Sheila’s POV
The wind hits my face as soon as I step outside. It’s cold and sharp, cutting through my jacket like it’s nothing. The street is half-empty, lights from passing cars flashing over puddles that haven’t dried from the afternoon rain. I hear footsteps behind me before I even turn, and I already know it’s him.
I keep walking. I tell myself not to look back. But the sound of his steps slow, even, steady pulls at me like a string around my chest.
When I finally turn, he’s there. Brendan. Standing under the weak glow of a streetlamp like he’s been waiting for me to turn around all along.
“Say what you have to say,” I tell him. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
He studies me for a long second. His face is calm, but his jaw tightens. “You shouldn’t walk off like that.”
“I nee
