Sheila’s POV
The bus stop was quiet except for the wind rattling the shelter’s roof. My hands gripped my phone like it could keep me anchored. Every few seconds, I glanced down the street, half expecting him to appear out of nowhere.
My pulse was still racing, my stomach twisting in ways I didn’t want to admit. I hated how much I wanted him to show up, how my body remembered every brush of his skin.
Then my phone buzzed.
Brendan: Don’t make me wait.
I froze, fingers tightening. My heart jumped.
I didn’t want to answer. I shouldn’t.
But I did anyway.
Me: I’m not waiting.
I didn’t send it. My thumb hovered, trembling. I was too aware of every heartbeat, every shiver, every ache that still lingered from earlier.
And then I heard it the soft scrape of shoes against pavement. My ches
