Page 36 of Covert Operation

After about an hour, I take a break and go switch over the laundry. Another cup of coffee circulating through my system, and I’m back to work.

I’ve got almost everything where it goes when my cell dings, alerting me to an incoming text. I rush to open it and I’m a little ashamed at the disappointment I feel when it’s not from Zeke. Instead, it’s my sister.

Sadie

We’re having everyone over for poker night tonight if you want to come.

I don’t play poker, but I generally do enjoy the get-togethers my sister hosts. It’s great at taking my mind off things and distracting me from all the crap I don’t want to deal with. And right now, I don’t want to deal with unpacking from dusk to dawn, so I reply.

Sure. What time?

The six o’clock start Sadie gives me leaves way too much time for me to keep working, but it’s better than nothing. I agree, offering to bring something to snack on because making an appetizer will eat up a little more of the time I don’t want to spend busting my ass unpacking.

Finishing the spare bedroom will be more than enough for one day, so as soon as the sheets are done in the dryer, I assemble the bed, vacuum the carpet, and look over what my hard work has produced. It looks...

Fine.

I don’t get the same joyful feeling I used to get when I looked over the same room in my old house, but maybe that’s to be expected. Maybe it’s yet another thing that will never go back to the way it was.

In one last ditch effort to make the room more appealing, I plug in a wax warmer and plop one of my favorite scents into it. After flicking on the light bulb inside, I leave it to melt, hoping if it smells right, I’ll be slightly less neutral about it.

Having buzzed past my typical lunchtime, I reheat the leftovers from last night’s dinner. Zeke seemed to really enjoy it, and that makes me way happier than finishing that upstairs bedroom did. If I start cooking again, I bet he’d love the extra. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about waste and he would have something in his fridge when he gets to his suite at night.

The idea has me rushing through my meal, excited about all the things I can make for him. After loading my dishes into the dishwasher, I scour the kitchen for ideas of something I could make to bring to the party—and offer the extra to Zeke tomorrow at work. Unfortunately, I’m just as strapped for ingredients now as I was last night.

My stomach twists. I haven’t been grocery shopping on my own since moving here, and I’m not sure I want to tackle that today too.

But I could place an order like we do at headquarters and go pick it up. I have a car now. One that’s snow and ice free thanks to Zeke’s encouragement and assistance. I can handle a pick-up, right?

I spend the next hour browsing through the grocery store’s online selection. Once I have everything selected, I place theorder and use the time before I have to head out to take a shower and make myself public-presentable. I’m not actually getting out of the car, but I still take the time to curl my hair and put on a pretty dress.

Once I’m dressed, I load into the SUV, take a deep breath, and venture out into the world alone.

Driving is slightly more intimidating without Zeke in the car next to me—most things are more intimidating without Zeke next to me. But he has a job and a life and I can’t rely on him for everything. Regardless of how I might feel, I know I’m not actually helpless.

I force myself to take slow breaths as I follow the directions my phone gives me, eyes darting from mirror to mirror. I’m nearly to the store when I notice the same car has been behind me almost the whole drive.

Is someone following me?

My stomach clenches and my hands start to sweat. I’ve got my finger on the screen of my phone, ready to call Zeke when the car turns.

My shoulders drop as relief sweeps over me.

I was just being paranoid. Not surprising, but still a little disappointing.

Regardless, I’m on high alert while the attendant loads in my purchases and I take a different path home, making absolutely sure no one is following the same path.

When I finally pull into the garage, I let out a long breath. It wasn’t perfect, but I survived my first trip to the store. Pride liftsmy lips and straightens my shoulder. I bask in the glow as I get to work.

It carries me through unloading the groceries and making the ginger soy glazed meatballs I decided on. I’m still feeling pretty freaking accomplished when I walk next door at 6:15, carrying my vat of meaty goodness.

“Here.” A familiar deep voice stops me halfway up the stairs leading to Sadie’s front door. “I’ll carry that.”

I stare in shock at Zeke. “What are you doing here?”

He never comes to these things. Not a single time has he been to poker night. It’s unexpected as heck.

And makes me ridiculously happy.