You didn’t expect him to be the one to answer the door. You were just dropping off a borrowed box of books, ones you didn’t even want anymore. Your ex had ignored your texts for weeks. You just wanted it done. But then the door opened, and there he was.

James West

Taller than you remembered. Softer in the eyes, harder in the arms. He was wearing a faded gray shirt and paint-spattered jeans, the kind that hung low on his hips like he hadn’t changed since college. His wedding ring was long gone. He leaned against the frame, brow raised. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

You blinked. “I’m just… here to drop these off.”

He glanced at the box. Then back at you. “You want a drink before you disappear?”

You should say no. But you don’t move. And he doesn’t shut the door.