Andespeciallynot someone who should still be lying down in a hospital bed, bandaged up and on a fluid dripat the very least.
She’dseenthe condition Rhys had been in – she’d examined him with her own two eyes.
Butyes way, apparently – it was definitely Rhys, shoulders hunched over against the rain but otherwise upright and ambulant, and not seeming to be in any pain whatsoever.
It was impossible. He’d been on death’s door just a couple of hours ago. Whatever else had gone on that she didn’t understand,thathad been real.
She was out of the car before she even realized it, kicking the door open and running across the road, heedless of the rain, and storming toward him.
“YOU!”
He stopped short, looking surprised – thought probably not half as surprised as she felt. But today had just been too,tooweird, and she wanted answers.
“What the hell are you doing up and about?!” she demanded, aware that she was waving her finger in his face, but unable to stop. “You shouldn’t even be awake! Hell, I’m not even sure you should bealive!”
He stared at her, his face the very picture of perplexity. And okay, it was actually pretty cute, his golden-brown eyes wide in confusion, his mouth slightly open, the rain slowly plastering his dark hair against his skin, and – she noted in a shallower, more primal part of her mind – doing the same with his shirt. She’d already known he was ripped from when she was treating him earlier, butyowza.
You can’t be thinking about this now! It’s not relevant! Or appropriate!
But still, at least with all her staring, she noticed the faint outline of a bandage underneath his shirt, and in a way, it was almost reassuring – it let her know that shehadn’tjust imagined the events of the past few hours. Even if they still made zero sense.
“Well?” she went on, knowing that she was being unfair, but unable to stop herself. “You just burst through my bedroom window, covered in blood from gunshot wounds and oozing something that looks like it’s straight out ofThe X-Files, and you tell me to drive you to your mysterious secret clubhouse where they whisk you away and kick me out, and now you’re wandering around like you don’t have a care in the world? And now you won’t even tell me what’s going on?!”
