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Dax lowers his weapon-wielding arm, albeit slowly. “Do you need help?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. I think I’m at the center of some weird conspiracy. People are trying to steal my identity.”
My confession makes my heart race. This entire morning has been weird. My body feels jittery and off, and I’m starting to suspect it isn’t just the morning-after effects of Livi’s margaritas.
Dax steps toward me, placing his shoehorn weapon on the counter between us. “Are you hurt?”
I contemplate his question. “Physically, no. Emotionally…Idon’t know if I’d use the wordhurt,more like disoriented.” Panicked. Confused.
“Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up, and everything just goes wrong from the second you step out of bed?” I ask him.
At this, his eyebrows lift, and he looks more relaxed than the moment before. “Actually, yes, I can relate to that.”
“Okay, I’m having one of those days. Except things aren’t bad, they’re just weird. And I desperately need to be told that I’m not losing my fucking mind. And I know this sounds like a stupid question, but humor me. Where do I live?”
I wait for him to answer. There was a very clearOver to you, Daxon the end of that question. But his face is back to that half-confused, half-concerned look he had earlier.
Finally, he opens his mouth. “I don’t know the right way to answer that question, but I know someone who can help. She works at St. Joe’s. Awesome to talk to, and if you give me five minutes, I can call her.”
“Are you talking about Jen?”
Dax steps away as if my very normal question has tripped his weirdo alarm. “You know my sister?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course I know your sister. Petite brunette. Great sense of style. Gorgeous legs. Every time I see them, I seriously consider getting back into running. And funnily enough, I actually bumped into her last week at the pharmacy. She was shopping with your mom, who, I guess, was down for the weekend visiting.”
“You know my mom?” He’s reaching for the shoehorn again, but before he can grab it, I pick it up and throw it.
Dax looks at me, then the shoehorn, then back to me, as if he’s trying to confirm that I actually threw it.
“Focus, Dax. It’s like you’re as confused as I am this morning. Have you not had coffee?”Come to think of it, I haven’t had any either.“Maybe we should pause this conversation until I can make a run. Tall, dark roast? Or is it a grande kind of morning?”
Dax’s eyes flick from the wall to the door to the counter to me. “You know my coffee order.”
This time, I do roll my eyes. “Of course I do. I’ve watched you order at least ten thousand times.”
Dax takes a very obvious step away from me. “Listen, why don’t I make us coffee? You sit here, and I’ll be right back.”
He gestures at his stool. My hungover brain welcomes the idea that he wants me to sit down again. I work on massaging my temples while he heads toward the stockroom in the back, pulling his phone from his hip.
Not in our entire four years of friendship has Dax ever offered to make our coffee. His entire philosophy around coffee is that it’s not a beverage; it’s an experience. And part of that experience is having someone else make it. He’s acting weird. And because my morning has been completely bizarre and my inner radar is telling me something is afoot, I slip from my stool and tiptoe across the floor until I’m outside the stockroom, pressing my ear to the door like I’m Nancy fucking Drew.
“I’ve never met her before, Jen. Although she looks familiar. I think she works at that new place down the street.”
He’s on the phone. Talking about someone. I still don’t get why he’s calling his sister.
“I came downstairs, and she was sitting behind the counter. Not stealing anything. Just hanging out.”
Wait. Is he talking about me now?
“She knows shit about me,” Dax continues. “She knew that you run. Even my coffee order. I think she might be stalking me. I think she needs help.”
Heistalking about me.What the actual hell?
My throat instantly goes dry. And the low odds I gave earlier about upchucking on Dax’s floor skyrocket as my stomach completes a double back tuck.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
