The knock after eleven at night startled me. I figured Carson or Ethan left their keys at home, locking themselves out. I didn't bother glancing through the peephole. Instead, I kept my nose rooted in the book I was reading, disengaged the deadbolt, and then grabbed the knob. I didn't take notice of who stood on the other side when I flung it open, and I returned to my place on the couch.
The weight of the metal latching itself in place resounded through the apartment. After sitting down, I realized neither of them had come inside. Irritated by the disruption-and ready to fire off a smart-ass comment about one of them needing an escort or an invitation-I ripped back the door.
And every thought fled my mind.
If I'd been asleep, then I would have believed I was dreaming. As it stood, the
