The Care Package (The Special Delivery Duet #2)

Chapter 1

TANIA

My mom’s laughter drifts through the car as she looks over her shoulder at me in the backseat.

“You already had chocolate cake at the party, mija, we’re not going for ice cream. You have your father’s sweet tooth.”

I pout, because ice cream is my favorite and I still have room in my belly.

The sun is setting after a fun birthday pool party at my friend’s house, complete with pizza and chocolate cake.

Purples and pinks dapple the sky through the muggy July haze.

My dad drives, humming along to the rock music softly playing on the radio.

He makes an affirmative, laughing snort at my mom’s declaration.

“Nothing wrong with a sweet tooth,” he chortles.

The car is filled with the summer scents of sunscreen and chlorine as the businesses and restaurants on Rte.

33 pass by my window on our way home. I can see people having ice cream outside at the ice cream parlor near our house, and I whine, begging one more time to stop.

My dad starts to say no, but his words get cut off, because a blur of green machinery flies into us, going through their red light at top speed as we’re going through the green light.

My mom screams and my dad yells words in Spanish I know I’m not supposed to say.

I hunch in the backseat, terrified, my heart pounding so hard I think it might crack my ribs.

The crunch of metal rings out louder than a bomb, and I feel the car spin before we’re hit again by another one. Then everything goes black.

My eyes fly open, tears leaking out of them as I try to control my panting breaths.

My throat tries fruitlessly to work around the boulder sized lump lodged in it.

Sweat coats me in a sticky layer as I attempt to extricate myself from the tangle of blankets on my bed.

Peeking at my phone, I see it’s not even 5am.

An annoyed huff leaves me as I flop back down into bed, rubbing my eyes and wiping away the tear tracks on my cheeks.

This nightmare haunts me like the ghosts I see in it, even 20 years later, never letting me have peace.

At the same time, I cling to the memory.

I never want to forget that night. Going into my nightstand drawer, I pull out the last photo taken of me with my parents.

It was from my kindergarten graduation just a month or so before the accident, my teacher made sure she photographed every student’s family.

A tiny version of me with a blunt bob and thick fringe of bangs underneath the little graduation cap looks up at my dad with trusting brown eyes and a huge smile.

He’s looking at me in my mom’s arms with pride while she kisses my temple, his arm around her waist to pull her close.

My eyes burn as I look at it, trying to remember the sound of their voices, how they always smelled like honey and jasmine, and the way they would hug me.

After so long it feels as though they’re fading in my mind.

All I have left of them, aside from this photo, is a small box of other pictures, little mementos, and a handful of their books saved from all those years ago.

Everything else was sold to fund my upbringing and put into a small savings for me.

There is also the looming piece of their history back in Spain that I just found out I inherited when I turned 25 a month ago.

Not that I’ve been able to fly over there to see it or have the emotional capacity to think about it much right now. One day I’ll get there, though.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back to sleep, even though I don’t have to be up for another hour.

Deciding it’s a lost cause, I pad into the kitchen for some water and to start brewing an extra large portion of coffee.

My two tuxedo cats, Morticia and Gomez, wind around my legs as they follow me, voicing their confusion at me being up already, but hopeful for early breakfast.

“Yes, my loves, you’re getting early breakfast today. At least my lack of sleep works out in your favor,” I inform them, bending down to scratch each of their heads as they chirp adorably at me.

My cheap one bedroom apartment is tiny, but I like how cozy it is.

It came furnished with everything I need.

The basic wood bed, dual nightstands, small dining set, couch, coffee table, bookcase, and TV stand all match and do their job.

The galley kitchen has tan pergo flooring that has seen better days, ugly beige laminate counters, and builder grade cabinets.

All of the appliances work, thankfully, and that’s all I need. It has character.

While the coffee brews, I sip my water and get my little furballs their breakfast. Morticia dives in like she’s never had a meal in her life, while Gomez eats like the gentleman he is.

They were a product of the fabled cat distribution system, finding me as kittens when I was walking in to work one day over 7 months ago.

I heard them crying under a bush near the front entrance of my FedEx hub, and as soon as I saw them I knew they were mine.

They both have large, soulful, jade colored eyes and gorgeous markings that make them look perpetually dressed up.

I fell head over heels instantly. The vet was gracious enough to give me a huge discount for bringing the two of them in at once and waiving some of the fees to make the initial bills easier.

It wasn’t something I had on my bingo card of carefully laid plans, but they’re worth every penny.

I didn’t realize how much I was missing pure, unconditional love and affection until they came into my life.

Once they’re done eating and I’ve had enough caffeine to somewhat function, I hop into the shower to wash the nightmare off of me and try to relax.

The hot water and floral body wash help soothe me, but I know getting through my FedEx route today is going to be rough with the poor sleep.

At least I’ve become used to it since this is a regular thing.

I’m already looking forward to grabbing a little cat nap in my truck during lunch.

I try to cover up the dark circles under my eyes and take my time with my makeup before I secure my long, dark hair into a ponytail with a braid going around the hair tie.

Giving the cats each a quick kiss on their heads goodbye, I head out early to treat myself to an Americano and breakfast sandwich with pork roll, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel before I get to work.

Living in NJ has its perks, there is nothing like the breakfast sandwiches here.

Salt, pepper, and ketchup on them is a must. I’m still a little shaken from my nightmare, but the greasy perfection and extra caffeine help so much.

By the time I pull into the hub, I’ve managed to put it in a box, locked away in the back of my mind so I can focus.

Work is bustling with everyone getting ready to head out on their routes for the day.

The loaders are hauling the last of the packages into the trucks, my supervisor is giving last minute assignments, and the drivers are chatting with a healthy side of shit talk as they check their trucks.

There is only one other female driver in this hub, and she’s out on vacation this week, so it’s just me amongst the sausage fest.

“Castillo! You are serving today with that gorgeous ponytail. How’s your route looking?

” My best friend Ray comes up and gives me a high five.

His bright smile gleams against his ebony skin, and his freshly done cornrows peek out from under the back of his uniform cap.

I love his fabulous ass to death, we bonded quickly when I started working here over a year ago.

He and his boyfriend Diego are my go to friends since I don’t really have anyone else around here.

If I’m socializing at all, it’s usually third wheeling with them.

“It’s not bad at all, I should be done at a decent time unless traffic is awful. I’m about 30 minutes away a few towns over. Thank fuck, because I am exhausted,” I tell him honestly. He lowers his voice, and his demeanor sobers.

“Another nightmare wake you up, boo?” I give a quick nod, not really wanting to go further into it so I can keep my mind on my work.

Ray is one of the few people who knows that I have recurring nightmares, but even he doesn’t know the full depth of them.

He squeezes my shoulder, already understanding, and starts heading toward his truck.

“Text me at lunch to let me know how your day is going,” he tells me quietly over his shoulder.

“I will, lovie. Talk to you later.” I blow him a kiss to let him know I’m fine.

Before I go toward my truck, I feel the prickling sensation of eyes on me.

I turn, and there is Carlo Hernandez, boring holes into me with his gorgeous brown puppy eyes from two trucks over, shamelessly not turning away.

He holds my gaze instead, and mouths, “you ok?”