Page 101 of Red Zone
I creep toward the door, my socks whispering against the hardwood, every muscle tense.
Nobody texted. Nobody called.
Whoever it is…they just showed up.
There’s a beat of silence, and then?—
“Lyla.”
The voice is low, muffled through the door. Familiar in a way that somehow makes my chest ache and my stomach twist all at once.
I blink, my hand freezing on the edge of the doorframe.
“Lyla, open up. It’s me.”
Carter.
Of course it is.
I swallow hard, leaning my forehead against the wood for half a second while I try to steady myself.
Why is he here? Why can’t he just…leave me alone tonight?
And yet—my fingers are already flipping the deadbolt before I’ve even finished asking myself the question.
I pull the door open.
And there he is.
Hood up, hair still a little damp from sweat like he didn’t bother showering. One hand is shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, the other gripping several plastic grocery bags.
His eyes scan over me quickly—messy hair, blanket around my shoulders, probably pale as hell.
And then his mouth curves, just faintly.
“Hey,” he says softly.
I grip the edge of the door a little tighter. “What are you doing here?”
He lifts the bags slightly, like that explains everything. “We had plans.”
I blink at him, my throat thickening.
“You came all the way here…didn’t you get my text?”
“I came because of it,” he says, his voice quiet but steady.
I can’t think of a single thing to say to that.
So, I just stand there in the doorway, staring at him, with my chest rising and falling too fast.
Until he finally cocks his head toward the inside of the apartment and says, “You gonna let me in? Or am I standing out here all night?”
I step aside, tugging the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
He ducks his head as he steps in, brushing past me, and just like that, my apartment feels smaller somehow. Warmer.
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything—just makes his way to the kitchen, setting the grocery bags down like he’s done it a hundred times before.
