Forty-One
FORTY-ONE
Mia
NAT BLINKED, SHAKING himself free of his momentary paralysis. “There may not be a problem. It’s just that everything is getting forwarded to the post office box at the moment. Someone started stealing our mail last week. I assume it’s just kids playing a prank or something, but—”
He shrugged helplessly, and I tried not to panic. The heat blockers weren’t shipping via the Post Office. My seller had switched to private shipping since the last time I’d used her—probably hoping it would mean looser security checks for controlled substances and contraband. That meant the package wouldn’t end up at the P.O. box.
“This is FedEx,” I said. “They require a street address for delivery. Are you sure someone was stealing the mail? Is it possible we just didn’t get anything for a couple of days?”
Even as I said it, I knew it was unlikely. The paperless revolution hadn’t yet arrived for restaurant owners. Not completely, anyway.
Nat’s expression hardened. “They weren’t exactly subtle about it. All the envelopes were torn open and dumped in the front yard. It happened last Thursday, Friday, and Saturday while I was here at the restaurant. It was just pure luck that there wasn’t anything too important or sensitive taken. I’m sorry—I should have told you. I was hoping it was just an isolated thing.”
“Why would someone do that?” I asked, as though Nat would have any more idea than I did. “Isn’t tampering with the mail kind of a big deal?”
“It’s a federal offense... if they get caught,” Nat said tiredly. “Which is the challenging part. Anyway, I went and filled out a form on Saturday morning to get everything sent to the post office box for now. They still got to Saturday’s mail, but everything’s safe starting yesterday. I put up a security camera Sunday morning to try and catch them if they come back.”
An itchy sensation of worry had taken up residence beneath my skin. The restaurant was dotted with security cameras now, as well—a precaution after the two ‘mysterious accidents’ over the past couple of weeks. No doubt it was partly down to my fluctuating hormones as my heat cycle approached, but I couldn’t help feeling like there was some sort of invisible target painted on our backs.
It was slightly after two p.m., and the thought that my vital package of blockers might be sitting unattended on the front porch at the house was unbearable. If it had just been for me, maybe I could have waited... but it wasn’t. Luca was depending on those pills, and unlike me, he wouldn’t have time to try and find another source before his heat.
I never did things like this. Never .
And yet, with the itchy prickle of dread crawling beneath my skin like insects, I looked up at Nat and said, “I need to go see if it’s arrived. Shani and the kitchen staff will have to cover things for a bit without me.”
Nat looked surprised, and I couldn’t really blame him. But, to his credit, he only nodded. “It’s the afternoon lull. They’ll be fine for an hour. Just...” He hesitated. “Why did you have the package sent to our house, instead of where you’re staying? Is everything okay there?”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. “Because I’m an idiot, apparently,” I muttered. Letting my hand drop, I met his gaze and held it. “Yes, everything’s fine. But I do appreciate you asking. And I promise that if it was anything like what you’re worried about, I’d tell you. But right now, I have to go. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
After giving the kitchen a heads up, I jogged out to where my car was parked, feeling equal parts foolish and worried. It was raining—a steady shower that was too heavy for intermittent wipers, but too light for the low setting. The rubber wiper blades squeaked across the windshield, grating on my already overstretched nerves.
At least the traffic was relatively sparse, with a couple of hours left before rush hour hit.
The familiar drive felt oddly jarring. This route had worn tracks in my mind over the years, gradually becoming second nature. Yet, I hadn’t driven it since moving in with Luca and the alphas. Normally, it took no conscious thought, my body making the turns on autopilot. This time, I kept getting jolted back to reality with every familiar landmark.
I told myself I was being ridiculous. The package would be safely under the cover of the porch, waiting for me. I’d grab it and go back to the restaurant with all my worries soothed. Any juvenile delinquents with nothing better to do than steal people’s mail would have either lost interest or given up when everything started going to the post office box instead.
I set my turn signal and approached the little white house’s driveway, just as the rain turned from a steady shower to a downpour. Through the sheets of water sliding over the windshield, I could just make out several chunks of torn and soaked cardboard on the cracked concrete. My tires crunched over broken glass as I pulled in, and my heart leapt into my throat.
No .
I set the car in park, not bothering to turn off the engine as I opened the door and was immediately pelted by huge, cold drops of rain. More glass crunched beneath my shoes. Two flower vases had been hurled against the pavement, a few large shards sitting near the wall of the house, while the smaller pieces of broken glass had washed halfway down the driveway beneath the force of the rain. Lengths of discarded bubble wrap lay forlornly nearby.
I hurried up to the area next to the front porch, water dripping from my eyelashes. My clothing was completely soaked through after only a few seconds.
The large box had been ripped into several pieces. Hoping against hope, I scoured the driveway for anything in a small plastic bag that might have somehow escaped notice. Only when I expanded my search to the grassy front yard did I finally find what I was looking for.
Two empty plastic Ziploc baggies floated at the edge of the expanding puddle of rainwater that always collected over the slight depression in the yard where our water meter sat. The water was cloudy white, and a couple of dozen tiny lumps sat at one edge of the muddy pool.
Pills, or rather the half-melted remains of them—dissolving away to nothing as I watched.
In a daze, I picked up a little square of heavy paper that lay nearby. Its bright colors had run, but the cheerful message printed in black was still legible.
“ You Matter !” it said. “ Have a Wonderful, Flower-Fresh Day !”
I sat in my car, still in the driveway, with the defroster making no inroads on the condensation obscuring the windows as my soaked clothing steamed its moisture into the air.
Feeling as though I was moving in slow motion, I rummaged in my bag for my phone and pulled it out. As quickly as I could, I navigated to one of the emails from the seller and clicked the link, opening it in a browser.
Maybe there was an option for overnight or two-day shipping that I hadn’t seen the first time. I could get it delivered directly to the house in Ladue this time—
Out of stock .
The rectangular notice half-covered the photo of a flower vase, bold and unavoidable. Desperately, I scrolled through the rest of the seller’s items, but there was nothing else that came with flower food tablets... nothing that could remotely be used to hide contraband pills.
I let the phone fall to my lap and covered my face, breathing deeply. I had two weeks until my heat. That would probably be enough time to find a different source and get it shipped to me. It wouldn’t be in time for Luca, though. His heat was in a week, so he’d need the blocker within the next few days.
I desperately didn’t want to have to tell him what had happened... but I needed to. Reluctantly, I lifted the phone again and pulled up a text window. My fingers felt like lead as I typed.
Luca, I am SO SORRY. The package was destroyed. The flower food tablets are gone. Seriously, I am SO SORRY about this.
I hit send, feeling like I was stabbing myself in the stomach with a rusty knife. Long moments passed before a series of dots started marching across the screen. It stopped, then started, then stopped again.
I rolled my lower lip between my teeth, feeling like the worst friend who had ever friended. Finally, a new text bubble popped up.
OK. Thx for letting me know .
My stomach cramped and turned over. I resisted the urge to text back with something inane and useless—more ‘sorries,’ or ‘maybe there’s still time’. I’d have to talk to him when I got home. Right now, I had a kitchen to run.
Because there wasn’t another choice, I waited until the defroster won the battle against the vapor clinging to the car windows and drove carefully back to the restaurant in the pouring rain.
Waving away the various expressions of concern, I put on a clean chef’s coat over my wet clothing and tied on an apron. Then I spent the next several hours working hard to keep my shit together, focusing on getting excellent food out to hungry customers in a timely and efficient manner.
After service was finished, Nat succeeded in cornering me.
“Careful, there’s broken glass in the driveway at the house,” I told him flatly. “Do me a favor and see if the camera caught anything this afternoon.”
And then, I walked out.
It was stupid. Finding out who’d been playing porch pirate wouldn’t help Luca, and I’d have to be an idiot to press charges over a package that had contained contraband drugs.
Assuming there was even a way to identify the vandals.
The rain had stopped. The air held that chilly, late-night humidity peculiar to the aftermath of heavy downpours. Flashes of distant lightning illuminated the remnants of the storm along the eastern horizon, now dumping its contents somewhere over Illinois.
I drove back to Ladue, dreading having to talk to Luca face to face.