I was just pulling on loose-fitting shorts when there was a firm knock at my door. The clock on my bedside table told me it was nearing eight. Which probably meant it was Zach. I rarely got any other visitors. But I’d expected him to call first and was a little surprised he hadn’t. A quick glance at my phone on the table on the way to the door confirmed that there was no missed call.
My hand on the doorknob, I first peaked through the peephole to make sure it really was Zach. His face was turned, but I couldn’t mistake those eyebrows. I opened the door.
“You got my message?”
He pushed past me and walked in. “Message?”
“I called you.”
Zach shook his head. “Phone’s dead. Forgot to charge it.”
“Then—”