Page 86 of Swept Away

The weather is nice, and the breeze makes my late-night walk worthwhile.

There’s not a soul in sight as I round the corner. No pedestrians walking, and no cars moving.

The house across the street is shrouded in darkness, and I quickly recall the conversation I had with that woman.

I forgot to mention to the people at the party that this house is on the market.

Making a mental note to talk to Charlize about this place, I inch closer to my place.

My gaze moves randomly over the parked cars when something catches my eye.

It’s a black sports car, and as soon as my heart starts to rush, I fully know it’s Mason’s car.

Honestly, it hasn’t even crossed my mind that he might be back. Although someone else could drive his car.

Why not?

I slow down, my eyes moving back and forth, checking every car, shadow, tree. Any clue.

His car is parked in front of my house, which is unusual in itself. You can almost never find a spot in front of my windows.

I creep closer and check his car. It is his car.

For a moment there, I thought it might be a coincidence, although I hardly believe in that.

There’s no one inside.

The windows are rolled up.

And as I move past the car, I brush my fingers over the hood. It’s cold.

Whoever parked it here must’ve done it sometime ago.

Once I get to my building, I ponder what to do.

Should I walk to the next block and check the street over there? I don’t think there’s anything open at this hour. The stores and coffee shops are closed.

There’s a diner, but I doubt he is there, eating.

This is strange. Carter’s place is not far from here. But I can’t imagine he left his car here and went there.

Anyway, I'll go inside and maybe call him?

I spin around, head up the stairs, and walk to my apartment. The doormat looks slightly crooked, but not enough to bother me.

I slide it back in its place and shift the key in the lock.

The door slides to the side, and the familiar look of my place fills my view.

Everything looks how I left it.

Gizmo is not in his bed, but he could be in the kitchen.

I step in, close the door, and drop my backpack and the box on the wall table by the door when the lights go out, and I turn to stone.

My hackles rise as I snap my eyes to the street.

The streetlights are on.