The street was silent except for the soft hum of the machine of the taxi that occasionally groaned. New York may never sleep, but this street at night, was always quiet. But Selena's knock, though gentle, broke it like glass.
Three light taps, then another, softer, like hesitation.
Sam sat up in bed immediately.
He didn't bother with slippers or even turning on the lamp. He moved down the hallway in nothing but his T-shirt and boxers, every step careful not to wake Jennette in their bedroom.
When he opened the door, the soft porch light flickered above them, casting a pale, washed-out glow on the woman standing in front of him.
Selena.
Her shoulders were drawn up to her ears. She looked smaller somehow. Her eyes were tired, hazy, and distant. She hadn't been crying. She was just… tired. Her skin carried the faint chill of the night, her hair messy around her cheeks, sticking in places like she'd leaned against a car window or fallen asleep on the ride.
