Crossroads in the Dark
Julia’s POV
I didn’t breathe.
Not until the shadow shifted, stepping into the slice of light spilling through the window.
My heart almost broke through my ribs.
“Jesus, Raymond,” I sighed, as if I had been holding my breath for days. My spine uncoiled, and my shoulders sagged as the adrenaline vanished. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He did not flinch. He just stood there, broad–shouldered and frustratingly calm, a cigarette between his fingers, as if he had all the time in the world to be theatrical.
I blinked hard, attempting to get my bearings. “How the hell did you even get in here?”
He leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, his gaze drawn to the faint shimmer of moonlight spilling through the glass.
“Back door,” he replied simply. “Used the key you gave me.”
My stomach sank.
He gave a half–shrug, as if it didn’t mean anything.
“The night we made out, remember? You tossed it at me the morning after. Said it was for emergencies.”
004
10 33 10
Crossroads in the Dark
My mind flew backward.
That night.
Months ago, when I was too drunk to care and too reckless to think twice. He’d carried me out of the club and into my bed, and in the fog of the next morning–head pounding, throat dry—I’d tossed him the spare key without even looking at him.
“For emergencies,” I’d said, trying to sound flippant.
And ever since then, Raymond had taken liberties with it. Quiet ones. He came and went like this place was just another crash pad–one more hiding spot when the noise of his own world got too loud.
And me?
I never asked him to stop.
I never took the key back.
Raymond shrugged loosely, water still clinging to the fringes of his brown leather jacket, leaving small droplets on the hardwood. “Place hasn’t changed much,” he observed, examining the room with a familiar expression. “Still smells like wet regrets and secrets no one ever plans on telling.”
I folded my arms and leveled my gaze. “You just let yourself in?”
“Sure did.” He did not flinch. “I missed your call a few hours ago. Figured you’d be here.”
My brows pulled together. “Call?”
He flicked his cigarette into the tray and met my eyes. “Yeah. Around five. You didn’t say much. Just my name. Then silence.”
10.3303
ads in the Dark
It hit me like cold water.
That brief moment in the backseat of the car, forehead pressed to the window, phone in hand, I had called someone. A familiar name on the screen. I hadn’t even remembered dialing. I was too busy, lost in my thoughts, in front of a driver who couldn’t stop looking at me through the mirror.
I called Raymond.
Subconsciously.
He watched it register on my face, his expression softening. “Didn’t know you were back in town. But something in your voice–hell, even in that one second–made me realize you weren’t okay.” I folded my arms over my chest and leaned on the table, hoping that the wood under my palms would feel firm. “So you just left your place and showed up?”
