The key turned in the lock with a familiar click, and Lana stepped into her home as if she were entering a crime scene.
Everything was exactly as she'd left it—the dress still pooled on the bedroom floor, the bathroom mirror still streaked with the evidence of her breakdown, the bed still rumpled from where Thomas had sat. She could feel his presence in the space, the ghost of his anger lingering in the air like smoke. He'd been here. He'd searched. He'd probably thrown things, if she knew him at all.
But now it was her space again. Her sanctuary. Her home.
Lana kicked off her shoes and walked through the apartment, cataloging the small changes Thomas had left behind. A glass on the counter that wasn't hers. A cushion slightly askew on the couch. The faint scent of his cologne in the be
