The apartment door creaked open with a sound Jack didn't remember it making.
Rain tapped against the windows, slow and steady.
He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. The place smelled like oranges and old perfume.
A woman's laugh echoed down the hallway.
Not Lana's.
His brows furrowed. “Lana?"
Silence.
He stepped forward.
Stilettos near the couch. Lana's favorite red pair.
He took another step.
Kyle's leather jacket on the armrest.
His best friend's voice—muffled, then audible.
“Wait—did you hear something?"
Jack's stomach dropped.
He opened the bedroom door.
Lana froze. Sheets pulled hastily to her chest. Kyle sat beside her, half-dressed, mouth hanging open.
Jack stared.
No words came.
Lana was the first to move. “Jack—oh my God—I thought—"
“You thought I was dead
