Stockholm Syndrome (BWWM)

Chapter 22

I pick at the holes in my skinny jeans while Sam and I rest on my living room sofa and watch a few cops search my apartment.

"This is ridiculous." Sam mutters as a police man looks through my kitchen cabinets.

"There is nothing I can do." I say with a sigh. "Besides, you can't stop them. My job is at stake."

I think back to yesterday's events when I had to pee in a cup and give a small dose of blood. It was completely absurd, but I had to do it to prove to my employer I was as clean as they come. When Sam found out what I had to go through he went berserk. He tried to sue my workplace and the police department involved but I told him to stay out of it because it was my problem and I knew they would not find anything against me.

"Yeah, but it still doesn't stop me from wanting to hit whoever started this." He grumbles.

I run my fingers through his hair and peck his cheek. "Trust me. I want to too."

"Richard and Bryce have zero leads on who did this."

Before I can respond the sheriff with the drug dog walks down the steps from upstairs and rounds up his buddies.

"Everything is clear, so I will inform Mr. Samuels and I'll guess we'll make our way out."

"Good." Sam says as he shoots up from the couch and walks to the front door with the group of cops in tow. Once they all have exited Sam leans his head out the door and shouts after them. "My firm will be in touch!" He slams the door and turns towards me.

"Sam." I glare at him in annoyance.

"What?" He shrugs and goes into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of gin.

I hop up onto one of the bar stools and watch him down his drink. "Since that whole fiasco is over do you want to stay the night?"

"Of course baby."

I smile at his answer as he reaches for Lauren's bag of cookies that I bought a few days ago. "Can I have some?"

"Sure."

He greedily chews on the chocolate chip delight but stops himself and spits the chewed mush in the trash.

I frown. "What's wrong?"

Sam makes a screwed face as if he just sucked on a lemon and shakes his head. "There's cinnamon in those. I hate cinnamon."

My frown deepens. "No there isn't. Those are chocolate chip cookies."

"I can taste the cinnamon."

I snatch his cookie out of his hand and sniff it deeply. Sure enough there is a small hint of cinnamon and I take a small bite just to be sure. Thirty minutes later I have small hives forming on my neck.

"That bitch!" I gasp as I stare at myself in my bathroom mirror and put ointment on my allergic reaction.

"I don't understand." Sam says from behind me.

"My neighbor. She's out to get me! I don't know why and I don't even know how she knew my allergies. I knew she was a creep." I fuss.

"Wait, please slow down and explain this to me." He rests his hands on my shoulders to calm me down.

I take a deep breath. "My neighbor Lauren sold me cookies a few days ago for an organization, but turns out she put cinnamon in chocolate chip cookies and I'm allergic to cinnamon. Who puts cinnamon in chocolate chips cookies?"

Sam laughs and slowly rubs his hands up and down my arms. "I think you're overreacting. Cinnamon is a popular baking ingredient. I don't think she went through the trouble to find your medical history just to get you to have an allergic reaction."