Chapter 5

I have seen some weird shit in my life, but this is next-level.

Sitting in her car, chewing on her thumbnail, Maisie ran the last couple of hours back over in her mind.

Yeah, definitely next-level. I think they'll have to invent a new level for what I've seen today.

Maisie liked to think she had a pretty finely tuned bullshit detector. It had stood her in good stead in the past, and you kind of needed to develop one as a nurse. Especially if you'd worked in pediatrics, like she had – not that you really needed that great of a bullshit detector when it came to kids, since there was really only one answer to the question ‘ So how did the Super Mario figurine get stuck up your nostril?' and ‘ It fell up there' was definitely not it.

It wasn't as if anything had been wrong , exactly – she'd followed the instructions she'd been given over the phone, despite her misgivings. If this guy really did have something wrong with him, then she wanted to do the right thing, and he'd seemed very insistent that a hospital couldn't help him.

And, she had to admit, there'd been people waiting for her when she'd pulled up outside the address she'd been given, and they definitely had seemed to know what they'd been doing. The guy – Rhys, she supposed she should call him, since he wasn't just some guy – had been whisked away on a gurney, a short, dark-haired woman barking out instructions to her assistants as they wheeled him away.

A tall, stern man who hadn't told her his name had taken Rhys's phone from her, too – and then thanked her for her time, told her not to worry and that everything would be fine. She had to assume he was the guy who'd given her instructions about how to find this place, but given what a whirl her thoughts were in, she couldn't be quite sure.

But… is Rhys going to be all right? she'd asked, trying to peer past the man and through the doors Rhys had been taken through. Which was impossible, since they were made of solid wood.

Yes, the man said, nodding. I think we can be assured of that.

Maisie had felt less certain though. He'd been passed out and getting paler and paler in front of her eyes.

And what was that green goo, anyway?

Is there anything else we can do for you? the man had asked after a moment. I'm very thankful you brought Rhys here, but you can leave anything else to us.

Maisie had shaken her head, muttering something about how it'd be nice if someone could head to her place to fix her window, since it'd been completely smashed in – and she'd only meant it as a tense little joke, but the guy had nodded and said Done, and then twenty minutes later Kara, home from her shift, had called Maisie to ask if she knew how the window had gotten broken, because there were a bunch of guys there now repairing it.

I never told them my address, she thought, chewing on her nail even harder than ever. What the hell is happening here?!

Guilt gnawed at her as she glanced at her phone to check the time. Her shift had started about half an hour ago, and earlier this evening she'd scrambled to contact a colleague who was saving to buy a house (in this economy!) and so was always looking for extra shifts, and then, feeling worse and worse with every word she typed, had texted her shift manager: Good evening! I'm afraid that I have a sore throat and a cough. Carole says she can cover my shift, so you'll be seeing her tonight instead of me! I'm sorry!

She felt bad enough about missing work – something she hadn't done in years – but now she strongly suspected her manager would just think she was skiving off to sneak away on her holiday sooner, despite the fact she'd been urging Maisie to take her masses of accumulated leave for months.

She hardly ever took time off to begin with, but taking it now – and right before going away on holidays – was eating away at her a little.

Stop it. The hospital won't crumble to dust if you take an extra day off for once in your life. And you'd be liable to give someone the wrong medication if you went in right now, you're so distracted.

This was part of why she needed a holiday, she knew. The desire to make other people happy, to make sure her patients received the best possible care at any given moment, was overwhelming sometimes. And of course those things were important, but she knew that at some point, she had to make time for what made her happy.

Maisie had seen too many colleagues burn out and quit nursing altogether, or become impatient and blasé, and she didn't want to end up in the same position. She didn't want to hate her job, or her patients, or herself.

She stared out into the darkening evening, leg jiggling nervously, looking for… she didn't even know what, exactly. The building she'd been directed to park outside was nondescript, the kind of place she would've expected to hold a combination of businesses, maybe a law firm or some architects or something. She wouldn't have thought it would hold some sort of top-secret, high-tech medical lab that specialized in treating green goo exposure… but then again, where would anyone expect to find such a thing?

In any case, the lights facing the street had all gone out about ten minutes ago. Was Rhys even still in there?

… Is he dead?

Maisie couldn't begin to explain the horror that twisted her gut at that thought. It made no sense. She'd seen so much death in the course of her work – why would the possibility in this instance affect her so much more than usual? Sure, it was a little more personal than usual – certainly, she'd never had a patient crash through her bedroom window before, or stare into her eyes so intently, or suck on her fingers , what the actual fuck – but still, there was something about the idea of Rhys having possibly died that just stunned her on a visceral level.

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.

Because…

I don't know why. He just can't be. I couldn't handle it.

There was a small voice in her head that was telling her he wasn't dead. That she would know if he was. That if he had died, she would be inconsolable.

Which didn't make any sense.

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 for sure. 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 she knew was 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 that things 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 pi?a 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 was definitely going 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.

And especially not someone who should still be lying down in a hospital bed, bandaged up and on a fluid drip at the very least.

She'd seen the condition Rhys had been in – she'd examined him with her own two eyes.

But yes 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, that had 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, too weird, 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 be alive! "

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, but yowza .

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 she hadn't just 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 of The 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?!"

Rhys blinked at her. His mouth moved a little, but no sound came out. Maybe the goo had had some sort of effect on him? Had it left him mute?

Before she could think better of it, the thought that had been swirling around in Maisie's head came bursting out of her mouth, relief at seeing him alive and well making her stupid.

" And you were sucking on my fingers!!"

That seemed to jerk him out of whatever fugue state he was in.

"Pardon?!"

"Uh… I…"

Maisie's brain caught up with her mouth… and then apparently overtook it entirely, because suddenly the torrent of words dried up and she could barely even string a sentence together. Her face grew hot. "I mean… I…" She shook her head to clear it, and raised her chin defiantly. He had done that, after all! She definitely hadn't made it up! "Like I said. You were sucking on my fingers."

Rhys continued to stare at her for so long that she started to wonder whether she'd broken him somehow.

He raised his hand hesitantly, as if to touch her arm, and she felt herself leaning in toward his touch for a moment before he suddenly pulled his hand back.

Maisie felt her mouth opening in shock.

What just happened? Why did the incredibly handsome man just reach out like he wanted to touch me?!

Rhys's mouth moved again; eventually, words emerged.

"You must be freezing."

His voice was low, and the concern sounded genuine, if a bit awkward. It was enough to leave her completely wrong-footed for a long moment.

She supposed she was pretty cold; the rain was still pelting down, and she was only in her scrubs – which were, she now realized, gulping, about as plastered to her figure as Rhys's shirt was to his pecs… and abs… and… Okay, enough of what his clothes are plastered to, for goodness' sake.

It wasn't like the weather was actually freezing – it was Sydney, after all – but it was certainly cold enough that, now that her adrenaline and self-righteousness and fear had subsided somewhat, she was starting to feel it.

Involuntarily, she shivered.

Again, Rhys made an abortive gesture toward her, and she found herself wishing that he would just put his arms around her, even as she appreciated the respect he was showing.

Part of her was yelling that she had literally just broken up with Brent, and that she didn't need to latch on to the next good-looking guy who stumbled across her path, but another, much louder part of her was just wishing that he would scoop her up into his arms and just take her away. From work, from worries, from confusion – from everything . All she wanted in this moment was to just be somewhere warm, and safe, and protected.

This isn't like me. I'm dependable. Sensible. The one everyone can always rely on.

True, that got tiring at times. And sometimes, she wanted to be the one who could rely on someone else. But why was she feeling like that now , with a guy she'd only just met?

I can't let myself go down this road again, she told herself. I can't let a gorgeous smile and a nice set of abs throw all my judgment out the window. I have to stay strong.

And yet… something in her was drawn to Rhys.

She didn't know what, or why. Maybe it was just the weird situation, or maybe it was something else. Something she couldn't explain – but it made her heart beat faster, and made her want to reach up and… and…

And what?

She gazed up into Rhys's eyes, for one brief moment feeling incredibly vulnerable. Something told her that it was safe to trust him. She didn't know what it was – and part of her was still baffled that she was acting this way – but it felt right .

Rhys stared at her for what felt like an eternity, before appearing to come to some sort of decision.

"We need to get out of this rain," he said gruffly, and Maisie nodded in whole-hearted agreement, another shiver running through her. "And I think we need to find somewhere where we can talk through a few things. But I don't have my car with me, and I don't trust any of the places around here."

That last statement struck Maisie as a little odd, though probably it was no stranger than anything else that had happened today. She supposed that someone who had just been shot was entitled to a little paranoia.

"Lucky for you," she said through chattering teeth, "my car is right here. Just tell me where to go, and I'll drive you there."

He blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Maisie scowled up at him. "Yes, really . You think you're getting off that easy? Just a mysterious ‘Ooohhhh we can't talk here, who knows who might be listening'-type thing, and off you go? No. No way! I want some answers . About everything that just happened, and about how you're even walking around right now at all – not mention who let you walk around – and just… this whole situation. So if you want me to drive you somewhere where I can get some solid answers out of you, then that's what we'll do."

Maisie took a deep breath.

She hadn't really been intending to make a little speech – it had just flown out of her mouth.

But she'd meant every word. She definitely wasn't about to let Rhys Richardson – if that was his real name – out of her sight again until she understood more about what even was going on right now.

Rhys swallowed, rainwater dripping down his throat – not that Maisie was staring at his throat.

"All right," he said, after a long moment of silence. "If you're sure. I know somewhere we can go to talk."

Maisie nodded resolutely, even as the tiniest sliver of doubt crawled into her heart.

Is this really wise? her better judgment asked her – but somehow, Maisie knew she could trust Rhys. In a way she'd known she couldn't trust Brent. She'd always known he was slime. But she'd been too hung up on trying to fix him – fix them – that she hadn't wanted to break up with him, even though she'd always known it was an impossible task.

Call me a sucker, I guess.

"Okay, great. Fantastic," Maisie said. "If you're fine with getting into a stranger's car on a rainy night, then I'm parked over there."

For a moment, Rhys looked somewhat perplexed at her words, but then he said, "Uh, yeah. I'm okay with that. But… are you okay with just driving me around in your car?"

Yeah, evidently I am, since I already did it once today, even though you were totally out of it at the time, Maisie thought, but what she said was, "I'm fine with it if you are."

Maisie couldn't understand the sudden look of hope – and happiness – that dawned on Rhys's face at her words. She only knew that her own lips twitched as she had to suppress the sudden, near-irresistible attempt to return the smile, her heartbeat thudding in her chest as she did.

It can't just be because it's been a while since anyone looked that happy to see me, surely?

"Then… lead the way," Rhys said, as if he could barely believe she was for real.

Which makes two of us, honestly!

"Okay," she said, after a moment. "Right this way – your chariot awaits."

Oh my God. Please, please tell me I didn't just say that.

Trying to hide her furiously embarrassed blush, Maisie ushered him across the road to her car, trying not to think too hard about just what a weird and potentially dangerous turn she was allowing events to take by letting a strange man who'd just been shot into her car – for the second time today! But somehow she knew that it was the right choice.

Just as long as I remember to catch my plane tomorrow. God, that'd be just my luck.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she let herself in and unlocked the passenger door, wincing as she noticed the still-drying blood on the seat. Not too much of it, at least, but it still wasn't great.

Still, Rhys didn't seem to care, sliding into the passenger seat without any apparent concern. At this point, the water they were both dripping everywhere was probably going to cause just as much damage. Her poor old Holden Astra had already been through the wars, seeing her safely through the various turbulences of her life; at this point, a bit of blood and rainwater barely made a difference.

She turned the heater on, rubbing her hands together gratefully in front of the warm air for a few moments until she could feel them properly again.

As warmth started to return to her body, so too did full awareness of her situation. Slowly, she turned to face Rhys, who was looking at her with an intent expression. There was something going on behind his eyes that was beyond her understanding – but whatever it was, it made her shiver with something other than cold.

Just what have you gotten yourself into, Maisie Dawson?

Clearing her throat, she forced herself to speak.

"Well, then. Tell me where you need to go, and we'll go there."