Brandon's POV
My pulse kicked up the second I saw her coming down the staircase.
Chloe.
The sunlight from the high windows spilled over her, catching in the rich tones of her red hair. It gleamed like copper, framing her face as if the whole scene had been staged just to spotlight her. The peach-brush dress she wore swayed lightly with each step, skimming her knees, the soft fabric catching the faint current of air from above.
I felt my face curl into a smile before I could stop it. There she was, and for a moment, the rest of the world dimmed to a blur. My mind went to war with itself — a hundred thoughts colliding in rapid succession: relief that she was here and okay, guilt that I hadn't been there for her when she needed me most, and something else… something heavier, deeper, that settled in my gut and refused to leave.
"What are you doing here?" she asked when she reached the bottom, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
