Maggie
The white comforter is tangled around my legs, and gold stripes of morning light spill across the bed. The ceiling fan spins slowly overhead while the city begins to wake up outside my window.
Last night’s memory swirls in my mind, warm and frustrating all at once. I remember standing by the car, the river breeze moving through the trees, and the driveway lights glowing on the front steps. Alexei kissed me so hard my knees went weak, then pulled away, leaving me reeling.
I groan, staring at the ceiling, and pull the comforter over my face. The most irritating part isn’t how he kissed me. It’s that some stubborn, disappointed part of me wished he’d asked me to stay. I wanted him to pull me back inside instead of watching me leave.
Lord above.
That man is gonna be the reason I lose every last ounce of good sense I’ve got.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, the sound jolting me. I grab it quickly, then instantly hate that my heart jumped at the thought it could be him.
Instead, the screen lights up with: FLASH SALE!! 40% OFF OATMEAL LAVENDER DOG SHAMPOO! Because your pup deserves luxury, too!
I toss the phone onto the mattress and fall back against the pillow, groaning.
“Yep,” I mutter to the ceiling. “That feels a whole lot more on brand for my life.”
Unfortunately, my brain ignores the dog shampoo message entirely and circles right back to Alexei. Which is exactly the problem.
The thought slips into my head fast enough to make my stomach flip.
The truly unfair part isn’t that he’s powerful or intimidating or tied to things I probably don’t want to know about.
It’s that somewhere between Ivy feeding treats to shelter puppies and Alexei kissing me by the car last night, I stopped wanting to keep my distance from him.
I shake my head while reaching for my toothbrush.
Bossy. Completely unreasonable. Unfortunately, very sexy.
My phone dings again, and another message appears. The screen lights up with his name, and warmth rushes straight into my chest before I can stop it.
Alexei: Eat breakfast today, Maggie.
A low laugh slips out while I stare at the message.
So bossy.
Alexei: And coffee is not breakfast.
I stare at the screen.
“How does he even know that?” I mumble.
I type back while leaning against the bathroom counter.
Me: This level of surveillance feels invasive.
Alexei: Correct.
I nearly choke on my own laugh.
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
My phone rings before I can answer Alexei.
Mama.
I swipe to answer while walking into the kitchen. “Mornin’.”
“Maggie Mae, don’t panic.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid instantly. I stop beside the counter. “What happened?”
“Baby, I’m alright.”
That makes it worse. Her voice sounds off. She’s not crying or hysterical, just strained in that way when she’s trying not to upset me.
“Mama.”
She exhales quietly through the phone. “Somebody broke into my car.”
A chill wraps around me.
“When? What happened?”
“It was either last night or earlier this morning. The driver-side window’s busted out. I saw it as I was headed out to work.”
I hear movement in the background, then her voice lowers a little. “The police already came by. They’re sayin’ it was probably random.”
Probably.
I grip the edge of the counter. “What did they take?”
“My glove compartment was open, and my registration papers got tossed everywhere. They even pulled napkins and receipts outta the center console.”
My stomach twists. “That’s not random.”
“Maggie—”
“No, Mama, that’s weird.”
“I know it’s weird.” She tries to laugh lightly but fear still clings beneath it. “Maybe somebody was lookin’ for money or medication or somethin’.”
The uneasy feeling crawling beneath my skin grows worse. “Did you see anybody around the house?”
“No, honey.”
I press my hand against my forehead and close my eyes. “I’m comin’ over.”
“You don’t need to rush down here.”
“I’m already puttin’ my shoes on.”
That finally earns a real laugh out of her, small and tired. “There’s my girl.”
Then her voice gets serious again. “There’s one more thing,” she starts, clearing her throat. “They left your shelter hoodie on the front seat.”
My eyes widen. “They left what?”
“Your hoodie. The blue one with the paw print on the back that you keep at the shelter.” She pauses, then releases a slow breath. “It was folded up on the front seat.”
Fear trickles slowly down my spine. Somehow, my hoodie ended up folded neatly on the seat. How did they get it from the shelter?
Suddenly, my apartment doesn’t feel quite as safe anymore.
Before I can answer her, another call flashes across my screen.
Jules.
My stomach drops instantly. Jules never calls this early unless there’s a problem.
“Mama, I have to call you back.”
“Maggie—”
“I’ll come by the diner later, I promise. And I’ll call Willie at the auto shop to get the window replaced. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I switch over before she can argue.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Maggie.” Jules sounds breathless. “Someone broke into the shelter.”
Every trace of warmth drains out of me. Clearly, that’s how they got my sweatshirt.
“Tell me everything.”
“The back door was forced open. I got here twenty minutes ago and the place is wrecked.” His voice shakes. “Files got pulled everywhere. Cabinets dumped out. One of the computers is gone.”
I feel sick to my stomach. “What about the animals?”
“They’re okay. Shaken up, but okay.” He exhales hard. “The police are here now.”
I’m already in the bedroom, grabbing jeans from the floor. I contemplate telling him about Mama’s car and my sweatshirt but decide he’s dealing with enough right now.
“I’m comin’ now.”
“Thank the Lord,” Jules says quickly, relief moving through his voice. “Just drive careful, alright?”
“I will.” I end the call and release a deep breath, gripping my phone while unease presses harder beneath my ribs. Then I force myself to move.
I yank on an oversized T-shirt, throw my hair into a messy knot, grab my keys off the kitchen counter, and head for the door.
The drive across Savannah feels strangely unreal.
Morning traffic eases through downtown while tourists wander the sidewalks, carrying iced coffees and shopping bags, as if this is just another ordinary Monday.
The flower boxes outside the old brick storefronts overflow with pink and white blooms, and somewhere near Broughton Street, a musician plays guitar music that floats through my open window at a stoplight.
Meanwhile, my pulse refuses to slow. I grip the steering wheel tighter while replaying Mama’s voice in my head.
They left your shelter hoodie on the front seat.
The more I think about it, the worse it feels. It wasn’t random. It was intentional. Like someone wanted us to know they’d been there. I shake the thought away, but by the time I turn onto the road leading toward Second Chance Savannah, unease has lodged itself deeply beneath my skin.
Police lights flash blue and red near the front entrance.
My stomach drops instantly. Two patrol cars sit crookedly across the gravel lot while volunteers gather near the entrance in nervous little clusters.
One officer stands near the shattered back door speaking quietly into his radio while another writes notes beside the reception desk.
And through all of it, dogs bark anxiously from inside.
The second I climb out of my car, Jules appears in the doorway. Relief crashes visibly across his face.
“Oh, thank God,” he says while hurrying toward me. “You’re here.”
His dark hair looks messier than usual, and there’s coffee staining the front of his gray T-shirt.
“You okay?” I ask immediately.
“Emotionally? No. Physically? Mostly.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escapes me. “That’s encouraging.”
“I’m coping through sarcasm.” He pulls me into a quick hug before stepping back again. “Honey, come look at this mess.”
The second I walk inside, my heart sinks. The shelter feels wrong, violated.
Drawers hang open behind the front desk. Papers cover the floor in uneven piles while one of the office chairs lies tipped sideways near the hallway. Glass is scattered across the tile beneath the wall beside the supply room from a shattered framed adoption photo.
And the animals know something happened. The barking rolling through the kennel area sounds nervous and sharp, not playful, while distressed meows echo faintly from the cat room farther down the hall.
I move automatically toward them.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur while walking between kennels. “It’s alright, babies.”
Several dogs push against the fencing toward me while others pace anxiously near the backs of their runs. Bella lifts her head from her bed in the corner of the medical room and releases a low, worried whine when she sees me.
“There’s my girl.”
I crouch beside the kennel and slide my fingers through the wire. Bella presses against my hand instantly, her tail thumping once against the blanket beneath her.
Jules leans against the doorway, watching me quietly. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Forget the entire world’s falling apart the second one animal looks upset.”
I glance back at him. “Priorities.”
His mouth softens before the worry returns almost immediately.
“They definitely knew where they were going,” he says while motioning toward the office. “They ignored donations, petty cash, all the electronics except one laptop.”
I stand slowly. “What did they take?”
“We’re still figuring it out.”
Together, we walk toward the back office while officers photograph the damaged door and the nearby broken lock.
The farther inside I get, the worse the knot in my stomach becomes.
Cabinets stand open. Folders are dumped everywhere.
The desk drawers are pulled completely out and overturned, as if someone had carefully searched the place instead of rushing.
Jules rubs one hand across the back of his neck. “They hit the medication cabinet too.”
That stops me in my tracks.
He points toward the supply room.
The heavy metal cabinet mounted to the wall hangs partially open now, the lock snapped clean through.