Chapter 12
Finn
I’d aced that fucking interview.
I’d fucking aced it.
I mean sure, the principal needed the school board’s approval before officially offering me the job, but she’d told me it was a mere formality.
Here was hoping she was right. Getting that job would be amazing, not just because I’d really liked the school and the principal, but having such a big part of my stress and worries taken away like that would probably help a lot with getting my stomach back on track.
My stomach rumbled in agreement, mad I was only filling it with the blandest of foods. And to be honest, I didn’t know how long I could go on with it. I was starting to actually get nauseous upon seeing the food that was supposed to help me with my nausea and pain.
But one could eat only steamed vegetables for so many days in a row until they started to come out of one’s ears. I had maybe another week in me before I couldn’t handle steamed veggies anymore.
Shaking my head, I took a sip of the Inner Peace tea I’d rewarded myself with after finishing the interview.
Yeah, heading to the very café my stalker had also been to probably wasn’t the wisest idea, but I needed answers.
And okay, yeah, I’d also needed the fucking tea.
It was delicious and warm. Sue me.
I kinda hated Eric a little for getting it for me. I’d never have known how good it was if it weren’t for him. Ignoring my stalker’s gift had been easier when I hadn’t known I actually liked it.
Yeah, the stomach-bug tea was good, but it was still a stomach-bug tea. One couldn’t miraculously make fennel and mint and whatever taste amazing. However, the Inner Peace one had more liberties, and Belinda was a bloody genius for the blend of spices.
I’d told her as much, being truthful while also trying to butter her up to tell me who she’d sold that gift basket to. To no avail. Apparently, client confidentiality wasn’t reserved for lawyers or medical staff, but fucking café owners too.
I took another sip, then wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck. It was freezing outside. A beautiful day with a clear, pale blue sky, yes, but the coldest day of the year yet.
Still, I took a turn to the right and followed the street until I got to the park I used to go jogging in.
I’d quit a couple of months ago due to stress, but I liked being here, nonetheless.
I liked the big old trees with wide crowns that afforded a lot of shade in the summer, liked the playground for the younger kids nestled at the edge of a small forest—well, it really was more like a very big group of trees, but one could actually pretend it was a real full-sized forest as it swallowed most of the sound of the city—and I loved the beach volleyball field that currently sat empty.
I followed the small path running through the park until I found a nice bench to sit on. I looked up, right into the canopy of the closest tree, the leaves a colorful mix of reds, yellows, and oranges, and let out a long breath.
Today marked the first day I felt like my energy was coming back. After weeks and weeks of feeling drained and constantly tired, I felt charged. Not conquering-the-world energized, but well enough for a walk.
Because I definitely had some thinking to do.
I could finally allow those thoughts that had been constantly on the edge of my mind, threatening to distract me from what was important at that moment—the interview—to come forward.
They all had one thing in common: they involved Eric. And the stalker. And some of them were trying to convince me that I didn’t need to distinguish because they were the very same person.
But that was ridiculous!
Eric was funny and sweet, and yeah, he had a bit of medical knowledge, but that didn’t mean he’d secretly stolen my blood to fucking analyze it.
Right?
I mean… why would he do that? And why play creepy stalker, leaving me all kinds of weird notes instead of, you know, getting to know me and talking to me?
And sure, he’d shown me a café, and the stalker had gotten me tea from the very same place, but… if they were the same person, he’d have been smarter than that for sure.
Wait… wait…
Did my stalker know about Eric?
Did he want to force a wedge between us?
We’d only met two times—well, and the time at the club I couldn’t remember, and the trip to the ER, which I didn’t count. But I liked him. Talking to him was easy in a way I usually only achieved after getting to know someone for months.
But if my stalker had followed me… he could’ve seen us at the café. He could’ve seen me laughing at whatever Eric had said, and maybe he hadn’t liked that.
So now he was trying to make me believe Eric was my stalker, so I’d stop trusting him and… what? Be more vulnerable to my stalker’s advances?
My stomach cramped, and I instinctively reached for my tea.
Pressure built behind my eyes, my temples giving a throb.
Why was this so fucking complicated?
I just wanted to be.
I shouldn’t have to worry about stalkers with medical fetishes who wanted to draw my blood.
But that was what my life was turning into.
Dread filled me as I stepped out of the elevator.
There was another note waiting for me on my door, the white paper laughing in my face.
I balled my hands into fists as I marched down the hall and ripped that fucking thing off my door.
Part of me wanted to throw it out immediately.
But I needed to know what it said, so I unfolded it and started reading.
Finn,
I’m sorry if I scared you, that was never my intention. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I just want to see you getting better.
The good news is your iron levels are improving. Keep up the good work!
How?
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
How the fuck did he know anything about my iron levels?
I looked to the left, then to the right, but the hallway was blissfully empty, just like it usually was, so I quickly entered my apartment and threw the note on my kitchenette counter.
Were there any hidden cameras?
How did he get to me?
Did he actually test my blood, or was he playing tricks on me?
My hands were cold and shaking as I made quick work of undressing. If he’d drawn my blood, there had to be a needle mark somewhere. And I’d sure as fuck find it.
Not wanting to scare me, my ass. Each fucking note got progressively creepier.