Mick stood on a sidewalk that had seen better days, the constant L.A. traffic streaming past, the noise a steady thrum in his ears. He could taste the slight tang of fear on his tongue, and smog and car exhaust. And an overwhelming sense of relief as well. He stood with his heart and his arms full of a woman he knew nothing about. And yet in a fundamental instinctual way, he felt that he did. Rachel was no longer sobbing. Thank God. The intensity of the storm seemed to have passed. Slight tremors shuddered through her slender frame, accompanied by little hiccuping gasps of breath. A skinny teenager on a skateboard with a mop of long hair whizzed toward them on the sidewalk. “Hey, guys,” the kid called as he breezed past. “Get a room.” The skateboarder crouched low, jumped the curb, leaned his body to the left, rounded the corner, and disappeared from view.

Rachel straightened, wiped her eyes with her hands, and then took half a step back. His arms fell away from her body, missing her already as she dug into her purse and pulled out a tissue. “I’m so sorry. I was totally out of line, never should have struck you. I just . . .” She blew her nose. “I freaked out. Everything got jumbled, mixed up in my head, and you weren’t Mick anymore. You became someone else . . .” Rachel exhaled, her breath still shaky.

“Rachel, you know we can’t go on like this?” He kept his voice gentle. Didn’t want to spook her. “Who are you?” She froze for a heartbeat. “What are you running from?” Avoiding his gaze, she slowly, carefully placed the tissue in her purse. Took a long time closing it. He waited patiently, wasn’t sure if she would answer. “I can’t help if I don’t know what the problem is. And, obviously, I need more information to make an informed decision whether it’s safe to let you reside at my house.” She stumbled another half step back, torso compressing inward, as if she had taken a body blow. Made him feel like a brute. “I will pay you for the time you’ve worked. I’m also prepared to put you and Charlie up in a short-term rental for two weeks to give you time to find a new job and accommodations.”

Her eyes lifted from her purse to study his face. “Why would you offer to do that? I’m practically a stranger. You owe me nothing. Less than nothing.” Rachel stilled, her breath seemed to catch, and then there was a flicker of something that looked like sorrow or self-loathing. “God.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I’m . . . I’m sorry about your face, for”—she exhaled—“for flipping out like that.”