Page 101 of Lock Every Door

35

My phone buzzes again, the sound muted by the carpet.

I stay where I am. I don’t need to see this new text to know the truth. I have my memory.

Me sitting in Nick’s kitchen, my wounded arm freshly clean, him making small talk, asking me if Jules was a nickname.

Most people think it’s short for Julia or Julianne, but Jules is my given name.

Other than Chloe and Andrew, he’s the only person in recent memory who’s been told the story behind my name. How stupid I was, basking in Nick’s attention, enjoying that zap of attraction when he looked into my eyes.

The phone buzzes again.

This time I move, approaching it with caution. Like it’s something that can sting. Rather than pick it up, I flip the phone onto its back and read the texts I’ve missed.

Jules?

You still there?

I’m still staring at the words when there’s a knock on the door. A single, startling rap that makes me look up from the phone and gasp.

A second knock arrives. As nerve-jangling as the first.

Nick’s voice follows. “Jules? Are you home?”

It’s him.

Just on the other side of the door.

Almost as if he’s been summoned by my suspicion.

I don’t answer the door.

I can’t.

Nor can I say anything. A single tremulous word from me will tip him off that I know. About everything.

I turn and face the door, noting the way it’s framed by the sitting room archway. A door within a door.

Then I see the chain dangling from the doorframe.

Just below it is the deadbolt, also in an unlocked position.

In the center of the doorknob itself, the latch lies flat.

The door is completely unlocked.

I leap to my feet and rush toward the foyer, trying to make as little noise as possible. If I don’t answer, maybe Nick will go away.

Instead, he knocks again. I’m in the foyer now, inching closer to the door. The sound—so loud, so close—prompts a startled huff.

I press my back against the door, hoping Nick can’t sense my presence. I can certainly feel his. A disturbance of air mere inches away.

Nick could charge right in if he wanted to. One twist of the doorknob is all it would take.

Luckily, he only talks.

“Jules,” he says. “If you’re there and can hear me, I just want to apologize for this morning. I shouldn’t have brushed off your concern about not being in your apartment all night. It was cavalier of me.”

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