She was always there, lingering on the edge of my mind like a shadow I couldn’t shake. It was infuriating—how easily she slipped past every defense I’d meticulously built over years. She wasn’t even trying, and yet, somehow, she possessed my every waking thought. Every laugh, every glance, every damn word she spoke sank into my skin, a reminder of the emotions I refused to feel. It was wrong—she was Bridget's friend, for God's sake, and I had no business looking at her like she was the answer to a question I didn’t dare ask. But I couldn’t help it. Nothing about her should’ve meant anything. But it did. And that scared me more than any warzone I’d ever stepped foot in.

Like her standing at Bridget's door.

"What are you doing here?" My voice came out harsh. Cold. She never flinched away. But God, I needed her to. To run far, far away.