Page 80 of Made for Mayhem

Rowdy barked from down the hall, and I groaned, shoving tangled hair out of my face. The house was otherwise quiet, and I blinked against the harsh morning light streaming through my blinds.

When the doorbell rang again, I dropped my feet to the floor.

“Okay okay, I’m coming,” I sighed, already tugging on Ty’s sweatshirt as I padded toward the entryway.

A delivery driver waited on the porch, holding a clipboard and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Delivery for Daisy Winslow?”

I signed, rubbing a sleeve over my face after a night of the worst sleep I’d had in weeks. “That’s me.”

With too much pep in his step for this early in the morning, the driver jogged back to his truck, then wheeled two boxes up the walk. They were taped tight and stacked like the world’s least sentimental monument.

When the truck drove off, I stood there, the sound of the engine fading down the gravel drive while chilly air rushed around my bare legs.

Two boxes. That was it.

Two boxes to hold everything from the apartment I’d shared with Lauren.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered to myself as I inspected the boxes. Each one had D. Winslow scrawled in black ink, handwriting I didn’t recognize.

I hadn’t heard from my horrible ex-roommate since I’d left Chicago a little over a week ago, which was now hitting me in full force. Sure, I’d trusted her to get me my things like any decent human, but maybe I’d given her too much credit.

Even if whoever had packed these boxes was a Tetris master, there was no way my closet, let alone my bookshelves, would fit in two boxes. The furniture had come with the room, so I wasn’t worried about that, but where was the rest of it?

With a deep sigh that hinted at the rage bubbling up in my chest, I stormed back down the hall into my room to grab my phone.

My hands shook as I stabbed Lauren’s name, then stomped back to the foyer, slid on my shoes, and closed the front door behind me. It went to voicemail, so I hung up and dialed again. She didn’t wake until well after noon most days, but I was beyond caring if I disrupted her beauty sleep.

“Daisy?” Lauren answered after the fourth phone call. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck?” I nearly screamed into the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Where’s the rest of my stuff?”

“Did you not get your boxes?”

“I got two boxes, yes. But where’s the rest of it, Lauren?”

I ripped the tape off the first box only to find a picture frame lying on top, the glass cracked over a picture of Violet, Junie, and me.

A bitter laugh tore through me, my skin buzzing with energy.

“Your clothes were all so ratty, I told the maid to take them. It was time for a new wardrobe, Daisy. You’re welcome.”

My hands tightened on my phone, my teeth near cracking I held my jaw so tight. “You—you donated all of it?”

“No one should wear clothes that old. I did you a favor.”

My pulse hammered in my veins as I ripped open the second box, glancing inside at the throw pillows from my bed… and nothing else.

“Where are my books?”

“Daisy, calm down⁠—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! You had Daddy get me fired because you were too much of a coward to see me at any of your little events! To be reminded that you are an awful human.”

“You think I’m awful?” Lauren squawked. “You didn’t even try to pack your stuff! You just left an address and skipped town. I had to hire someone to come do it for you—which I’ll be charging you for, by the way—and had to postpone my party!”

“Because my sister died!” I screamed, sharp and broken. It was the first time I’d said those words aloud, and they ripped the last of my denial straight out of me. “She’s dead, and I can’t bring myself to go pick up her ashes, let alone breathe. But yes, tell me about how much I’ve inconvenienced you.”

“I didn’t know⁠—”