I glanced at the door, considering the lock. Too late now.
When he finally emerged, I froze. The man standing before me was not the scruffy figure I’d found by the dumpster. His face was clean, his hair damp but combed back, revealing sharp cheekbones and striking features. He looked familiar.
The contents of the pot sizzled as I slowly approached him. I could see his face clearly and was certain I knew this man. I frowned as I tried to place him, and it hit me.
“This is impossible,” I whispered, my stomach twisting. “You… I know you. It’s been years, but…”
His gaze met mine, steady and unflinching.
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