Page 11 of Back To You

I’m mad and frustrated and tired, and my patience is on the floor with the way this man is acting like I won the lottery with this break-in.

“That’s for sure,” he answers with a smile that does nothing to make me comfortable, his hands tucking into the pockets of his uniform as he looks around my place.

It’s a studio, so everything, from my unmade bed to my destroyed desk to my disheveled kitchen, can be seen from where he is standing.

It might not be much, but it’s mine.

And someone broke in.

I can’t even feel scared about all of this because of how furious I am that someone could be so violating.

This apartment is the one place I feel like I can relax and not have to worry about a million and one things.

I glance at my desk and see a mess, but it isn’t my mess. My mess was made up of my vet school textbooks opened to specific pages I was reading, my lecture notes, my planner, and my laptop with all my tabs open.

This mess is all my papers scattered on the floor, textbooks pushed off, and my laptop gone and in some evidence bag.

My eyes sting, and I blink away the tears of frustration as I turn to face my kitchen. The cabinets and drawers are opened as if the stupid kid was looking for what else he could take. The small appliances that were on my counter are now broken on the ground as if he had a tantrum when he couldn’t find anything else.

My toaster, my blender, and my well-loved stand mixer, all no better than broken parts.

Just like me.

How fitting.

Officer Collins and Mr. Dominic are now chatting in hushed tones in my living room, and my thoughts are interrupted as the door opens. My friends file in to see the damage, lingering near the opened door, their patience no better than mine apparently.

I see their shocked faces and anxious features, and my stomach knots. I don’t want them to worry about me.

“Did they catch the guy?” Mia asks, her arms latching around Eddie’s.

“Yeah, and he didn’t take much. The officer said I’ll be able to get my stuff back in a few days after they process everything.”

“Are you okay?” The concern on her face makes me feel guilty that they had to come here on their wedding night of all nights.

Before I can tell her I’m fine—leaving out how pissed I am at the kid who thought it was okay and the complex for their shitty windows, and how much of a pain in the ass it’s going to be to deal with—Officer Collins and Mr. Dominic walk over to where we’re all standing.

“Do you have somewhere else you can stay?”

I whip around to face the two of them, confused by the officer’s question. “What? Why would I need another place to stay?” I look to the manager of the complex standing next to him, but his head is down, his face hardened. He doesn’t look at me as he moves through the group of us and leaves my apartment. I turn back to Officer Collins.

“You said you already caught the kid,” I argue.

The police officer lets out an exhale. “We will be opening up an investigation with the complex, seeing as the assailant was able to get into the locked windows from the outside.”

My mind begins to race with how I’m going to start vet school rotations in a few weeks, and this man is telling me I’m about to be homeless. It’s the middle of July, and rotations start the first week of September.

“How long will that take?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“A month or so, give or take,” Officer Collins answers, and my stomach drops. “Possibly more, depending on our findings,” he adds.A month?Maybe more?“You should pack for what you need tonight, and then you can stop by tomorrow to grab the rest.”

The ground is ripped from under me, and I feel like I’m free-falling with no end in sight. This night just keeps getting worse.

I know my friends would offer to let me stay with them, but I can’t agree to that. Not when Eddie and Mia just got married and Drew and Emmett will have a whole-ass baby to stress about in a few days.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me from the doorway behind me, can almost hear them telling me I have a place to stay with them, but I can’t do that to them.

I can’t make my problems their problems, not when they have their own lives to live.

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