Page 115 of Puck Me Back to Life

I laugh.

“He alphabetized my spice cabinet once because he got bored.”

“I completely believe that.”

Angela shakes her head. “Maybe he's just sick?”

The concern in her voice matches my own.

She points toward the apartment next to hers.

“I'm 610.” Then toward the next door. “He's 612.”

She hesitates. “Follow me. Our patios connect.”

I blink. “What?”

“We keep the doors unlocked.”

“Seriously?”

She shrugs. “Emergencies.”

Apparently, today counts as one.

She unlocks her apartment. “Come on.”

I carry the box inside, dropping it gently in the entryway.

The place is warm and lived in. Plants cover nearly every available surface. An enormous orange cat lifts his head from the couch, judges me silently, then decides I'm not worth the effort.

“Cleveland.” Angela points. “Don't be rude.”

The cat immediately ignores her.

“I like him already.”

“You shouldn't.” She laughs.

“Back there.” She gestures toward the sliding glass door.

“Thanks.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

I nod once, then step through the patio door. The two balconies are separated only by a waist-high divider. Kai's sliding door is unlocked.

I knock anyway. “Kai?”

Nothing. I slide the door open and step inside. The apartment is silent.

My eyes immediately travel across the room. Protein shake bottles sit abandoned on the coffee table.

Three takeout containers are stacked beside the couch. Several crumpled bloody tissues litter the floor. A towel lies crumpled on the floor in the kitchen. The sink is full.

My first instinct is to start straightening everything. Years of living alone have made clutter feel physically uncomfortable. I shove the urge aside. Later. Find Kai first.

“Kai?”