MELISSA’S POV

Where the hell is my purse?

I stood in the middle of my bedroom, both hands on my hips, scanning the mess I’d just made. Drawers yanked open, clothes spilling out, my blanket tossed on the floor. It looked like a robbery had happened — except the thief was me.

“My toiletries are almost gone,” I muttered, raking my fingers through my hair. “I just need to go shopping. That’s it. One simple trip. Why is this so hard?”

I’d planned it perfectly. Wake up, ...