Dax stood outside her apartment, fist clenched, jaw tight. It was nearly midnight, and he’d been standing there for half an hour, deciding whether to knock.
She hadn’t shown up at work.
Hadn’t answered his calls.
Hadn’t texted.
Not once.
And it was killing him.
He wasn’t the type to chase. He never had been. But with Rhea, everything was different. Everything was wrong, and yet she felt like the only right thing he’d touched in years.
So he knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder.
Finally, the door opened, and there she was.
Hair messy. Eyes swollen. Wearing nothing but an old t-shirt that looked like it had been washed a hundred times. No makeup. No armor.
Just her.
Raw and quiet.
She didn’t speak. Just stared.
He stepped in without waiting to be invited and shut the d
