Page 12 of Minnie

The gorgon must think I’m a horrible person. No, worse than horrible. Horrendous. Atrocious. The lowest of the low. First, I was rude to Violet, and now I’m hitting on Amber’s mate. And the fact that those things are out of my control somehow only makes it worse.

“Help!” A tiny voice startles me out of my thoughts, which are a train racing toward a cliff with no brakes.

I instantly forget about my pity party for one. I spin around, searching the cafe for an animal in trouble, but I don’t see one. There shouldn’t even be one here, aside from Tiptoe, who’s safely sleeping upstairs. And this voice is different, less squeaky and far more panicked then my mouse has ever been.

“Where are you? What’s wrong?” My feelings are shouting, but I sound bored. And with Formula M in my system, blocking my full powers, I’m not even sure the poor little animal can understand me.

“I’m right here, and nothing’s wrong?” Julian phrases it as more of a question.

“Scared!” the tiny voice calls back at the same time.

Chase, who can’t hear it either, frowns at me.

A mix of emotions flows through me—fear for the animal, frustration because I’m the only one who can hear it, and embarrassment because I’m acting even weirder than usual—and Formula M sends a wave of calm coursing through me.

“It’ll be alright,” I tell the panicked creature.

Julian and Chase both frown, but the gorgon looks more curious than confused.

“Please!” A whimper sounds from the box Chase is holding.

My gaze zeroes in on the gold wrapping paper. “Open it.”

“Out,” the animal pleads.

Julian shakes his head. “We can’t unwrap it before Amber sees it.”

“It would ruin the surprise,” Chase adds.

I want to shoot both men down with a glare so fierce they wither where they stand, but I sound indifferent. “Your surprise is terrified.”

“He is?” Julian frowns.

“Are you sure?” Chase asks.

At least they have the decency to look concerned, and the gorgon finally looks like he doesn’t hate my guts. Not that it matters. Not now. Especially not when I might hate his.

I yawn. “If you’re going to surprise Amber, go. Now. You need to let him out.”

Amber’s mates exchange a glance and Chase breaks into a run with Julian on his heels. The apartment door slams upstairs and I turn to the gorgon. “Could you watch the counter?” I ask, since he’s clearly got nowhere else to be.

“I don’t work here,” he scoffs. “And I’m not watching the cafe so you can go after your precious Julian.”

I deserve that dig. I know I do. As far as the gorgon’s concerned, I’ve been hitting on my friend’s mate, openly, like I have every right to. But all I can think about is the gorgon’s snakes taking a page out of Tolkien’s books and hissing ‘my precious’ at Julian. At least Formula M and the curse have never made me do anything that bad.

“Whatever,” I tell the gorgon as I saunter to the door, heels clicking. I try to hurry, but Formula M doesn’t let me run unless I’m in a tracksuit, and even then I’m not allowed to sweat.

I flip the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turn to the gorgon. “Don’t steal anything while I’m gone.”

“I’m no thief,” the gorgon snaps, making it clear exactly what he thinks of people who steal. Even people who are left with no other choice and do it so they can feed an innocent child.

If I could scowl at him, I would. But I can’t. So I slowly walk away.

I keep urging my body to move faster so I can go upstairs and make sure the little creature is safe, but Formula M fights me with every step. Would it hold me back if it was a matter of life and death? Would it not let me run to rescue Natty if he was in trouble? What if he needs me, and I can’t save him?

Wave after wave of calm courses through me, but not enough to keep the realization at bay. It’s wrong to keep taking Formula M if it could put Natty in danger. But if I stop taking it, I won’t be able to hold down a job, or care for the boy, or hold my head up so long as I’m in Silver Springs. So where, exactly, does that leave me?

I finally reach the top of the stairs and step through the apartment door. The smell of pumpkin spice latte permeating the cafe downstairs dissipates, replaced by the delicious smell of Wes’s lunch.