Was he leaving?
Had he already packed?
Had someone interrupted him?
Then the front door slammed downstairs.
I heard footsteps.
They stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
I froze beside Thomas’ bed.
For one awful second, I thought about the unlocked front door and the red circle around my face.
Then someone called my name.
“Cassie?”
I knew the voice.
I hurried into the hallway.
“Thomas?”
He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard.
He looked shocked to see me.
Then his expression changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I gripped the railing. “You disappeared.”
Thomas glanced toward the front door.
“I didn’t disappear.”
“Your phone is off. You weren’t answering. And there is a suitcase beside your bed.”
He closed his eyes.
I went downstairs slowly.
“What is going on?”
Thomas looked older than he had the night before.
Not physically.
Something in him had collapsed.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
I stared at him.
“That’s what you have to say?”
“Cassie, please.”
“No.”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
“I drove more than 1,000 miles to see you. You raised a glass and said, ‘To second chances.’ Then you vanished the next morning.”
