Chapter Fourteen
Theo
My nurse caught me snoring twice today. I think it’s Tuesday, but I’m not quite sure because I pulled another overnight ER shift. I can hardly keep my eyes open. To everyone else, it’s time to clock in and start the day. For me, it’s the end of eighteen straight hours of nonstop work. This killer schedule is going to be the death of me. I grab my diabetic kit and keys, ready to leave the ER. Hello, snoozy time.
My buzzing phone makes me whine. I love my job, but please, not another emergency today. I examine the display and see that it’s another message from I’m not a stalker.
“Not now.”
On my way to the door, I decide I can’t let it go. I have to read the text. It’s like a hangnail waiting to be ripped off.
Stop by the gym as soon as you’re fit.
And accidentally leave your diabetic kit.
One letter you’ll gain if it’s left in her room.
A second one’s yours if she returns it by noon.
I whimper. I want sleep. Darla, you had better be glad you’re cute. As if I’m on autopilot, I drag myself across campus to the fitness center. I swipe in and shuffle inside like a zombie. I have no business being here, and I certainly don’t need to leave my kit lying around. If I weren’t leaving it in the hands of a licensed medical professional, I would never even consider it.
I peek inside an office and see Darla pecking away on her computer, humming to the tune coming out of her stereo. I can’t make my feet move, so I lean against the doorframe. Her office is rather bland, no personal items at all except for one small picture of a toddler perched on the edge of her desk. She’s a mom. That must mean she’s married. Crapity crap crap crap.
I clear my throat, finally catching her attention.
Her posture stiffens. “Oh.”
“So, is this where you hide out during the day?”
She waves her hand through the air. “Yeah. My home away from home—when I’m not playing vampire, that is.” She bites her lip, making me salivate.
“Can I come in?”
“Uh, sure. Have a seat,” she says, nibbling on a fingernail.
I slide into the chair next to her desk. I’m not sure what to do or say now that I’m here. She may be the one behind these messages and getting a thrill out of making me do these things. But on the other hand, she may be totally clueless, no pun intended.
“To be completely clear, I’m not stalking you.” Hint, hint. Come on, Darla. Give me a sign that you’re my anonymous messenger.
She grins. “Never crossed my mind.”
Bummer. She didn’t give me one twitchy, nervous reaction.
“So…” She tries repeatedly to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She gives up and blows the hair out of her eyes. “Are you getting settled in?”
I cannot get near this girl without her reacting nervously. Calm down, Juliet. I won’t bite. I mean, I might bite, but it would definitely be consensual. “Yeah. Everyone’s been very helpful. Already working my ass off.”
“Anything unexpected?” she asks.
Yeah. You could say that. It’s a Hangman puzzle you sent me. “Uh, no.”
Her lips are stretched into a tight straight line. “That’s good. Great. Good.” She drums her fingers on her desk.
We stare at each other. I need to find a way to break the ice. I point at my diabetes bag. “Do you mind if I check my sugar before I work out?”
She blinks. “Of course not. Do you need an Accu-Chek?” She starts to get up.
I wink at her while I fish through my pack. “I come prepared.” And I’m leaving it in your office like your message instructed me to. I take out the glucose-testing machine and place a test strip in the slot. “This is my lifeline. Never go anywhere without it, but I do need a pen. Can I borrow one?”
She stares at me while she rummages around in her desk drawer. “Here.” She holds out a tampon for me to write with.
“Uh, I don’t think I’ll need one of those anytime soon.”
She crinkles up her brow and takes a quick peek down. A horrified expression crosses her face.
“Oh shit,” she screeches and slams the tampon back into the drawer. She throws a pen at me then slaps her hands over her face, peeking at me between her fingers. She’s so cute trying to hide her beet-red face.
A chuckle escapes my lips as my eyes roam the small office. I wipe my finger with an alcohol pad and prick it with a lancet. I nod toward the frame on her desk. “Nice picture.”
She lowers her hands. “Huh?”
I motion with my head toward the picture of the toddler dressed in a Princess Leia outfit and holding a trick-or-treat bucket.
Then I focus back on my finger and force the drop of blood onto the test strip.
“Oh,” she says and slides the picture into her desk drawer.
That’s odd. “Yours?” Please say “no.” Please say it’s a niece.
She growls at me. “Yes. I have a daughter.” She stares a hole through me. She pastes on a cavity-producing sugary smile, while I try not to show how defeated I feel.
“Congratulations.” Gah. I can’t stop my runaway mouth. This has to be her secret. Dang. Game over before it ever got started. “She’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“She doesn’t look anything like you.” Way to go, Casanova. That didn’t come out right.
She blinks and nibbles on her fingernail again.
I squeeze my eyes closed for a second and take a calming breath. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that she doesn’t favor you. Maybe your husband?”
If she says “yes,” I might throw up all over her desk and shoot the messenger. The entire premise of the game makes no sense if she’s married.
“Nope.”
Hallelujah! And I’m back in the game.
“Divorced?” Boy, I sure am nosy. The Accu-Chek beeps, making me jump.
“No, never been married, okay?”
“Oh. Good, I guess.” That was stupid. Way to go, Mr. Diarrhea Mouth. Now she has my nerves all whacked.
She cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should go work out?”
“Yeah, guess so. Do you mind if I leave my kit here?”
“Why?”
Like you don’t know. “It has my emergency glucagon in it. I need it close by in case my sugar drops too low.”
“Oh, sure. No problem. But I’m heading to a meeting soon. I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can get it before you leave. Get your kit after you get fit.” She laughs at her own joke. “It rhymes. Kit and fit… never mind.”
I quirk an eyebrow.
“Seriously, it will be safe in my office, but I wouldn’t want you to be without it if you need it.”
Maybe she isn’t the one sending me the game. Before this conversation, I was sure it was her. But now, I don’t know.
I write down my glucose value on my log sheet. “Good. Thanks.”
I don’t want to move, but I force my legs to leave her office. “Good to see you again, Juliet. Thanks for the… pen.”
She lets out a relieved laugh, as if she was holding her breath during the entire conversation. I start to leave when she says, “Have a good workout, Romeo.”
I chuckle as I wave good-bye. I sneak a peek back toward her office and find her beating her head against her desk. God, she is absolutely adorable, and I am absolutely doomed. I situate myself on a bench and start pumping out a set of bicep curls. Isaac wanders around the workout area. When he sees me, he waves.
It’s him. Isaac has to be the culprit. During our coffee time, he mentioned that coming to the gym could be a way to ease back into Darla’s life. It’s him. It has to be.
“How’s it going? Theo? Or is it Romeo?”
I laugh and nearly drop the dumbbells. In my state of exhaustion, I really shouldn’t be using anything heavier than two-pounders. Even those might feel heavy. I’m such a wimp.
“You’re not stalking me, are you?”
Isaac scrunches up his brow. “Come again?”
I wave him off. “Never mind zombie boy over here.”
“So,” he whispers. “You here to work out or for the scenery?” He nods his head toward Darla’s office.
I put the dumbbells back on the rack. “Considering I can hardly keep my eyes open, I’m going with door number two and say the scenery.”
Isaac laughs. “Maybe you’ll win the grand prize.” He waves to another fitness member. “Take it easy. See you soon.” He strolls away.
My two prime suspects act clueless in regards to the Hangman puzzle. I’ll find out who’s sending them to me eventually. But most importantly, I’m going to get some more letters to that puzzle.
I manage to push my body through thirty minutes of a half-assed workout before I can’t take it anymore. I peek inside Darla’s vacant office. My bag sits right where I left it. I snicker to myself as I tiptoe out of the fitness center and head home. Let’s see if she takes the bait. Whatever happens, I have a pillow calling my name.