Knox is already halfway up the stairs by the time I make it inside the building. He takes the stairs two at a time. I follow fast.
At the next landing, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolls quickly, then presses it to his ear.
He doesn’t say much. Just a few clipped words. Something about a tow truck. The name Aaron.
I don’t need to hear the rest to know what it’s about.
He hangs up just as I reach our floor and stands outside my door, shoulders rising and falling fast, like the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet.
When I come up beside him, I notice his knuckles. Red and raw. Blood gathers in the creases. It makes my stomach turn.
“You got your key?” he asks.
“I left it inside.”
“You should always carry it. Or you’ll lock yourself out.”
He reaches into his back pocket, pulls o
