Skylar.

“It's me.”

“I know.” I wrapped a towel around myself. “Come in.”

Conrad stepped inside and shut the door.

He'd washed too, but not well. There was still dried blood along his ribs, a long raw scratch that he hadn't bothered to bandage, and his hair was damp and tousled. He didn't speak. He only stood there with his back against the door, looking at me like a man who'd walked a long way in the dark.

“I lost him,” he said finally.

“You didn't.”

“I should have ...