The third phone call ended.
Yvonne Finley didn't continue to call. She put away her phone, bought breakfast, and headed straight for his community. She explained to the security guard which building, floor, and unit number she was going to and who she was visiting, so he let her go.
Eight-thirty in the morning.
In the dark bedroom, a long figure was sprawled on the bed with a phone at hand, ready to disconnect any calls instantly.
Ding-Dong–
The doorbell rang.
She ignored the first ring.
However, the second, the third, and God knows how many times it rang after.
The man impatiently crawled out of bed, haphazardly put on lounge pants, and trudged to the door in his slippers. His intimidating aura was palpable as he opened the door. He looked somewhat frightening, but his handsome face seemed to soften the harshness.
Eyes met.
One cold, one warm.
