“You’re late.”

I wasn’t. I was three minutes early. But Dr. Elias Thorne looked up from his desk like I’d committed a personal offense by existing in his doorway at 5:02 instead of 5:00 on the dot. The office smelled the same as Thursday — coffee, old paper, and the faint trace of whatever cologne he wore that made my mouth water. The hallway behind me was already emptying. Office hours were almost over.

I stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it without being asked. The click sounded louder than it should have.

“I’m early,” I said.

“You’re wearing a coat.” His eyes dropped to the belted trench I’d...