Thinking she’d sleep better with a drink, Sara grabbed a sweater and headed into the hallway. The sound of rain continued, the faint flash of lightning that lit up the bridge illuminating the halls sporadically. Sara made it to the kitchen, poured herself a large glass of scotch, grabbed the whole bottle just in case, then turned off the light and faced the door.
A figure, so silent she hadn’t even noticed anyone was there, stood in the entryway. She tensed, nearly dropping the glass and bottle, but lightning struck again, briefly lighting up the face, and she froze.
Crystal blue eyes, dark brow drawn in confusion and irritation, a usual smirking face twisted into a frown. The short dark and gray hair and black jacket were painfully familiar to her. His eyes met hers and her breath stopped.
“Len?” she whispered, the word nearly lost in the rain.
His frown deepened and he opened his mouth, taking a step towards her.