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“I bet,” she laughs.
I struggle with my stupid door and give the key a wiggle as a frustrated groan tears from the back of my throat. This damn door has been a nightmare since the day I moved in. Needing two hands, I drop my bag to the ground and squish my phone between my shoulder and ear again. “Fuck you, you stupid fucking door,” I grunt at the bastard.
“What’s going on?” Cassie laughs.
“My stupid door is jammed again.”
“Give it a kick,” she offers.
I do just that and get an odd satisfaction out of it, and after wiggling the key again, the door opens right up. Grabbing my bag off the floor, I step over the threshold and come to a startled halt. “Shit,” I screech through the phone, fear pounding through my veins. “I’ve been robbed.”
“What?” Cassie gasps.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I do? What do I do?” I rush out, motionless in the doorway.
“Fuck. Fuck . . . um. I don’t know,” she panics. “Is anything gone?”
“I . . . ” I can hardly talk as I look around. Everything is gone. My whole life is completely gone. It looks as though someone has literally come through here and decided they liked my setup and stolen everything, right down to the dirty dishes I’d left on the coffee table.
My hand cradles my stomach as the tears take over. Fuck these stupid pregnancy hormones. I don’t have the energy for this shit.
“Jax,” Cassie yells. “We need to go.”
“Huh? What’s wrong?” I hear him ask in the background.
“Bri’s place was broken into.”
“Fuck,” he curses before a shitload of rustling. “Bri?” Jax asks, and I realize Cass has put me on speaker. “Are you okay?”
Tears spill down my cheeks, feeling completely deflated. “Yeah,” I whisper, slowly creeping deeper into my empty apartment.
“Was anything taken?” he questions.
“Yeah,” I scoff as I look around the bare apartment. “Everything’s gone. My couch, my TV, even my fucking coffee table and wall art. It looks like the day I moved in.”
“Shit,” he grunts. “You need to call the police,” he says as I continue looking around.
“Don’t hang up on me,” I rush out, terrified of being alone right now. I mean, I know I’m technically alone, but once they hang up, I’ll really feel alone.
“We won’t,” Cassie says, softly, trying to soothe my nerves before speaking a little quieter to Jax, commenting how strange it is for someone to have taken all of that stuff when usually break-ins are more focused on finding valuables and getting in and out as fast as possible, but something like this would have taken someone hours. Not to mention, they’d need a truck to haul all my shit away.
I make my way down the hallway, making sure to give them a step-by-step rundown of every little thing that’s happening before thinking better of it and switching to Facetime. “The bathroom’s been used,” I whisper.
“Ewww,” Cassie says as Jax cuts her off. “Why are you whispering?”
“What if they’re still here?”
“If you think they’re still there, then you need to leave.”
Fuck. Duh.
I stand motionless and hold my breath while I listen out for any noise, and after a good minute of listening, I decide I’m definitely alone in my apartment.
Heading down to the bedroom, I look into my closet cautiously, just in case anyone feels like jumping out at me today. “Shit, Cass. All my fucking clothes are gone.”
“Are you serious? Who the fuck steals clothes?” she grunts. “It looks like someone has literally come and moved you out. Are you sure you’ve been paying your rent properly? Perhaps you need to put in a call with your landlord.
“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, not having any better ideas as I hear Jax cursing and offering to call the police for me.
Devastation swirls within me and the need to sit on my bed and cry comes over me, but I can’t because I have no fucking bed, not even a fucking bedsheet or towel to wipe my face on. Hell, even my monster cock that was hiding under my bed is gone.
I hear Jax on the phone with the police, and I make my way back out to the living room, knowing they’ll probably be here in a few minutes. I start checking through the kitchen drawers when I distantly notice the carpets have been vacuumed. What the fuck? Am I in the wrong apartment?
I’m about to tell Cassie all about it when my gaze narrows on a note that’s been left on the counter. I scurry across the kitchen and hastily pick it up, hoping it offers some kind of explanation as to why my fucking apartment has been opened for the public to take whatever the hell they want.
Scanning over it, I see red.
Babe,
Don’t be mad but . . . I sort of moved you into my place.
