Page 59

"Okay…"

Her head drops forward, brows inching higher like any more explanation might exhaust her. I smother the enjoyment that for whatever reason this brings me, waiting for her to continue anyway.

"You weren't here, but there wasn't a doorman either," she explains.

Then why didn't you just leave?

"It's past eight," I say like that should mean something to her. I tip my head back, gesturing behind me. "There's only one out front now. These doors are locked from the outside unless you have a swipe."

She presses her lips together and nods slowly, her cheeks the faintest pink. And as if that's a switch, my mood shifts again.

"You would have known that if you had actually tried to open them."

She blinks at me. Once. Twice. Then lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh.

"Yeah," she breathes. "I guess I would have."

Her fingers tighten around the grocery bag, and for a second I think she might finally hand it over. Instead, she glances toward the doors behind me. The doors that lead to where I live.

But why?

I follow her gaze over my shoulder.

"You just got back?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, still wondering. I slowly twist back to her. "Game ran late."

She nods, her eyes narrow, her mouth almost in a grin. At first, I don't get that either.

Why is she smiling?

Then, it hits me.

It's not funny. It's literally… unbelievable. It's the same reason she popped into my mind at the game.

I roll my tongue over my teeth, realizing what she already has—

The universe put us together again.

Neither of us says anything after that. The quiet stretches, thick and familiar, like an old song neither of us wants to admit we still remember the words to.

It's weird standing across from someone you've known, talked to… been with, and not knowing what to say. Especially when there's so much to be said. Too much, maybe. Enough to fill the silence ten times over if either of us were brave enough to start.

Alexei Petrov, another athlete from my building, walks toward us and nods.

"What's up, man," I say, stepping aside to let him pass.

He waves his card in front of the key pad, then looks back at us before heading inside.

Lenny offers him a smile with the same politeness she's had with me, and it unlocks something deep inside.

Seeing Lenny again after all this time was a shock—one I wasn't sure was going to reignite something in me or burn me from the inside out.

I stopped picturing what I would do if it happened years ago. Stopped chasing the closure I was once searching for and just let the silence do the talking. But now that she's here—in my park, in the hospital, in my head.

At my damn doorstep.

Maybe that silence isn't enough.