Silence. For one second. Two.
Then Ethan laughed. Not because it was funny, because it was impossible. The sound echoed beneath the patio roof.
Maya didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. She simply waited.
Ethan shook his head. "Kid, you have absolutely no idea who you're talking to."
"I know exactly who I'm talking to."
"Really?"
"You're Ethan Caldwell."
He smirked. "Most people know that."
"You're lonely."
The smile disappeared from his face.
Maya continued, "You stopped believing people when they tell you things can get better."
Ethan felt an unexpected irritation rise inside him. "Who told you that?"
"My grandma."
That answer only confused him more. "Your grandmother knows me?"
Maya looked down at the bucket. "Not exactly."
The rain intensified. Thunder rumbled somewhere far away. Ethan studied the little girl. She didn't look dangerous. She didn't look manipulative. She looked like a child—a very poor child. Yet somehow she stood before him with the confidence of someone carrying a secret.
"Maya," Ethan said carefully, "how did you even get in here?"
"I climbed the fence."
"Why?"
"Because I needed to see you."
Security still hadn't arrived. That annoyed Ethan. Yet he hadn't pressed the emergency button, either. Something kept him listening—something he couldn't explain.
Maya slowly reached into the bucket. "You don't believe me."
"No," Ethan admitted.
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"