Interlude (The Snow & Winter Collection #1) - C.S. Poe Page 0,3

said, “Medicine? Food? I can pick something up and come over.”

“Oh. No, don’t be silly.”

“It’s not being silly. I’m concerned.”

I quickly turned my head and coughed—the kind where your lungs feel full of broken glass—and then wheezed into the phone, “I’m okay, really. My dad’s already been here and thoroughly babied me. And I don’t think Max has a New Year’s date, because he’s texted me, like, five times already….” I cleared my throat before adding, “Besides, you’ve been shot.”

“I’ve been shot before,” Calvin replied, quiet and solemn.

“I bet that’s not something a lot of people get to say.” Calvin didn’t respond, and I scrambled for something semi-intelligent in order to break the silence. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I know my limits.”

Plucking some lint from the blanket, I murmured, “I appreciate the offer. I’ve… er, missed you this week.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Calvin replied, and there was a smile in his words.

“It’d have been nice to ring in the new year together, don’t you think?”

Calvin blew out a breath. “I think so.”

“Rain check?”

Instead of answering, Calvin said, “I better let you go.”

“Calvin—”

“Get some rest, sweetheart.”

I screwed my eyes shut and nodded to myself. “Sure. Okay. Bye.” I tapped End, got off the couch, and fetched the NyQuil from the bedroom. After returning to the living room, I pinched my nose, knocked back the disgusting berry-flavored syrup, and waited for the acetaminophen, dextromethorphan, and red #40 to take effect.

The next time I returned to the land of the living, the front room was pitch-black and the television was a blinding beacon that sent spots swimming across my vision. I slowly sat up, wiped my face, and belatedly realized I’d been drooling.

Nice. I’d drugged myself to the gills and nearly drowned to death.

I found my glasses on the floor and my phone on the coffee table, and squinted as I tapped the home screen. Shit. It was after nine. I’d slept the entire afternoon. I tossed the phone to the cushion beside me and looked around. I wasn’t sure what’d woken me so suddenly—

A rap at the door made me jump.

“Christ.” I stood, turned on a lamp, stubbed my toe, then limped to the door. I pulled the chain lock free, twisted the deadbolt, and opened it to reveal… an empty landing. I stepped forward and craned my neck to see down the first few steps of the stairwell. “Hello?”

Nothing.

I must have still been stoned from the NyQuil.

I took a step back into the apartment and my bare foot smacked a package on the floor beside the doorframe. I crouched, knees cracking as I collected the item. It was lightweight and flat, like a sheaf of cardboard, and wrapped in Hanukkah paper, which was printed with glittery dreidels.

Across the front, in bold Sharpie, was scrawled:

Bring this to the roof.

-C

C was Calvin, right? I hadn’t seen much by way of handwriting samples from him, but I leaned toward this being a man’s penmanship, simply based on its appearance. Except, if it was from Calvin, why not wait for me to answer the door and go up to the roof together? Even more important than that—why was he skulking around my rooftop at night in the freezing cold? Had medical leave finally caused him to snap?

Brows furrowed, I glanced to my immediate right at the stairs that led to the fourth floor, which then ultimately led to the roof access. I took another wary step into my apartment, returned to the couch, and picked up my phone. I called Calvin, but after half a dozen rings, his voicemail picked up.

“Detective Calvin Winter. Please leave a message.”

I growled, hung up, and grabbed my coat and scarf from the rack beside the open door. I pulled out snow boots from the closet and shoved my bare feet into them. Pocketing my phone, keys, and grabbing the mystery gift, I left the apartment. I trudged to the fourth floor, then rounded the corner and took the final set of stairs to the roof, illuminated only by the glow of an overhead EXIT sign. The metal door screeched obnoxiously as I pushed it opened onto the wintry night. My steps on the pea gravel were momentarily drowned out when I started hacking up a lung, and by the time I’d finished, I was doubled-over, wheezing, and taking in gulps of air when I could catch my breath.

“You okay, baby?”

I turned toward that warm, deep voice and saw Calvin silhouetted by the city’s night sky, a gray,