Page 121 of Puck Me Back to Life

“Yeah,” I say. “Funny you mention that, because somehow he suddenly appeared in my apartment yesterday. Any idea how that happened?”

A blush spreads across her cheeks. Angela is not a woman who is easily embarrassed, so the sight is immediately satisfying. She laughs and looks toward the street below. “In my defense, he looked really concerned.”

“He broke into my apartment.”

She scoffs. “I let him in.”

“That doesn't make it better.”

“It's fine.”

“It makes you an accomplice.”

“He helped me with a package first.”

I stare at her.

She lifts one shoulder. “It was a very heavy package.”

“So you traded access to my apartment for manual labor.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds bad. He looked worried!” she says, and the humor softens at the edges. “And honestly, anyone that hot couldn't be a serial killer.”

I smirk despite myself. “Ted Bundy would've gotten your ass.”

Angela points at me with her travel mug. “That is a deeply unfair comparison.”

“It's accurate.”

“It is not.”

“Historically, you would've opened the door.”

“I would've asked questions.”

“No, you would've said, 'Wow, he seems nice,' and then vanished from a true crime documentary halfway through episode two.”

She laughs loudly enough that Cleveland lifts his head and looks offended by the disturbance.

The sound makes something in my chest loosen.

For a few seconds, the morning feels normal. Then Angela's eyes narrow. “How long did Ash stay over?”

Heat immediately climbs up my neck. I take a drink of coffee. A long one. Unfortunately, Angela notices everything.

Her mouth falls open. “He's still here?”

“Shh!”

“Oh my God.”

“Angela.”

“He's still here.”

“Lower your voice.”

She presses both hands over her mouth, but her eyes are practically glowing. “Kai Hayes.”