The cursor blinks back at me like it’s judging my life choices.
I’m working on my assignment for Criminal Procedure and Evidentiary Analysis, my least favorite class and—unfortunately—one of the most essential to my degree. I have to get this right. I know that. But concentrating feels impossible when my thoughts keep circling back to him.
The man from earlier.
I sit at my desk, shoulders hunched, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard. The memory of the way he watched my work won’t leave me alone. Not glanced at—studied. Like he wasn’t just reading words but mapping something underneath them. And his voice…low, steady, saying my name like it wasn’t the first time it had crossed his tongue.
I shake my head.
Get it together, Raelyn.
He’s probably a consultant, like I noticed earlier. One of those polished academic types professors bring in when they want to sound important. That explains the luxurious coat. The confidence. The intensity. I’ve been studying crime too long—paranoia comes with the territory.
That’s all this is.
I close my eyes and take a slow breath, forcing my thoughts back where they belong. Case law. Procedures. Evidence chains. Facts I can control. Things that don’t look at me like they already know my secrets.
When I open my eyes again, I start typing.
A knock sounds at my door about half an hour later.
“Ray, can I come in?” It’s Ellie.
“Of course.”
It opens a second later, and Ellie slips in, carrying a plate of grilled cheese cut into neat triangles and a mug of chamomile tea. Steam curls lazily into the air.
“This,” she says, setting everything down beside my laptop, “is for your brain. Chamomile relaxes the nervous system and improves focus.”
I glance at the food, then up at her. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”
She scoffs and watches me for a beat too long.
Then she narrows her eyes. “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”
“What?” I scoff, way too fast. “No. Of course not.”
Ellie laughs, soft and knowing. “You liar. You so are.”
I groan and drop my head back against the chair. “Ellie. I’m trying not to, okay? Leave me alone. Don’t judge me.”
She just grins and taps the side of my mug. “Drink your tea, drama queen. And eat. You’ll spiral less.”
I glare at her, but I pick up the mug anyway.
Traitor.
I take a sip. Ellie nods with satisfaction, then turns to leave.
At the door, she pauses. “Raelyn, please, when you’re done, can you take out the trash?”
“Yes, I will, Ellie. Don’t worry about it.”
In this house, the only thing I do consistently is take out the trash. And that’s because Ellie is, kind of, a neat freak. She can’t bear to touch it. If she does, she’ll wash her hands with bleach for a week and still look haunted. So, it’s an unspoken rule. I handle it.
It’s literally my one household duty.
I finish my grilled cheese and sip the rest of my tea, and surprisingly, it works. My shoulders loosen. My thoughts slow.An hour passes, and I’m not even thinking about the stranger anymore.