Because thinking meant worrying, worrying meant stress, and stress was what’d caused this whole mess in the first place.
So, I followed my stalker’s orders—well, and the emergency doctor’s orders—and called my regular doctor’s office to make a follow-up appointment.
There, I’d done all the adulting I was capable of right now. Time to go back to sleep.
Chapter 9
Eric
Istared at the blackout curtains as if they might pull open and reveal a clear night sky all on their own, even though I knew that wouldn’t happen. For once, the dark navy blackout curtains had neither a timer nor an electric motor, and also, it was only four p.m. I still had a couple of hours to go till sundown.
Hell, I was supposed to still be in bed and fast asleep, but my fucking brain wouldn’t let me. Nope.
There was one thing and one thing only on my mind: Finn.
I wanted to see him again, wanted to check if he’d received my groceries, wanted to make sure he was eating correctly.
The need was like an itch under my skin. An itch I couldn’t scratch. A nagging feeling that wouldn’t even stop pestering me in my sleep.
And it’d only get worse.
With a sigh, I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Oh, hey, it was four thirteen now. A whole whopping thirteen minutes had gone by since I’d last checked the time. At this rate, I’d die of boredom by the time the sun went down.
I unlocked my phone and stared at the screen. I could try reading a book to get my mind off Finn. Or I could start watching a new show. But I’d been doing that a lot during the last three years, and there were almost no new shows to watch that actually interested me.
“I need a fucking hobby,” I muttered to myself. A hobby that was not stalking my mate.
Fortunately, I got a new message from one of my roof friends. Unfortunately, it was just an invitation for game night next week, nothing to keep me busy for more than a few moments.
But before I could navigate back to a different app, I spotted Finn’s name in my recent chats. Right. Because we’d exchanged numbers at the hospital. Well. More like I’d given him my number and officially texted myself from his phone so I’d have his. He wouldn’t realize I’d already snagged it when I took him home after I’d accidentally had him drugged.
I could text him.
I should.
If Aries was correct and Finn was my mate, staying away wasn’t an option forever. As it was, it was getting harder and harder to get away from that damn roof opposite his apartment. If Bennie would let me, I’d set up a fucking tent up there.
A tent should have a high enough SPF for me not to get sunburned and end up looking like blistered rotisserie chicken, right?
Then again, maybe actually talking to him via chat would help a little with the nagging feeling of anxiety. At four… oh look, four sixteen, he should be awake, right? So he should be able to answer fairly quickly, and that would tide me over until I couldsafely get out and check up on him in person. Well, watch him from a roof in person.
Hi, it’s Eric. The guy who invited himself along on your hospital trip? Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. Hopefully, the puking blood thing stopped.
There…
I read the text again. It sounded different from the notes I’d left. Right?
Hopefully. I didn’t want him to find out I’d been the one trying to get him to see a doctor. He’d have questions like, “How did you know about my iron deficiency?” or “Did you test my blood?” And later, “How the fuck did you get a blood sample?” Followed by, “Did you drug me?”
I shuddered. No, answering any of these questions wasn’t something I wanted to do anytime soon. Possibly ever.
I hit send anyway, then tried—and failed—to put my phone down.
Great, now I was lying in bed, clutching my phone in my hand, desperately waiting for an answer.
Was this more or less pathetic than the stalking?
Bennie would probably call itcuteoradorable. Ever since our conversation with Aries two days ago, he wouldn’t shut up about me having found my mate.
