Page 4

I smile. “Hey, Evan.”

And then he’s out.

He’s heavier than I anticipated. Not impossible, but awkward, all lean, exhausted muscle draped over me like a particularly stubborn lover.

And my God, he smells good.

Even after a twenty-four-hour shift, covered in hospital air and God-knows-what, he still smells like him. That faint, expensive cologne, the clean scent of soap, the underlying heat of his skin.

I could bottle it.

Maybe I should bottle it.

But no time for that now.

It takes some effort, more than I’d like to admit, to get him into the wheelchair, his body slumping forward like a rag doll. I drape the stolen ER blanket over him, tucking him in like he’s a patient in my care.

I step back, hands on my hips, admiring my work. From a distance, he just looks like a very tired man being wheeled home by a very devoted woman.

Which, really, isn’t that far from the truth.

I roll him out the front door, casually strolling down the street as if this is just a normal Sunday morning.

Birds chirp. Lawnmowers hum in the distance. A few early risers are already moving about, walking their dogs, stretching on their porches.

I nod politely at Mrs. Sanderson across the street, who’s watering her petunias.

She waves back.

Oh, this is too easy.

I resist the urge to giggle.

When we reach my car, I slide him into the passenger seat, tilting his head against the window so he looks like a man deep in sleep, not a man freshly drugged and kidnapped.

And of course I buckle him in.

Safety first.

The wheelchair goes into the trunk with his bags. Everything is in place.

I slip into the driver’s seat, feeling warm with satisfaction, practically glowing with success.

Chapter Two

Maple

Evan has been such a good sleeper.

Honestly, I knew he was exhausted, but he’s really outdoing himself here. Twelve solid hours. Not even a single toss or turn, just deep, steady breathing, his body sprawled on the very comfortable mattress I provided for him.

I mean, sure, he’s still in his dirty scrubs, and yes, one wrist is chained to the bedframe for his own safety, but otherwise? This is a five-star experience.

I made sure of it.

Fluffy pillows, high-quality sheets, the best mattress I could find. There’s no reason to be uncomfortable just because we might have to live down here for an extended period.

But he does need to wake up before his food gets cold. While he was sleeping, I made burgers and fries.