Page 48 of Ruin Me Gently

“Last night.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at me like that would somehow clarify whatever was rattling around in his brain. “On the way home. You made us stop off at some random house so you could grab something off the doorstep.”

My stomach tightened. “What?”

“Yeah, man. You were on a mission. Mumbled some shit about needing to get it before morning. I figured you’d remember.”

No. No, I obviously did not remember.

“What was it?” I asked, heartbeat kicking up a notch.

He shrugged. “Dunno, dude. You never showed me.”

“And you’re just bringing this up now?”

He checked his phone, ignoring my glare. “My bad.” He shot me a lazy grin, stepping out of the room. “Anyway, wish me luck.”

The door shut before I could respond.

What did I pick up last night?

Retrace your steps.

Well, I couldn’t do that could I? Not when my mind was as blank as a politician’s promise.

I’d stopped somewhere last night. I’d taken something.

I just had no clue what.

Heat raked over my skin as I jumped out of bed and ran through the penthouse, scanning the whole place, eyes darting over the coffee table, the kitchen counter, the bathroom.

No sign of whatever it was.

Drawers yanked open. Cabinets checked. I tore through my desk, rifled through my jacket pockets, checked my bedside tables—nothing.

What was I even looking for?

The frustration burned hotter as I turned back toward the bed, digging my fingers into my temples.

Think.

I dropped down onto the mattress, elbows braced on my knees, trying to pull something, anything, from the void of last night.

Something crinkled beneath me, and I frowned, shifting slightly.

I reached under my thigh, fingers brushing against something thin and worn.

Of course it had been exactly where I’d been lying.

A single scrap of paper, folded over itself, creased and worn from how I must have shoved it there, my own drunk self doing me no favours.

I unfolded it, and my heart fell straight out of my ass.

‘Why do you not speak? Have you nothing to say for yourself? Or have you lost your voice along with your courage?’ - Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera.

I turned the slip of paper between my fingers, exhaling a quiet laugh.

Clever.

It was bait wrapped in wit, an unspoken challenge laid at my feet, daring me to bite.

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