She raced up the steps, Neil’s coat under her arm, not slowing until she reached the second floor, her gaze swinging from Neil’s open bedroom door down the hallway to the closed door in front of her.

This time, she noticed the sliver of light underneath. And heard the patter of water and then the squeal of the faucet and, a second later, the sound of the shower curtain being pushed aside.

In which case, this time, she would not go barreling in. She stopped and forced herself to breathe. She would knock. Like a civilized person.

Anxious energy mingled with anticipation as she lifted her fist and rapped.

“Go without me, Lil. I’ll drive to the hospital separately.”

“It’s not Lilian.”

Silence.

And then a rustle of clothing, the sound of the door’s latch, and his head poked out, hair still dripping. “Syd? You’re here?”

“Well, you told me not to go home until Sunday and it’s not Sunday, so . . .”

“Hmm.”

Not what he wanted to hear, clearly. Which did her nervous heart a world of good. “Are you dressed?”

He glanced down. “Partially.”

“Well, could you get all the way dressed? I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm,” he said again. “Decided not to just barge in on me this time?” Despite the hint of fatigue in his eyes—had the poor man slept at all last night?—one corner of his mouth lifted.

“I’ve learned this new skill. It’s called knocking.”

“Hmm, pity.” He closed the door in her face.

She grinned and knocked again. “You better be getting dressed in there. I don’t have all day.”

“Yeah, Neil. Get dressed,” Indi’s voice called. “We’re getting curious down here.”

Sydney whirled to see all three of them crowded at the base of the staircase. Oh, lovely. She hadn’t counted on having an audience for this.

Before she could say another word—either a polite request or outright demand for privacy—the door behind her opened again and an arm shot out, tugging her into the bathroom, her shriek colliding with the latch of the door.

Hot, humid air curled around her and she caught a glimpse of the still-steam-blurred mirror before Neil turned her to face him. Flannel shirt and jeans—she wouldn’t have expected anything else. But the shirt was still unbuttoned and the bare feet were a change.

“You had something to say?” He started buttoning his shirt.

She swallowed. “Um, well. I mean, I could’ve waited until you were . . . I didn’t really think . . . in here . . .”

His hands stilled near the top of his shirt. “Why do you have my coat?”

“Oh, um.” Another swallow. A deep breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it for a little longer.”