Page 32 of Be Mine

“Don’t you dare!”

“I got this. Go talk to your man.” She waves her hands at me to get moving, and I do. But before, I pull her into an embrace.

“Thank you, for being such a good friend,” I say. I’ve always felt like I was alone in this world. I kept myself guarded, afraid to get hurt again. But I’m realizing I have some people I can depend on, and Taylor is one of them. I’m lucky to have her.

I sneak through the traffic doors and walk through the back, walking the length of the store, past freezers and pallets of food. Outside of the meat department, I take a few calming breaths. I don’t have a plan on what to say, I just know I need to see him.

I push back the flaps, walking into the cool room, the smell instantly assaulting my senses. It’s seriously vile in here. The first thing I notice is the silence. No music. Only the hum of the freezer and the scrape of the blade across the butcher’s block. Donny, the department manager, is leaning against the long steel table cutting roasts, but he catches me out of the corner of his eye. He’s a small man, in his late fifties, cloaked in the same butcher’s coat Noah wears, the front smeared with blood.

“Hey, Frankie.” He smiles.

“Hey, Donny, you manning the ship all alone today?” I’m fishing for clues.

He wipes his hands on his coat and turns fully towards me. “Yeah, Noah’s taken a leave of absence, unfortunately. Kyle is going to pick up some extra shifts to help, but I only got the call yesterday, so I’m on my own for the day.”

He's taken a leave of absence.He left.

Chapter Twenty-One

Frankie

The rest of Monday drags. Tuesday is the same. Wednesday feels torturous.

The more time that passes, the more my chest feels like it’s been hollowed out. I watch the news constantly, but there are no reports of any arrests in town. How could he just up and leave? By the end of my shift, I’ve convinced myself to drive to his house. My memory isn’t great. The first time he drove me there I was drugged, and when we left, my nerves were on the fritz, but I have a vague idea of where it is.

It takes a while to find it, these wartime homes all look similar, but I remember the red brick with the added-on garage. Three twenty-two. The driveway is empty, no tire tracks or footprints. It looks like it could use a shovel after the recent snowfall we had. Parking on the street, I climb out of my car, up the stone steps, and knock on the door. I listen for footsteps, waiting for the door to swing open and be met with those blues I can’t get out of my head. Seconds roll into minutes. I’m chilled to the bone; my breath comes out in smoky puffs with every sigh. Admitting defeat, I pull my coat closed and walk back towards my car idling on the road.

A small terrier starts yapping at me, tugging a little old lady behind it. “He’s not home,” she says over the barking mutt.She wraps the leash around her hand a couple of times in an attempt to restrain it. Why is it always the little dogs that have the big attitudes?

“Do you know where he went?”

“Pepper, stop that.” She gives the leash a quick tug to no avail. This dog doesn’t like me one bit. “No, he came and shoveled my driveway Sunday evening. Said he would be gone for a while but didn’t tell me where.”

He shoveled a little old lady’s driveway? This man never ceases to amaze me.

“Okay, thank you.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slump back against the headrest, letting the heat thaw my stiff limbs. Tears come before I can stop them. I swipe angrily at them with the sleeve of my jacket, but they’re coming in spades.

Pulling the pendant free from my shirt, I twirl it between my fingers. The blood warms under my touch, flowing freely up and down the walls of the hourglass. The guilt weighs heavy on me, thinking that I just tossed it in the trash.

I let out a shaky breath, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyeliner is smudged, my amber eyes rimmed red from tears. Licking my thumb, I try to right my makeup, wiping at the smears of black that streak across my cheek. I need to go home. Feed my cat. Wallow in self-pity. Then do it all again tomorrow.

Unlocking my door, I expect Cosmos to run towards me, bitching loudly that his food bowl is empty like he usually does, but when I open the door, I’m met with a silence so sharp it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand erect. The apartment is swallowed in darkness, eerily so. The light I leave on above the stove is off—not even the glow from the streetlamps streaming through the windows can be seen.

Maybe there was a power outage? Or a breaker tripped? But the halls in the apartment are lit, and I can hear my neighbor’s TV through the door.

“Cosmos,” I whisper-yell to him, hoping to hear his little mewls. Taking reluctant steps into the apartment but keeping the door propped open, I call to him again, making the universalpsssp, pssspcat sound. Nothing. The room is lifeless. Terror trickles down my spine, column by column, making me shudder.

Shuffling in a little more, I overextend my body at an awkward angle, reaching for the light switch yet keeping my foot against the door. But just as my fingers glide against the cover, I lose my balance, tumbling to the floor. I catch myself with my hands, but my foot slips, the door clicking shut.Shit.

Pushing up on shaky legs, the palms of my hands throbbing in protest, I swipe blindly in the dark until I collide with the light switch and the light turns on. I scurry through the living area and kitchen, turning every lamp and light on until the apartment is illuminated.

Jesus, Frankie, you need to chill.I shake my head as I shed my coat and hang it over the kitchen chair. Faint scratching noises come from down the hall, and now I feel like shit because I must have locked Cosmos in my room this morning. I hope the little fucker didn’t piss on my bed.

My ears prick with the subtle sound of music, barely above a whisper, but my heart latches onto it like it’s the antidote to the ache I’ve felt these past few days. My hands tremble as I lean on the knob and edge the door open. Cosmos runs out, screeching angrily at me; I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I’m focused on the man sitting on my bed. It's so dark I only see his silhouette, but I know it’s him. The scent of linen and leather permeates my room.

Unchained Melodyby The Righteous Brothersplays somewhere, and my heart pounds like a drum in time with thebeat. I’m rooted to the floor, everything in the room disappears, all I see is a shadowy outline rising from the bed, slow and steady, every footstep making my breath hitch.

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