Elena stood frozen.
The shards of the broken mug lay at her feet, sharp and steaming in the morning sun. Her fingers trembled. The wind, once soft and warm, now felt cold against her bare skin. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“Turn around,” the voice said again—calm, amused, with a darkness underneath.
She turned, slowly, her knees stiff, her heart pounding so loud she could barely hear anything else.
And there he was.
Rico,
His Ex boyfriend, leaned casually against the garden archway, his arms crossed over his chest. Dark jeans. Black boots dusted with dirt. A sharp jawline, a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. Eyes that were watching her like a hunter studying prey.
He didn’t belong here.
She didn’t have to ask why he was here. Her body already knew. Fear had a way of rememberin
