Other than my black combat-style boots, which were by the elevator door, there were no personal belongings scattered about. Unless I counted the punching bag hanging in the corner and the blue mats tucked against the wall as personal belongings. I didn’t.

A soft cream-colored blanket was folded neatly, draped over the gray couch, picture ready. Not even a stray glass had been left on the kitchen counter, or a dish in the sink. The only room that remotely appeared as if someone lived here was the bedroom, and that was because my suitcases had thrown up my clothes all over the place.

Maybe it was the industrial design that added to the coldness. The cement floors and large metal fans that churned quietly from the exposed metal beams didn’t add any warmth to the open and airy space. Neither did the floor-to-ceiling windows, which had to be tinted, because the sunlight seeping through them didn’t make me want to poke my eyeballs out.

I would go stir-crazy if I was the only person who lived here.

That was what I was thinking about—real important stuff—when I felt the sudden burst of warmth in my chest.

“What in the world?” I whispered to the empty space. The warmth flared.

Was I having a heart attack? Okay. That was stupid for a multitude of reasons. I rubbed my chest. Maybe it was indigestion or the beginnings of an ulce—

Wait.

I lowered the glass. What I felt was an echo of my own heart, and I suddenly knew what it was. Holy granola bar, it was the bond—it was Zayne, and he was close.

I now had Zayne radar, and that was a little—or a lot—super freaking weird.

I started to bite on my thumbnail, but picked up my OJ instead, finishing it off with two loud, obnoxious gulps. My heart rate kicked up at the ding of the elevator arriving, and my gaze swung toward the steel elevator doors as I filled with nervous energy. I put the glass down before I dropped it. Every time I saw Zayne, it was like seeing him for the first time all over again, but it wasn’t just that.

I’d cried all over Zayne last night—like, all over him.

Heat crept up the back of my neck. I wasn’t a crier, and until the night before, I’d been starting to believe that I had faulty tear ducts. Unfortunately those tear ducts were fully functioning. There’d been a lot of ugly, snotty sobs.

The door slid open, and the anxious energy exploded in my stomach as Zayne walked in.

Damn.