True North Book 3 - Finding Now Kate and Sam by Allie Juliette Mousseau Read Free Book Online

some more medications—antidepressants and anxiety meds mostly, but none looked close to empty and I wasn’t even sure you could overdose on those.
    I got back up and checked her. She was sleeping soundly and I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. I sighed in relief. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes since our run-in behind More Hall. Since the bus trip, I’d put my wristwatch on timer mode. I felt like I was playing Russian roulette with her, and if she got worse I would need to have exact times for the paramedics.
    Now I picked up her phone. I’d have to get in touch with someone who knew her. I went through her contact list.
    “What the fuck? How’s that possible?” I whispered. There were only four contacts total : Mom, Dad, U of W Faculty Office, and Soul-sucking Headshrink.
    I glanced over the phone at her. She was incredibly beautiful and ridiculously intelligent, how was it that she had no friends?
    Looking back at the numbers, I analyzed them. I had no idea where the area code for her parents was from, but it definitely wasn’t for the state of Washington. Soul-sucking Headshrink was a Seattle number. If the situation hadn’t been so serious I’d probably laugh at such a name.
                I held her phone against my lips, thinking. I certainly didn’t want to piss her off by calling anyone. I also knew that if she took a turn in the wrong direction, I’d be carting her ass to the hospital no matter what kind of fight she put up.
    Breathing deeply, I let myself sit back down. Her apartment was impeccable. Not a speck of dust, very simple: a loveseat, a bed, a desk and a small dining table with only one chair. Everything was in earth tones. Something wasn’t right, though, but I couldn’t quite grasp what. I considered going through the drawers beside her bed, but thought better of it. I didn’t want to wake her up and make her think I was a dick or a thief. What kind of guy helps a woman out then goes through her shit?
    My stomach growled, and I hoped Ms. Freak-Me-Right-the-Fuck-Out had something good to eat because I had already made up my mind that I was going to stay until I was satisfied that she was alright. I kicked off my Vans, making myself at home, and walked into the small kitchen space.
    “Damn.” The air rushed through my cotton shirt as I walked, and I remembered her depositing the contents of her stomach onto me. I stripped out of my vomit dried shirt and looked under the kitchen sink for a bucket. Sure enough. I filled it with cold water and dropped my shirt in to soak then washed my hands and searched for sustenance.
    “Of course you have no food in the house. You’re probably a fucking robot.” She had nothing in her refrigerator except for bottles of orange juice, milk and diet coke.
    Rummaging through the cabinets I found half a box of plain graham crackers and Cheerios.
    “Dinner.” I poured a bowl of cereal and milk and took that and my side order of crackers back to the love seat.
    While I chewed, I studied the room. No television, no stereo system or docking station. There weren’t any magazines on the end table or books on the shelf.
    “Personality.” I put my finger on what I had been trying to grasp before. The room had no personality or character whatsoever. There were no photographs or paintings or posters hanging anywhere on the walls or the fridge. No magnets or clocks, no trinkets or stuffed animals. The furniture could have been rented from a showroom; it all matched perfectly and had zero personal touches.
    Quietly, I went back into the kitchen, rinsed my bowl and decided to check out the bathroom. A dark green towel set hung from a wooden dowel. A plastic bottle of Burt’s Bees soap sat at the edge of the sink. I opened the medicine cabinet: Band-Aids, a tube of Bacitracin ointment and cough syrup.
    I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip before I said, “Fuck it,” and began opening the three small drawers on the side of the