Page 129 of Lose You Twice

Good.

The room smells like soap, damp gear, and whatever industrial cleaner Donnelly uses that could probably strip paint.

I spot my phone almost immediately.

Of course it’s on the bench near the tape shelf.

The same tape shelf Kai reached past me earlier, close enough that his chest brushed my shoulder, and I forgot every word I’ve ever learned.

I cross the room, grab the phone, and exhale when the screen lights up. Three texts from Harlow. One from Mom saying she’d be home before bed tonight.

Then I hear the shower.

I freeze.

Water runs somewhere beyond the tiled entrance to the showers and steam curls faintly around the corner.

My brain offers several possibilities.

One: someone left a shower on.

Two: the building is haunted by a very hygienic ghost.

Three: someone is still here.

The third option should have me hightailing it out of here immediately.

Instead, because I’m apparently determined to make terrible choices in life, I call again, “Hello?”

The water keeps running, but no one answers.

Then I hear a sound.

Not loud.

Not even enough to be certain.

A breath, maybe. A rough exhale. Something low and restrained that makes the back of my neck prickle.

My pulse jumps.

“Anyone in here?”

Silence.

Then his voice comes through the steam, rougher than it should be.

“Wren.”

Just my name, that’s all, but the way he says it turns my bones liquid.

“What are you doing in here?” he asks.

“I forgot my phone.”

“Did you get it?”

I look down at the phone in my hand like it might provide moral guidance.