The Unveiling….

With a frank look at Nurse Hansen, Dr. Thompson inclined his head slightly toward the door. “Caro? Would you mind?”

“Of course,” she hurried to say, walking briskly toward her exit before the second word had come out of her mouth. The faster she escaped the better.

After she’d left, shutting the door quietly in her wake, Dr. Thompson moved further into the room. His hand grabbed the back of that damned turquoise chair and, with a tug, he drew it up beside her bed before taking a seat.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, his lips compressed in thought. His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers steepled together.

Then he looked up at Jackie. “I’m Max.”

For her part, Jackie looked fairly confused. “Your—?”

“I was on the bus that night,” he continued, speaking slowly. “I was the one who—”

“You saved my life?” Jackie’s eyebrows rose over a crinkled forehead.

Dr. Thompson laughed weakly. “A lot of people saved your life that night.”

Jackie batted this away with an impatient flick of her wrist. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes.”

Jackie stared up at him nonplussed. Dr. Thompson shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You were there? On that bus?” She reiterated. Then, holding up a hand before he could speak, she said: “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be dense. It’s just—it’s a bit much. To swallow. You know?”

Dr. Thompson nodded slowly.

Jackie was still chewing over this enlightening find. “That a doctor would just happen to be on the same bus as a woman who gets stabbed. I mean, what are the odds?”

“Not great,” he conceded. “Especially since it was the first bus ride I’d probably taken in five years.”

That got her attention. Pushing herself up higher on the chair, she looked over at him. His face was calm, almost expressionless. “What?”

“My car broke down three days ago. On the side of the road coming home from work.” He shrugged. “So I had it towed to a local mechanics shop, but they weren’t going to get to it for a few days, and they didn’t have any loaner cars left.” He smirked. “I guess it was a busy week for car maintenance or something. So, I decided to take the bus.”

Which was perhaps more amazing than Jackie would be able to comprehend. The last time Max had taken a bus, he’d been doing his residency.

Jackie blinked.

“I’m not even sure why,” he confessed softly. “Normally, I’d have probably just called for a taxi. Or asked one my coworkers for a lift.”

In fact, he’d been on the verge of doing just that. Jack Turner, one of the hospital’s oncologists, had also been on the afternoon shift that day. He would have gladly picked Max up…

“But you didn’t.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.” He’d pocketed his phone at the last minute, mumbling to himself it wouldn’t be worth the hassle of ride-sharing. He had a lot of documentation to do that evening, anyway. If he got there early, he just might have time to get it done before rounds. “I-I just took the bus instead.”

And no amount of logic, no amount of retrospective hindsight would tell him what had compelled this unusual decision. He’d just done it. Almost as if the decision had been made for him. He’d walked out the door and taken the few blocks necessary to make it to the bus stop. And he hadn’t thought any more about it. And then…

“And there I was,” Jackie whispered quietly.

“And there you were.”

She lifted a calm face to his. “This all still feels a little surreal. Like, at any moment, someone’s going to jump out of the closet and yell “Fooled ya! You weren’t stabbed. It was just a routine appendectomy!’ or something.” She puffed out her cheeks.

“I can only imagine.”

“Getting stabbed. Waking up in a hospital. Not remembering…I mean, before this week, the craziest thing that had ever happened to me was winning concert tickets in a bar raffle. And it wasn’t even for a band I liked that much.”

He smiled.

Jackie licked her lips, her voice high, strained. “It’s just, these are the kinds of things that happen to other people, you know? You hear about them on the news but it’s always somebody else. Never anyone you know. Certainly never yourself.” She shook her head. “I just can’t seem to wrap my head around it. That it really happened. To me. I can’t seem to make myself believe it’s real.”

He let out a long breath. He’d heard similar musings before. “Yeah….”

“And you were there!” She cried, her arms gesturing out at her sides. “You, of all people. It’s just—too, it’s too something. Unbelievable, I guess,” Jackie repeated. She tried to grin, but her lips wobbled. If he’d called for that taxi instead, if his car hadn’t broken down when it did… She played for flippancy. “I should have bought a lottery ticket that day.”

But Max didn’t smile. He wasn’t quite as willing to play the part of glibness. Because watching her now, he couldn’t help comparing her to the pale, scared woman laying on the floor of that bus. Her eyes wide, the pupils dilated wildly in a face like rice paper. Her lips had trembled as she’d gasped for breath, her fingers frantic, pulling at his wrist when he pushed down against the wound.

And her scream—he suppressed a shudder; the scream that had crawled up her throat and out of her mouth; the piecing shriek of confusion and pain, and black, naked fear. It had invaded the air, swimming against the crowded aisle as she’d lain there, her body struggling as it fought to survive….

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

At the sound of her voice, Max brought himself back to the present. Blinking, he tilted his head to one side. “Tell you?”

“That it was you,” Jackie explained. “That you were there.” There was hint of something in her voice. “You made me ask you.”

He let out a long breath at the accusation.

She pressed on. “Were you even going to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

Jackie’s brow furrowed. “But, why not? Why the state secret?” She waved her arm toward the door. “You should’ve seen Nurse Hansen when I brought it up. Cagey doesn’t even begin to describe it…”

Truth be told, Max wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told her. Only, that he hadn’t. That for some reason, he hadn’t wanted her to know. He’d have rather remained anonymous. “Does it matter?” He asked wearily, running a hand absently though his hair. “That it was me, as opposed to anyone else, I mean?”

“Yes!” She insisted, her palms slapping against the bed sheets. “Of course it does. If it wasn’t for you…” She shook her head. “I owe you my—”

“Nothing. You owe me nothing.” Max growled. This. This was why. This was precisely what he’d wanted to avoid. The look of shock and incredulity stamped across her features, the weight of coincidence or fate, or whatever—the shyness starting to steal over her person as her eyes dropped down to her lap and she reconciled him to someone of reverence.

He frowned. Being related to that of the hero, placed on a pedestal about that of mere man. He didn’t want that. He should have been used to it by now. He was used to it. As a surgeon, this was a common reaction from his patients. But Jackie—she was different. With her, it was different. Being so far removed….

“Don’t say that,” Jackie pleaded, her eyes misting. Without thought, her hand reached forward, sliding over the bedrails to grab his—just as she’d done that first day when she’d woken up so confused and alone. Her eyes lifted to his once more. “Don’t bat it away like it was nothing. It was everything. Don’t do that.”

“Okay.” Max let her fingers curl against his wrist. “Okay.”

Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “Besides, what’s that saying—save a life, gain a life?” she asked softly, refusing to let him off the hook.

Max laughed against his will. “I don’t think that’s how it goes…”

“Well. Whatever. Close enough,” Jackie insisted. She squeezed his hand. “Mark my words, Max Thompson—” Jackie’s eyes were steady on his. They were the bluest eyes. Almost violet. “Someday, I’m going to save you right back.” And with that, she let her hand go. He watched as she curled it up against the side of her body once more.

“Is that so?” he asked softly. For some reason, he didn’t mind the sound of that. Scooting the legs of his chair back, with something akin to reluctance, he rose to his feet.

“You better believe it,” she promised him, her eyes following along as he slowly moved toward the door.

“Then I’ll look forward to it,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. His fingers curled around the door latch. Maybe he wasn’t so far removed as all that…

“You do that,” he heard her call out once he’d gained the outside corridor. “You do that.”