Her hands start to tremble as he lifts the envelopes, and that snapsmeinto protective mode.
I’m up and moving before I can even think. I scoop her up bridal-style, then take us both over to the couch.
“Easy,” she murmurs weakly. “I haven’t been sick in two hours. Doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“You can throw up on me if it gets that anxious look off your face. What’s going on?”
“Don’t be mad.” She looks nervously between Mason and me, and my hackles are up instantly. “I get fan mail in the PO Boxes I have set up. Some of them are weird, which isn’t unusual. People start obsessing over figuring out who I am and where I live. Comes with the territory when you stay anonymous. But there have been ones over the last year from someone with the initials D.T., and they seem pushier than others.”
“Let me see.” She hands them over, and ice slides down my spine as I read them.
“What really put it over the edge,” she continues, “is when I made my PO Box here in New York. D.T. was the first person to send me a letter.”
“Why is that bad?” Mase asks slowly.
“Because I hadn’t listed the box publicly yet.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t know how they found it.”
“Fuck,” I mutter when I read the last letter.
Then my head snaps to Mason.
He knows.
This is bad.
He takes the letter from me and reads some of it out loud.
There are demanding ones like…
Cherry,
I insist you answer me. Now!
Sweeter, but still weird ones like…
Cherry,
I’m still waiting. Please, darling, I need my piece.
And the one that has me dialing Ethan immediately.
Cherry,
Answer me, or you’ll be sorry.
“Madeline.” Mason raises his voice. “What were you thinking?”
Addie takes the last letter out of Mason’s hand, her face draining. “You didn’t show me this, Maddie Grace. This is really bad.”
“I never opened it,” she admits. “I was busy and shoved it into my bag. I didn’t see it until now.”
“Bad?” Mason is on his feet now, pacing like a caged animal. Big brother mode unlocked. “You have someone tracking you, showing up to your building, to your floor, knocking on your door not once, but twice. This isn’t bad. This is call-the-fucking-police-or-you-could-get-killed bad.”
“All right, calm down,” Leo tries.
“Calm down?” Mason explodes. “I’m not calming down. This was reckless as hell, Madeline. You’re smarter than this. What were you thinking?”
He slams his glass on the side table, and it shatters everywhere, his drink flying over my couch, and I can’t even say one word about it.
