Yours Since Yesterday

by Jennifer Bernard

  “Oh my God, do you think that’s…”

  “Why are you still next to me?” Panic threaded his voice. He didn’t want Zoe paying the price for his crazy life.

  “Because I’ve probably already been exposed by now. Just…don’t move, Padric. I got this.” She slowly backed away so as not to disturb the powder and dialed a number. “Hi Nate, this is Zoe and Padric. Yeah, I know. Again. We’re just trying to keep your life interesting, sorry. We’re in the elevator at the Eagle’s Nest, and Padric just opened an envelope that has a white powder in it and a threatening note. Yeah. Okay. Yes, I’ve heard of 9-1-1. We just like you better. Yes, we’ll do that. Thanks, Nate.”

  She hung up and gently touched Padric on the back. “He’s calling everyone on the biohazard team. He said just stay right here and don’t move and don’t let anyone else get exposed. He’s going to call the desk clerk and tell him what to do. Also, he said you’re going to owe him several dozen beers at the Olde Salt after today.”

  “I hear that.” He tried to talk without emitting any breath that might stir up the powder. It wasn’t easy. “Jesus, Zoe, I’m damn sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

  “I definitely had something else in mind for the rest of the evening, but I’m glad you’re not alone. I’m sure we’ll get that shower at some point. Probably Silkwood-style, or a fire hose behind the station, but that works, too.”

  In Padric’s experience, very few people wouldn’t be freaked out about the situation. “How are you staying so calm?”

  “You try making pizza for a screaming mob of hungry fishermen. You get used to keeping your cool.”

  An endless moment passed until they reached the ground floor. The door opened, then closed again. The desk clerk stared at them as he spoke on the phone.

  “Did they say how long they’d be?” Padric asked.

  “No, he just said as soon as possible. Only a few of our first responders are familiar with the biohazard protocol. They probably have to dig out the gear from under someone’s cot.”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” he warned her.

  “Do you really think it’s something dangerous? I can’t believe anyone actually wants to kill you. Why would anyone want to kill you?”

  “You heard that woman, Mary. I’m sure it wasn’t her, but people can get angry and vengeful. I never realized it until I entered the public eye.”

  She leaned against the back of the elevator. The door stayed closed, which probably meant that the desk clerk had gotten the word from Nate and had disabled the elevator.

  “Do you like being a rock star?” she asked. “I mean, besides this part of it. But the rest of it? Is it everything you dreamed?”

  “Are you trying to distract me?” He actually found himself smiling at her. Turned out being with Zoe improved every kind of situation.

  “Yes. I know, you could sing me a song.”

  “How about one of the songs about you,” he said without thinking.

  She gave a double take and stood up straight. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She was exhausted, and now she had to deal with this crap. So unfair. “One of the ones about me? What do you mean?”

  “Forget it. I wasn’t serious.”

  “Yes you were. I know you. Did you really write more than one song about me?”

  “Oh, only all the early ones,” he said uncomfortably. “Song-writing is how I process things. You were a big part of what I was processing. I told you that, remember?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t realize that the songs were about me. I thought they were about you.”

  He cocked his head. “They’re both. Those early songs were like…letters, kind of. Except in song-language, so more metaphorical and poetic. Or at least my version of poetic.”

  She was still staring at him in astonishment. “So there are songs about me out there and I’ve never listened to them? I’m such a dumbbell.”

  “They aren’t going anywhere. It’s not too late. Well, I suppose it might be, if…” He gestured to the white powder in his cupped palm.

  She paled. “Don’t joke about that. My God, Padric.”

  “Sorry.” He hadn’t really been joking, but decided he shouldn’t mention that.

  “You weren’t joking, were you?”

  He gave the faintest shrug of his shoulders.

  “You know,” she said slowly. “There’s something I should tell you, too. Especially given the circumstances. In case I don’t get another chance.”

  They looked at each other, the potential gravity of the situation sinking in.

  “What’s that?”

  “I did a lot of processing, too. Mine was in the form of letters.”

  “I never got any letters.”

  “That’s because I never sent them. I didn’t have your address, and I wouldn’t have mailed them anyway. Too personal. But I still have them.”

  “You still have them?” This felt like huge, important news. Almost important enough to make him forget the possibly deadly powder in the palm of his hand.

  “Oh, somewhere. Maybe under the bed. Or in my shoe closet.”

  He shot her a death glare.

  “Don’t get excited and start throwing that powder around like flour at a cupcake fight.”

  “Fine, as long as you let me read those letters.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She winked at him, her dark eyelashes fluttering up and down. He realized again that she was trying to distract him, to keep him from losing his cool. And that made him fall a little more—

  Holy shit. In love with her.

  That was what was going on here. That was why he’d been so single-mindedly focused on spending time with her. Holding possible death in his hand brought it into crystal-clear focus. He was falling in love with Zoe.

  “That’s not fair,” he managed. “I wear my heart on my sleeve. I put it all in my songs.”

  “Yes, but my letters aren’t exactly works of art.”

  “If we survive this, do you promise to let me read them?”

  “If we survive this, do you promise to let me have a shower in your fancy hotel suite?”

  “Done. I mentioned the Jacuzzi, right?”

  “You did. And the thousand-thread-count sheets.”

  “I’ll even throw in some pizza delivery.”

  She laughed, then immediately covered her mouth with her elbow to stop the puff of air.

  Someone knocked on the elevator door. A muffled voice called to them from the other side. “We’re opening the door now. Can you hold your breath while we’re prying it open?”

  A few moments later, the door slid open and two people in white biohazard suits and gas masks stood before them. Behind the masks, he saw Maya Badger and a paramedic he’d seen around the firehouse.

  Officer Badger stepped to his side. “You doing okay? Any symptoms?”

  “I feel like sneezing,” he told her. “But I refuse to.”

  “Good. Nothing else? Sore throat, nausea, shortness of breath?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is paralysis a symptom? He hasn’t moved a muscle since he opened that envelope.” Zoe’s voice wavered even as she attempted a light tone.

  Officer Badger looked over at her sternly. “How about you, Zoe? Any unusual symptoms? Like joking at inappropriate moments?”

  “I’d say that’s normal for me, so no. Nothing unusual. But I didn’t get as close to it as Padric has been.”

  Maya—Padric remembered her from school—opened a white plastic bag and carefully slid the envelope and its contents into it. She swabbed his hand with something like a Q-tip, then handed it to the other paramedic, who held some kind of testing kit.

  “We should know in a minute if it’s toxic.”

  “You mean, anthrax?”

  Officer Badger nodded calmly. “Anthrax is one of the substances we can detect. There are a few more as well. Lucky for you, Lost Harbor got a grant for a pilot biohazards program. Otherwise you’d be up shit’s
creek.”

  “Good to know,” Padric muttered. “Are you always this diplomatic with panicky people who might be holding anthrax?”

  “You don’t seem panicky to me. You’re holding it together really well. And my point was, you’re not up shit’s creek. We got this.”

  “Negative,” said the paramedic.

  “No, we do. Sure, this is our first actual biohazards event, but we’ve trained for this and so far, it’s textbook—”

  “No, I mean, the sample is negative. It’s not anthrax or any of the other major toxins.”

  The tension in the elevator deflated with a collective “whew” of relief. Officer Badger lifted Padric’s hand and cleaned it with a baby wipe. He realized his entire arm was trembling from the effort of holding all that adrenaline at bay.

  “Mind if I keep the envelope and the note?” Officer Badger asked. “We’ll open an investigation into who sent it.”

  “No, that’s great. I’m glad not to be poisoned, but that was scary as shit, especially since Zoe was here.”

  “I wasn’t scared,” she insisted.

  “I was scared for you,” he told her. “It’s one thing if someone comes after me, but not you. That’s not okay.”

  He caught the surreptitious glances from Officer Badger and the other paramedic. Well, the word about him and Zoe would definitely be getting out now, unless he stopped it now.

  “Any chance we could keep this very quiet? I don’t want the media getting ahold of it.” He held Maya’s gaze. “Paparazzi are a public safety issue.”

  “Good point.” She turned to the paramedic and said sternly, “Not a word to anyone about this. Whoever left this was probably local. We don’t want to tip them off about anything. As far as the perp knows, Padric never got the envelope, he never opened it, and we never came here. Got it?”

  The paramedic nodded reluctantly. That was a lot of juicy information to keep to himself.

  “I’m deadly serious, Mike. If anyone finds out, I’m going to blame you. Chief Boone will hear about it, and you don’t want that smoke. Zoe, Padric, that goes for you, too. No one can know about this. He’ll probably try again, so Padric, if you get any other mysterious communications, call me immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He’d always liked Maya, who’d been quiet but cool and confident even in her student days. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a police officer, but she wore the badge well. “Thank you for coming out so quickly.”

  “We aim to serve here in Lost Harbor.” The two of them collected their gear and turned to go. “Loved your last song, by the way. Kick-ass.”

  “Hey, thanks.” Her compliment gave him a surprising amount of gratification. She was a grownup, not an angst-ridden teenager. “Nice of you to say.”

  “Keep singing, Padric. Ignore the haters. And the powder-senders.”

  And she and the paramedic were off.

  He caught Zoe’s gaze. Wow. What a crazy experience. What an endlessly long day. He punched the button for the top floor. “Okay then, where were we?”

  “I think you were saying something about a Jacuzzi?”

  Light-headed from the release of all that tension, they held each other and laughed helplessly all the way to the top floor.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Over the past week or so, Zoe had done her share of fantasizing about what spending the night with Padric would be like. Bare skin, flexing muscles, dreamboat eyes blazing above her.

  The reality was nothing like her imagination.

  They were both so exhausted from the long day that he fell asleep in the armchair, fully dressed, while she showered. She gently woke him up so he could take a shower. Wrapped in a gigantic fluffy bath sheet, she sank onto the couch just for a moment—which turned into a sleep so deep, she barely felt him lift her up and carry her into the bedroom.

  Her eyes drifted open as he tucked her into his bed. She certainly noticed that he was bare chested, with only a towel wrapped around his hips. Even half asleep, she took note of his rippling chest and the old fishhook scar he’d gotten at age twelve.

  She realized that he was going to leave her alone in the bed, and grabbed his wrist to make sure he didn’t do anything of the sort. “Stay,” she murmured.

  After that, she sank into a deep, exhausted sleep that lasted until late the following morning.

  Strange dreams flitted through her mind like mist in the forest. A twin engine plane vanished with a burst of white powder that showered through the air. The full moon rose above the trees—a pepperoni pie, by the looks of it. Padric strummed on a guitar, a single spotlight illuminating his strong form. He sat on a boulder and sang to a gaggle of squirrels, who ignored him as they feasted on baklava.

  She woke up with a start. All those images were so clear in her mind that she wanted to memorialize them. A painting? Paint was not her strength. She’d always preferred to shape things with her hands. Maybe that was thanks to her pizza-making background.

  But clay…yes, she could make a clay display of Padric serenading the squirrels. That would make a whimsical addition to her figurine project.

  Padric.

  She glanced to the other side of the bed and saw that it was empty. A note sat on the pillow.

  Had to go tend to a few things. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchenette. I’ll be back soon.

  Great, they hadn’t even had sex and she was getting the brushoff. She knew this feeling all too well. One moment it seemed that everything was going along fine. The next, you were getting a text—“we should talk”—or a phone call—“I don’t know how to say this, but—”

  Why was she such a magnet for rejection?

  She pushed aside the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Naked in Padric’s fancy hotel bed, and he hadn’t even waited around to take advantage of that.

  Fine. Time to go home and put this whole crazy experience behind her. Handling rejection was her superpower. She knew how to do this. The trick was to get back to work and carry on as if nothing was different. As if she hadn’t had the most intense orgasm of her life on a remote trail in Lost Souls Wilderness. As if her childhood friend hadn’t just returned and turned her life upside down.

  She wrapped herself in the bath sheet that Padric had thoughtfully folded for her. Her clothes were also folded in a tidy pile, but they were so grungy and smelly that one sniff made her toss them aside.

  Maybe she could call a friend and get them to bring her some clothes. A very discreet friend. Megan Miller owed her a few favors.

  She pulled her phone from its waterproof pocket in her backpack.

  Shocked, she saw that it was nearly one in the afternoon.

  Luckily it was Sunday, and the Last Chance was closed. But when was the last time she’d slept this late into the afternoon?

  She wandered out of the bedroom, chasing the scent of fresh coffee. Rain pattered against the windows and clouds of mist drifted above the bay like smoke. A gray day matching the heaviness in her heart.

  As she was dialing Megan, the door to the suite opened and Padric stepped inside. Her heart turned over at the sight of his vivid blue eyes and freshly shaven face. Droplets of rain clung to his tousled hair. He carried a bouquet of peonies in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. A tote bag hung from the crook of his elbow. Her tote bag.

  “I brought some clothes for you.” He set the tote bag on the kitchenette counter. “I figured you wouldn’t want yesterday’s gear anywhere near your body.”

  “My clothes?” she said blankly.

  “I hit up Monica and Alexis.”

  “Oh no. What did you tell them—”

  “Nothing. I bribed them,” he admitted with a grin.

  Zoe rolled her eyes at the thought of her shameless twin sisters charging Padric for their silence. “They’re impossible. What’s in the bag?”

  “Thought you might be hungry.” He opened the grocery bag so she could peer inside. Her stomach whined at the aroma of freshly baked sweet roll
s from the Sweet Harbor Bakery.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned.

  “Still your favorites?”

  “Absolutely.” She inhaled the steamy, sugary fragrance and nearly cried with joy. “You keep bringing me food. Yesterday’s picnic, now this. Usually I’m the one feeding everyone.”

  “I know.” He said it so simply, as if it was perfectly obvious that she must need a break from being pizza-provider to one and all. “That was my thinking. Also, I know how much you love food.” He winked at her. “Figured that’s the way to your heart.”

  She picked a flake of sugar off the roll and nibbled at it. “When I saw you were gone, I thought you were blowing me off.”

  “Really? Why? I left you a note.”

  “Yes, but the note was kind of…impersonal.”

  “Was it?” He gave her a tender smile and handed her the bouquet of peonies. “Sorry. Conveniently, I happen to have some apology flowers. My note was meant to be informational, that’s all.”

  She took the flowers and breathed deeply of their fresh scent. Between the cinnamon rolls and the flowers and the scent of Padric’s clean skin, she was in sensory heaven. Her heart glowed. He’d brought her flowers. And food. And that smile.

  “It’s me. I’m an idiot. I’ve just had a few bad experiences, that’s all, so I automatically jump to conclusions. It’s not your fault. Your note was perfectly fine.”

  He took the bouquet from her grasp and set it on an end table. Then he cupped her head between his hands and brushed his lips ever so lightly against hers. “I get it. I won’t write any more impersonal notes. Hell, I’m a songwriter. I should have written you something more poetic. But you looked so delicious, I had to get out before I woke you up with my giant hard-on.”

  She laughed, a flush sweeping up her face. “Now that’s my kind of poetry.”

  His eyes darkened as he tugged her lower lip between his teeth. The light scrape triggered a dazzling burst of sensation.

  “Eat your sweet roll,” he commanded in a gruff voice, his forehead touching hers. “You’re going to need your strength.”

  “Oh really?” she managed through her suddenly tight throat. “What for?”