Chapter 3
LYRA
This has to be a joke. A way the universe found to laugh at me today. The metro station closest to home is closed. We were just warned in the comm. No problem, right? Just get down on the next one.
The next one is also closed. I have to get down two stations away from home. And it’s raining. And I have no umbrellas on me because the forecast was sure it would be another clear day.
This is fine. This is so fine.
Rushing into the rain, I let it soak me to my bones. No other way to get home. Either I face the storm or hope for it to stop, which could take hours. No, thank you. I’d much rather get home sooner than later, where a warm bath will help me forget this day.
No matter how hard I focus on the way ahead, paying attention not to slip on the wet pavement, my mind keeps drifting.
To the man in the subway. His broad shoulders and how he made me squirm under his intense gaze even when he wasn’t looking at me.
I can’t believe I darted out of my comfort zone, and the man wasn’t even looking my way.
Heat spreads over my face all over again.
It’s the kind of embarrassment I’ll forever remember. At least no one I know was there to witness it.
That’s the thing about putting yourself out there: it may not work. Even if you try hard, there’s no guarantee you’ll get what you want. Life gives no guarantees and makes no promises.
I pout, stopping at a light to cross the street under the harsh weather. A drop of rain slides down my nose and drips to my lips. Even with how much I love my job and helping people, it still sucks to be alone. To be unlovable.
The rain stops pattering my head. I blink several times, not understanding how it could have stopped over my head when it still pounds the ground ahead of me.
Craning my neck back, I look up to find an umbrella hovering over my head.
My heart swells with the kindness of strangers.
I whirl around to face the person and thank them, but my eyes meet the last person I ever hoped to see.
My jaw drops. “You?”
The man from the subway gapes back at me.
He flinches slightly at my question. “Sorry if I surprised you,” he says in the most delicious voice ever.
I had no idea voices could sound this good.
All velvety and smooth and sultry at the same time.
A shiver races down my spine, and it’s not because of the rain on my skin.
“Just wanted to offer you the umbrella.”
I cock my head and then notice he’s under the rain to keep me safe from it. Gasping, I reach out and push the umbrella back over him. “Oh my God, you don’t need to do that!”
He pushes it back into my hands. “It’s okay. You’ll get sick if you don’t use it.”
“I’m a nurse, so I know how to take care of myself,” I say. He makes a face I can’t read. Is being a nurse something bad in his book? I tilt my chin up, refusing to accept he thinks anything bad of my profession. “Is there a problem with being a nurse?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not at all. It’s a very honorable job.”
“So?”
He looks from side to side, then pulls his hoodie closer to his face. “Listen, Lyra. Just take the goddamn umbrella.”
The way my name sounds in his voice sends delicious goosebumps down my arms. “We can share. You give me a ride home.”
He takes a beat, looks from side to side again, then nods.
The man offers me his arm, which I take, and it’s the hardest thing to stop myself from giggling.
I press my body to his to stay out of the rain.
He’s too big to share an umbrella with anyone, even if this umbrella is unusually large, and I can see his opposite shoulder is getting soaked. Not much to do if we’re going to share.
“So, do you have a name?” I ask him after we cross the street.
“Maverick.”
Even his name is hot. Talk about unfairness in life.
“I’m Lyra, but you already know that.” He just nods in response, keeping his eyes ahead.
This up close, I can smell the faint scent of him—not a fragrance, nothing artificial.
It’s just him. The citrus smell, a tang in the back of my throat, as I look up and study his profile.
His nose is crooked, as if it’s been broken before and not fixed properly.
A crisscross of small scars takes his chin and up his cheek. There’s a thicker one on his brow.
I tighten my hold around his arm. His biceps are huge, pure, hard muscle. It’s easy to read him now that I’m close to him. Whatever he does for a living, it isn’t a gentle job. Maybe an MMA fighter? A man his size could turn most others into a pulp, no problem.
“Such a coincidence for us to meet again,” I say, trying to do some small talk.
It doesn’t work. His blue eyes focus ahead.
Is he embarrassed? Did the curvy girl embarrass him this much by giving him her number?
I frown, glaring at the side of his face until he glances at me.
“Look, sorry if I embarrassed you the other day. I honestly thought you were looking at me.”
He blinks in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why would I be embarrassed?”
“You don’t look too happy to meet me again, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.”
He arches an eyebrow. “This is the way my face is. I’m not mad at you.”
“Oh?” I pull back, then rain hits me and I have to press closer to him again. “You’re not?” He shakes his head. “So you’re just... quiet and broody all the time?”
He works his jaw, but I swear his lips tilt for a second. Did I almost get a smile? “Perhaps,” is all he says.
I chuckle. This quiet demeanor of his gets me even more curious. What could I ask that would get a rise out of him? “Did you get your date, after all, Maverick?”
His shoulders grow taut, but his face doesn’t change. “What date?”
“With the woman you were looking at in the subway. The skinny blond.”
Maverick doesn’t break eye contact this time. He stares and stares as if he’s trying to read me. “No.”
I smile. “Then she’s a fool because you’re quite handsome.”
We stop. I look up at the stairs that lead to my building’s entrance. How strange. I didn’t tell him where I live, did I? Don’t remember. Maybe I started walking automatically, and he just followed along?
“This is me,” I tell him, jutting a thumb over my shoulder to indicate the spot.
Maverick makes a sound in his throat. “I know.” He does? How? I turn to find his deep blue eyes on me. “Lyra. This is not about you. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but I—I don’t do relationships. They’re a liability in my line of work.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. Hard. I look away so he doesn’t notice my eyes growing foggy. “Oh, okay. You don’t need to explain. Just a ‘no’ is good enough.”
“But I need you to understand it’s not about you,” he insists. I have to meet his eyes. They’re deep, honest orbs of worry. He’s saying the truth. But why? He doesn’t have to.
I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Okay. Thanks for the ride.” And I step away, going for my building. I need to get inside. Seeing him again was equal parts wonderful and painful. I let myself feed into hope when I shouldn’t have. Allowed myself to want to know him when I don’t need to.
He’s not staying.
I rush to the stairs, climbing the first step in a rush. My foot slips slightly, as it always does when it’s raining. Once I fell on my butt. It mentally scarred me for life. I go for the next step, and then a big hand closes around mine, keeping my balance.
I shoot a glance up at Maverick, then back at my feet.
“Thanks,” I murmur, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks.
His fingers are embers against my skin, burning, singeing.
I grip onto him, less because of need, more because I can’t let him go.
He steadies me, but he also does so much more.
This man has no idea what he’s doing to me.
After reaching the last step, he lets me go as if he grabbed a live wire. I find my keys and nod in Maverick’s direction. He steps away so I can get inside. When I turn around, doorknob in hand, he’s still there, gaping at me as if he sees much more than I do.
He parts his lips. I’m two seconds away from asking him to come in.
Instead, he dips his head in greeting, then breathes out a “goodbye.” That small word is more final than anything else I’ve ever heard.
And still, my hand buzzes with his aftertouch.
The only memory I’ll have of him, and it’ll be gone in a moment.
This shouldn’t hurt, but it does. What am I supposed to do now?