Page 46 of Pet Project

I skip over to the pantry and realize that breakfast might be reaching. Pulling open the fridge, I notice the trend continues and the smile falls off my face.

Where the fuck is the food?

55

DONNIE

Most days, I have my alarm set for five so that I can get up, start the coffee down in the shop, get a run in, and shower before opening up at six thirty. So why is my phone going off at four forty three?

I stumble out of bed to the living room to get my damn phone from wherever I dropped it last night. Digging iy out of my jacket pocket, I notice there is only five percent battery left.

I want to strangle whoever is blowing up my phone at this hour. Considering it’s close enough to the time when I need to be awake, I head to the kitchen to plug in my phone there while I get some caffeine in me to wake up.

Shiloh insisted we needed to get a Keurig, and I’m grateful to it as my zombified ass stumbles through the apartment in the dark. I’m not going to lie. It’s fucking convenient to have a single cup brewed in under a minute. But for taste, I still prefer what I brewdownstairs compared to any prepackaged stuff, no matter how convenient this might be.

As I take the first sip, my phone starts to vibrate across the counter. Glancing at the screen, I see it’s the notification for the doorbell camera in the alley. The damn app must have updated and reset the sensitivity settings. I swear every time it happens, I’ll get alerts for every car that uses the alley, every stray cat that wanders by.

By the third notification in under five minutes, I pick up the phone and decide to check the app. Not enough magic bean juice is in my system yet for figuring out the settings to get it to stop. I take another sip of my coffee while I wait for the app to connect and almost choke when I see Toby on the screen with his arms wrapped around himself, bouncing from side to side.

I hit the button for the microphone and run back to my room to grab pants to throw on.

“Boy, what the fuck are you doing outside?!” I growl out as I yank on the first pair of pants I see, only to realize these are Shiloh’s and way too tight. Fuck it. They’ll do.

“I wanted to surp-p-prise you with b-b-breakfast,” he manages to get out and holds up a bag to the camera.Fuck!Ignoring my shoes, I rip open the apartment door and fly down the stairs to the back door. Throwing it open, I see him shivering in his t-shirt and jeans with about a dozen grocery bags at his feet.

“Get your ass inside! It’s barely forty degrees out here.”

It’s way too cold out to be outside without a coat. Iknow I’m only wearing pants, but there’s frost showing on the edge of the dumpster. We’re in that weird part of autumn in Southwestern Pennsylvania where it’s seventy something one day and then it barely reaches fifty the next day. Anyone who has lived here for more than a year should know better than to brave an October morning without layering up.

What the hell was he thinking? It’s too fucking cold out to not be wearing a coat for anything longer than a dumpster run, and it’s obvious he went a hell of a lot farther than the dumpster. Glancing at the logo on the bags, I realize he didn’t go to a local store either. I don’t even know this place or where it is, and I’ve lived here my whole damn life. I reach down to grab the bags and nudge Toby into the warmth of the building.

Locking the door behind me, I try to calm my breathing. I know I shouldn’t have yelled, but seeing him on the screen shivering scared the shit out of me. I didn’t even notice that he wasn’t in the apartment…

“How long were you waiting out there?” I ask pulling him into my arms in the darkness of the stairwell, rubbing my hands along his bare arms to warm him up. “And why the fuck did you go shopping? Nothing in this area opens before six, not since the pandemic.”

Toby sniffles a bit and huddles in on himself before replying, “I’ve been up for about two hours, maybe three. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but y’all are worse than Eric when it comes to keeping real food stocked.”

I chuckle at his response. Having gotten to know Ericover the last six months or so, I have to agree. He and Matt really don’t do well at keeping food in the house. Ms. Sara, Matt’s mother, really spoils them with premade meals.

“And the store? Where the hell did you find somewhere open at this hour?”

He pulls back from my embrace, but tucks in on himself like he wants to disappear. He’s still shivering. He obviously needs the comfort and warmth, but he’s denying himself for some reason.

Note to self: I need to be careful using admonishments for the pup.

“I’m not mad at you, Toby,” I tell him and pull him back into my arms. My fingers under his chin lift his gaze up to meet mine. “You just scared the shit out of me before I had enough coffee in my system. Now, where did you go shopping?”

He shakes his head out of my grip and snuggles in closer to my chest. His mumbled response is complete gobble-de-gook as far as my under-caffeinated brain can comprehend. Rubbing his back, I ask him to repeat himself a bit louder.

“There’s a Korean grocer about a mile away from here,” he says with a sigh and backs away to start grabbing up the bags. “The son was in a few classes with me last year and he lets me come in and shop whenever he’s there, even if they aren’t technically open. He stays up late to talk to his extended family in Seoul, so I’m not putting him out or anything.

“Plus, this way I’m ahead on my step count for the day, right?”

Taking a deep breath, I try not to overreact. Not only did this precious boy go grocery shopping at three in the fucking morning, he walked a mile each way without wearing a coat or having any way of getting back inside.

“Did you even…”

Before I can ask about his phone, because lord knows I have noticed that he didn’t once try to call or text, a blood curdling scream echoes down the stairwell from my home. Glass shatters as Toby drops the bags in his hands and races up the stairs. I’m barely half a second behind him.

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