You saw something out of context.
Still nothing.
By the time he called again, angst had settled in—not at her, but at the silence.
“Randi,” he said, more firmly now, “you don’t get to walk away from this without letting me explain.”
He ended the call, staring at the screen before setting it down.
Why does this matter this much?
The answer came without hesitation.
Because it’s her.
Across town, Randi sat curled into the corner of her couch, her phone face down on the table.
It had lit up more times than she wanted to acknowledge.
She hadn’t touched it.
Didn’t need to.
Her thoughts had been relentless since she left the hospital, circling back to the same conclusion.
You’re a fool. You knew better. All men are the same.
No.She chastised her inner voice. voice.That’s not true.
Her mind paused.
Then why does it feel like it is?
She pressed her eyes shut, the
argument in her mind refusing to quiet.
Why am I doubting him?
Because I’ve been wrong before.
Because I don’t trust what I see. Because I don’t trust myself.
Her hand curled slightly, the ache grounding her.
Her gaze shifted toward the phone.
Silent now.
But heavy.
By late afternoon, Brew found himself standing outside her house.
He hadn’t planned it.
He had simply driven by, gone around the block, and stopped. Looked.
Her car sat in the driveway beside a detached garage tucked behind the house.
