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"Yes. Sorry, I meant to tell you. She survived surgery. She's still critical but also alive."

"That's excellent. Is she safe in the hospital?"

"We've put guards on her door. No one will be able to whisk her away somewhere."

"Not even if they set a fire in the stairwell?" she asked dryly.

"Not even if they set the whole damn place on fire. The guards will make sure no one gets to her."

"Good. Megan might be able to tell us how to connect all your circles."

"I hope so. She won't be awake for hours, so that will be tomorrow at the earliest. I don't believe she knows everything. But she knows something."

"Enough to almost be killed," she said.

"I thought we were done talking about the case."

"You're right." She held up the remote. "And I think this conversation started with what do you like to watch?"

"Pick anything you want, and I mean it, Rachel. Don't stop on a channel because you think I might not like it. Pick for yourself."

She met his gaze. "You think you know me, don't you?"

"I'm starting to. And the more I get to know you, the more I like you," he said, surprising her with the direct words.

"You like me? The thorn in your side?" she asked, remembering TJ's words at the barbecue.

"You do have your thorns. But your determination to protect your patients is admirable. Your willingness to put yourself on the line impresses me more and more each day." He paused. "I was wrong about you, Rachel. I wish I could change the past."

"I appreciate that, but you can't change anything. And maybe that's okay. We live and we learn, right?"

"I'm just sorry I hurt you."

"I'm sorry about that, too, but we've moved beyond all that, haven't we?"

"I'd like to believe we have," he said, giving her a speculative look. "But I think you have to answer that question."

She thought for a moment and opted for complete honesty, because there was no reason to speak anything but the truth. "I can't keep hating you. You saved my life, for one."

"And for two," he challenged. "Because I don't want to just be the guy who saved your life."

A nervous tingle shot through her body. "What kind of guy do you want to be?"

"I want us to go back to being the couple who collided with each other outside the bar, who felt an instant attraction, connection, who talked for hours that night and had a hell of a hot kiss that I don't believe either of us wanted to end."

Desire ran through her as his words took her back to that moment. "I had never felt that way so fast before," she murmured. "It was like you looked at me and opened a door I had always kept locked. I'm not good at letting people in. I'm too afraid of the risk. I want closeness, but I'm terrified of it, too."

He gazed back at her. "Closeness scares me, too. I saw my mom give up her whole life for my dad and then again for my stepfather. I saw my brother give up his dreams for the family. I felt like love was a sacrifice, like I had to give up some part of myself to get it."

"Maybe you do have to give up a part of yourself—the part that's afraid."

He took in a sharp breath. "We should pick something to watch. This is getting a little…"

"Intense?" She turned off the television and put down the remote. "I don't want to watch TV."

"What do you want to do?"

She'd never been asked such a direct question, one that deserved a direct answer. All her usual insecurities and cautionary voices were yelling at her to stop, danger ahead. But she was tired of playing it safe. "I want," she said purposefully.