"I know how you feel," Wynn said. "I lost patients before, people who shouldn't have died. On paper, they had a ninety percent chance of surviving the operation. I performed exactly as I should have, and yet, they died. The unforeseen, Deidre. You could not have predicted Logan would die any more than I did one of those patients."
"I feel so guilty."
"So do I. For me, it's a professional hazard. For you, a freak event. Life is known for those."
"My god, Wynn," she said, studying him. "I know we talked before, but why didn't we talk like this?"
He chuckled. "Because now, we are friends. Before, we had a professional relationship. I like you, Deidre. I always have."
If she didn't know better, she would've read more into his words. He spoke like Mr. Checkmate, the Immortal that greeted her on the beach and spoke of a history with her when she'd never seen him before. She had a history with Wynn, and he was right. They'd transitioned from doctor-patient to friends this evening.
"You must be exhausted after your weekend," he said. "Go rest."
She straightened but hesitated. "Wynn, I don't want to put you in danger. If anything weird happens, please walk or run away or call the police or something."
"I don't fear Death or these Immortals of yours," he said. "I've faced enough in my time to take care of myself."
He sounds like an Immortal. She shook her head.
"I really am tired," she said, standing. "Thank you so much for taking me in and not throwing me out after what I told you. I'll see you in the morning." She squeezed his shoulder and padded into the house.
"Sleep well, Deidre," he called after her.
As she walked up the stairs, she realized that Wynn read her the same way Gabriel had the night they met. Wynn always spoke differently, she reminded herself. His perspective was unique, unlike that of anyone else she'd ever met. His ready acceptance of her weekend, however, left her concerned. He wasn't curious about the existence of an Immortal society, only about what she intended to do, now that she knew it existed.
He wasn't surprised, because he already knew.
Deidre closed the door to her room and leaned against it, struggling to make sense of everything. She tried hard to convince herself that she was misreading Wynn. Reviewing their day together, she couldn't find any instance where he'd directly tipped her off. But he was a politician. He buried his meaning in vagueness and niceties.
He'd called Gabriel noble. The Immortals earlier in the day said the same. Deidre didn't know what to think about Gabriel, not when he seemed conflicted about her to start off with. Making love to her, wanting her dead, saving her life, walking away.