Chapter 5
Finn
Finn,
Please, I urge you to take this seriously.
Iron deficiency in men can hint at more severe medical issues going on, such as gastritis, ulcers, or even cancer.
You need to get your iron levels up and find the cause of the deficiency. See your primary care doctor ASAP!
I took the liberty of ordering groceries for you—foods that are rich in iron.
Take your health seriously!
I stared at the note in disbelief, my stomach cramping as I read it for the third time.
What the fuck?
Like, seriously. What the fuck was this guy—or, well, for all I knew it could be a girl too, though I had the feeling it was a guy—trying to achieve?
Freak me the fuck out?
Yes, great, he’d done that.
Cancer? Was he trying to gaslight me into believing I had cancer?
I mean, sure, my stomach fucking hurt, but I was stressed.
I always got a stomachache when I was stressed.
And yeah, it didn’t take a doctor to tell me that all the coffee and energy drinks I’d drunk hadn’t done anything to soothe my stomach, but…
this was nothing a couple of days of rest wouldn’t fix.
I did not have cancer.
I did not have ulcers or tumors or whatever this guy—or girl—was trying to convince me I had.
I had a stress-induced upset stomach.
And the whole iron deficiency thing? Yeah, those symptoms were par for the course with sleep deprivation.
Now that I’d handed in my thesis, I could take a couple of weeks off—at least, if my boss at the coffee shop let me. Which I wasn’t certain he would. But that was future Finn’s problem. Right now, my bed was calling me.
Shredding the Post-it felt like it wasn’t enough, but I couldn’t very well just light it on fire in the hallway, could I?
Maybe I should keep it the way it was, just in case this fucking psycho escalated and I needed to call the police.
Yeah… I really didn’t want to do that, though. I could just imagine the way they’d look at me upon telling them someone was leaving notes for me, telling me to see my doctor for an iron deficiency that no one could know I had.
I mean… someone would’ve needed to draw my blood for that. And the last time I’d had a blood panel done was three years ago. And back then, my iron levels had been fine. Probably. Otherwise, surely my doctor would’ve told me.
I sighed as I stuffed the little pieces of the note into my pocket and opened my apartment door.
Maybe I’d gather more clarity on what to do about this creepy weirdo with a medical fetish once I’d had a good night’s sleep.
Someone was at the front door, ringing my doorbell like there was no tomorrow.
I groaned and rubbed my eyes before reaching for my phone.
Five thirty p.m.
I’d slept for three hours—and I wasn’t fucking done.
But whoever was at my door apparently hadn’t gotten the memo.
I got up, and the whole floor shifted beneath my feet, the walls spinning in circles. I stumbled, hitting something with my foot. Wetness seeped into my sock, then I finally found the back of my couch and held on to it for dear life until the world finally stopped taking me for a carousel ride.
Holy fuck, I did not like this dizziness one bit.
The doorbell buzzed again, and I groaned, then quickly crossed the rest of my apartment.
“What?” I barked into the intercom, then cringed. Whoever was at my door didn’t deserve my wrath. The creepy medical fetishist did.
“Grocery delivery for Finn Carpenter, apartment five E,” a male voice said.
I hadn’t ordered any groceries, had I?
Could one order groceries in a state of sleep deprivation and forget all about it?
Wait… the note.
Damn, I really shouldn’t have ripped it up.
The note had said something about groceries, right?
“Helloooo?”
Oh, right, the guy was still there.
“Uhm, yeah, come up, I guess,” I said, buzzing him in.
It wasn’t his fault that some random weirdo had hired him.
Wait… what if this guy was the weirdo?
What if he was trying to get access to my apartment like this? Pretending to be a delivery guy to get into my apartment and… what? Draw my blood to do a blood panel himself? Play doctor with me?
That was ridiculous.
Then again, this whole thing was kind of ridiculous.
Maybe I should just close the door, talk to the guy through the safety of two layers of plywood and a bit of carton—my landlord definitely hadn’t splurged on a massive wooden door for this dingy apartment—and make him leave the groceries on my welcome mat.
I heard the low whirring of the old elevator, and my heart skipped a beat. Whatever I decided, I needed to decide fast.
Did I risk ending up as an unwilling participant in some kind of medical kink?
Or did I risk looking like a complete idiot who was too afraid to face a fucking delivery guy?
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open with a slight rattle.
A second later, a young guy stepped out, carrying two bags in his hand. Damn, the bags looked full, and there was a lot of fresh produce peeking out of the top. My stomach rumbled, but it was laced with pain. Lately, everything I ate hurt.
“Hi,” the guy said, grinning at me from under a cap branded with a local grocery chain. He’d donned a matching T-shirt, and as he got closer, I could read the name tag with Liam on it. “Finn Carpenter?”
“Err… yes,” I said, blinking.
This looked legit.
Had my health stalker really ordered groceries for me?
“This might sound weird, but do you have an order form or anything for me?”
If he were a fraud, he’d drop the bags to jump me any second now, but… nothing happened. Liam gave me an easy smile and extended his hand for me to grab the bags.
“Not a weird request at all. I sure do; it’s in my back pocket. In theory, we’re supposed to use clipboards, but no one was able to answer my question of how I’m supposed to carry up to six bags of groceries and a clipboard at once. So, back pocket it is. I’ll also need you to sign the form.”
Accepting the bags was a risk, but one I had to take.
While Liam pulled a folded piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, I quickly stashed the bags behind the door, half expecting Liam to jump me now. But he didn’t even try to get closer to the door, just patiently waited for me to grab the form.
“There’s a copy for you, too.”
I unfolded the paper and gave it a quick once-over. It looked legit. At least as far as I could tell. Maybe this really was a legit grocery delivery.
Then again, how hard would it be to fake a delivery form? It’s not like whoever they were was trying to print counterfeit money.
Still, just in case this was real, I scribbled my name on the bottom of the first page and handed it back to Liam, who folded it and put it back in his pocket.
“Neat. That’s it. You already paid for your order online, and thank you for adding a generous tip.” He waved at me and turned around.
And just like that, I was alone again with two bags of groceries that might or might not be poisoned.