Chapter 10: A Good Lock

The rollover took four hours, and one of the two patients walked out under her own power.

By two in the morning the department was quiet and the ambulance was back in its bay.

I was in the supply room restocking gauze I didn't need, because I couldn't think of anywhere else to stand.

I had said "after" in the rain.

I had meant it, and I had been afraid of it for five hours.

The door opened behind me.

Wyatt stepped in, still in his blood-spotted scrubs, and the door clicked shut.

Then the lock turned.

"Pru told me about the lock," he said.

"Pru can't keep her mouth shut."

"No."

He stood with his back against the door and looked at me.

I put the gauze on the shelf.

"One night," I said. "That's all I can give you."

"And you don't ask me about the city, or Dane, or why I left. I don't want to talk about any of it."

"I won't ask."

"Promise me."

"I promise." His voice was low and rough. "Bethany, I'm not going to talk at all."

I crossed the room in three steps.

I kissed him, and it was nothing like the kiss in the rain.

It was hungry, and I had been hungry for days.

He caught me by the waist and turned us, and my back hit the metal shelving, and the jars rattled.

"Careful," he said against my mouth.

"Don't be."

He made a sound in his chest and lifted me off the floor.

I wrapped my legs around his hips.

His hands slid under my scrub top, hot against my ribs.

I dragged his shirt up over his head and let it fall.

He was broad and warm, and he had a long scar down his left side that I touched with my fingertips.

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