“Hi,” the guy said, grinning at me from under a cap branded with a local grocery chain. He’d donned a matching T-shirt, and as he got closer, I could read the name tag with Liam on it. “Finn Carpenter?”
“Err… yes,” I said, blinking.
This looked legit.
Had my health stalker really ordered groceries for me?
“This might sound weird, but do you have an order form or anything for me?”
If he were a fraud, he’d drop the bags to jump me any second now, but… nothing happened. Liam gave me an easy smile and extended his hand for me to grab the bags.
“Not a weird request at all. I sure do; it’s in my back pocket. In theory, we’re supposed to use clipboards, but no one was able to answer my question of how I’m supposed to carry up to six bags of groceries and a clipboard at once. So, back pocket it is. I’ll also need you to sign the form.”
Accepting the bags was a risk, but one I had to take.
While Liam pulled a folded piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, I quickly stashed the bags behind the door, half expecting Liam to jump me now. But he didn’t even try to get closer to the door, just patiently waited for me to grab the form.
“There’s a copy for you, too.”
I unfolded the paper and gave it a quick once-over. It looked legit. At least as far as I could tell. Maybe this really was a legit grocery delivery.
Then again, how hard would it be to fake a delivery form? It’s not like whoever they were was trying to print counterfeit money.
Still, just in case this was real, I scribbled my name on the bottom of the first page and handed it back to Liam, who folded it and put it back in his pocket.
“Neat. That’s it. You already paid for your order online, and thank you for adding a generous tip.” He waved at me and turned around.
And just like that, I was alone again with two bags of groceries that might or might not be poisoned.
Chapter 6
Finn
I’m losing my patience. I know you haven’t seen a doctor yet. At least you ate some of the groceries, but not enough to replenish your iron. You need pills for that at least, maybe even a couple of infusions.
If you need help to pay for your doctor’s visit, leave me a note. I’ll help.
Just… please, please,pleasego and see a doctor.
Holding a hand to my stomach, I stared at the note I’d ripped off my front door after I’d come back from a quick trip to the pharmacy. The pharmacist had recommended some Prilosec, but had also advised me to see a doctor if at all possible.
The realization that my stalker might be onto something—not necessarily my iron levels, which he seemed to be obsessed with, but the whole gastritis thing—was a bit of a mindfuck.
Finding yet another note from him didn’t help.
My stomach cramped painfully around nothing, because I might’ve tried not eating so it wouldn’t hurt so much. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. Now my stomach was trying to digest itself, which wasn’t any less painful.
“I’m truly going mad,” I said to no one but myself as I looked at the note again.
Was I really considering listening to a stranger who left creepy medical advice on my door?
No.
I shook my head, then got up and headed for the fridge. The world around me spun again, but by now I was basically a pro at pushing through. My blood pressure was probably just low; my mom was the same.
But when I started puking bright red blood after trying to eat a bit of chicken with rice an hour later, I was starting to wonder if the medical fetishist might’ve been right after all.
Chapter 7
