Chapter 5

5

FIONA

I stare dazedly down at the bouquet in front of me. The guy who delivered them is saying something to me. His lips are moving in my peripheral, but I don't hear a word as I watch the bright white and dark purple calla lilies like they might reach out and fucking choke me.

"Yeah, thanks." A hand clamps around my shoulder, and I jerk back on a gasp. I slam into the counter, knocking bottles over. A few clatter to the floor. Something glass shatters.

My eyes never leave those fucking flowers, colors webbed and blurred.

A face comes into view, and I blink, refocusing. Sebastian's tanned face is creased, lips downturned as he moves side to side. I follow the movement, my body recognizing him before my brain does.

"Hey. Hey, Fi, can you hear me?" He waves his hand slowly, and once he's certain I'm following, he slowly brings it closer until he's touching my face. I flinch but don't pull away as he drags his thumb back and forth over my cheek.

His smile is soft but reassuring, and after a few minutes, I feel the heavy weight of my heart beat slow. "Sorry," I croak. He shakes his head, smile never faltering.

"Nah, don't be. Are you okay, though?"

"I'm fine," I defend, even if I know it's futile.

"You're not, but that's okay; we can go with that. Wanna tell me what just happened? I signed for those flowers for you." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. I follow, eyes back on that fucking bouquet.

This can't be happening again. It can't be. I was so fucking careful.

My eyes fill with tears at the promise of what's to come.

I have to leave.

And I can't tell Jamie. Or Seb. Or fucking Jaxon and Leo.

I have to disappear—to keep them safe.

"Fuck," I breathe out, hating how much it hurts. How attached I've gotten to these people when I never really meant to.

And Jamie…

White flashes in front of my eyes. I blink a few times, clearing the haze. Seb's waving something in front of me. "You gonna read this or what? I wanna know who they're from."

"What?" I ask, shaking my head to clear the fog. I have to fucking focus. I can't lose my shit this time.

"The note. That came with the flowers."

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Each word is stilted, like the promise of a note doesn't swarm my insides with the poison it promises. I take it from Seb with a shaking hand, ignoring his inquisitive stare as I peel open the small envelope.

Fiona,

This is cheesy, but I figured maybe I have a right to be. I loved the other night, and I want to see you again. Please say yes.

(This is my way of asking you out, just so we're clear.)

Sorry if you don't like the flowers, I don't know your favorite. Another thing for me to learn.

—Jamie

"Holy fuck." The relief that blooms inside my chest is instant. I choke out a sob, my hand flying to my mouth to catch it, but it spills out regardless. Seb's on me in a second.

"What's wrong? Who do I need to kill?"

I meet his hazel eyes with tears in my own. "No. No, this is good. It's, uh, they're from Jamie," I whisper. I never thought I could see flowers as anything but devastating again, but… "Jamie got me flowers. She wants to see me again."

Seb's face lights up as he whoops loudly. "Fuck yeah." I laugh along with him, dragging my fingers under my eyes, trying not to smear my makeup any more than it already is.

"Yeah, I didn't think she was gonna ask me, but she did." I hesitantly reach for the flowers, stroking a finger over one of the buttery-soft petals. "These are lovely."

"Well…" he prompts.

"What?"

"Are you going to call her or what? I'm on the edge of my seat here!" I snort, shaking my head.

"Of course, you are," I mutter, but I pull my phone out and hit call on Jamie's number. We've texted a few times since she left the other morning, but I haven't heard her voice since then.

"H-hey, Fiona." There's a creak of a chair, followed by the sound of muffled footsteps, then the line goes quiet with static.

"Yes."

There's a pause. "Uh. Yes…?"

"To you asking me out. I hope you're prepared to woo me."

"Well, I've set a low bar. Can't really fuck this up, can I?"

My face hurts from the force of my smile. "That's the spirit."

Jamie huffs, and the line goes quiet for a minute. "I have to work this weekend, but what about next?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yes." I don't even know if I have to work, but fuck it. Seb will cover me if I do.

I wish I could see Jamie's smile, but I settle for the sound of her breath. "All right… good. I, uh, I've gotta get back to work." A pause. An intake of breath. "But I'll text you?"

"You better." Softer this time, I say, "Bye, Jamie."

"Bye, Fiona."

I slip my phone back into my pocket, smiling softly. Seb's leaning against the counter, head cocked to the side with his bottom lip jutted out. "Awe, that was so cute," he sings.

I swat his arm. "Fuck off, Seb."

He laughs as he straightens. "Gotta get my fun in somewhere. Everyone around here is so dull."

"Jaxon isn't." My eyes flicker toward Wayne walking in from the back.

"Hmm, no. He's fun—and he helps me give Leo shit, which is always entertaining, but I need to spice it up!"

"You really are the puppy they claim you to be," I mutter, feigning exasperation.

"Hey!" He whirls around, finger pointed at me. "I resent that!"

"Why? It's true," Wayne says from directly behind Seb, who gasps as he whirls around. His eyes are comically wide as he steps to the side to let Wayne through. Their arms brush, and I've never seen someone look so fucking love-sick.

When Wayne's fully distracted by a patron across the bar, I lean into Seb. "You need to get your shit together." And then, I grab the clear vase holding my flowers and turn to leave, inhaling their scent as I walk.

"He's just so… unbothered, " Seb mutters, looking offended and adorably confused. My eyes flick between the both of them before settling on Sebastian. He looks so pathetic, it's adorable.

"Yeah, he is."

A scoff. "Thank you, Fiona!" he shouts at my back. "Very fucking helpful."

I throw my hand in the air. "Welcome!"

T he car ride home is precarious as I try not to spill the vase, but I somehow manage to keep it upright, my smile never faltering, even as every muscle aches from months of disuse.

Balancing the vase in the crook of my arm, I nudge the door closed with my hip, my eyes on the horizon, watching the sky bleed into various shades of reddish-pinks and purples. The clouds are thick and folded with many different edges spread across the sky. The darkness beneath them adds a new hue to the colors, and it's so breathtaking, I stop to take a picture.

My chest aches with elation—or something I assume must be akin to that. I've never experienced it before, but I imagine that's what this is. And it's… strange. To unwittingly feel this way when I know so much is still up in the air.

But it's almost been a year. When is the right time to let some of it go?

I'll never be able to forget… couldn't even if I wanted to—and I do—but surely there comes a point when living on the edge and in fear has its breaking point. When one can no longer simply survive.

Being alone… denying myself of the most basic human intimacies has taken more of a toll than I realized, now that I have Jamie. And it's all happened so quickly between—a deep dive right over the end. But I don't want to slow down, and I don't think she does either.

It feels good to forget. To let myself fall without fearing what lies on the ground below.

Because Jamie's there, right alongside me.

My footsteps slow as I near my door, eyes catching on the single, white calla lily lying atop my door mat. I roll my eyes and huff a laugh as I maneuver the vase around to pull out my phone again.

The ringing is loud in my ear as I tuck my phone against my shoulder to find my house key. After turning the deadbolt, I find the key for the doorknob and slip it into the keyhole.

"Fiona," Jamie answers, and I can hear the smile in her voice when she says my name. I curl my lips over my teeth, fighting back the sting of unexpected tears.

"Hey, little one," I murmur, blinking rapidly as I stare at the dark brown wood of my door.

"Please," she mutters softly. "I'm at work."

I sniffle. "Oh? Does that turn you on, Jamie?"

"Shut up." There's a pause. "Not that I'm complaining, but why are you calling me again so soon?"

"It doesn't suffice to say I just missed the sound of your voice?" I tell her as I bend down, setting the vase on the floor to grab the single lily. There's a notecard taped to the step, which draws my brows together.

"I mean…" Jamie clears her throat. "Is that why?"

"Yes, but no," I answer as I peel the tape off the cardstock. "I wanted to tell you that you didn't have to flower bomb me at work and at home." I flip the card open.

"At home?" Her tone pitches higher. "I didn't…" Jamie's voice fades out as my eyes take in the sickeningly poised handwriting I had hoped I would never see again.

I didn't know you liked calla lilies, but I never did get the chance to ask your favorite. I could've gotten them for you, if you would've told me. I want to get you all of your favorite things.

Did you even like my flowers, or do you only prefer hers?

I don't like seeing you with her. I don't like it at all.

I miss you, baby. Fiona.

My Fiona, tell me you miss me, too.

This note is just as discordant as all the rest were. And every word sends a new, sharp, jagged piece of ice through my heart. The flower slips through my grasp, but the note is stuck to my fingertips, the etches of my DNA staining the cardstock in a sweaty shade of gray.

"Fiona!" My name is screamed in an echo, and I jolt at the volume, even from a distance. I hate my name. I hate it so much again.

"Pick up your phone!" I blink down at the carpet, through the clear glass of the vase, green stems blurred in the water. "If you can hear me, baby, I'm on my way!"

The thought of her coming here—coming anywhere near… him… makes me sick. "No!" I scream as I lunge for my discarded phone. My eyes roll back in pain as I smack it against the side of my face and scramble to my feet.

"No. Don't," I interrupt her, shaking my head profusely.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

"Don't come here. Don't come anywhere near me. You have to stay away."

"Fiona." Her voice is a balmy breeze on a hot summer day, and I hate the way it makes me cry. I don't want to cry. I don't want to hurt. I just want to be numb so I can leave. Before he comes back.

He's probably still here.

He's always been watching.

"Fuck, I was so fucking stupid." I catch my bottom lip to keep it from trembling as I yank my key out of the door and sprint down the hall for the staircase.

"You need to talk to me, Fi. Right now. I need to know what's happening."

"I can't, Jamie. Fuck. I'm—" I choke on a sob. My palm slams against my sternum hard enough to ache, but I still can't catch my breath. "I'm so sorry."

"No. No, none of that. I can hear you running. Don't run, Fiona. " I burst through the main doors, sight set on my shitty black Toyota.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I repeat again and again as I jump in and peel out of the lot, eyes wide as I stare into the rearview mirror. A car blares its horn as I swerve in front of it. I gasp and jerk the wheel, nearly colliding with the curb. "Fuck!" I scream, angrily swiping the back of my hand over my eyes.

"Come to me, Fiona. I'm at work. Come see me. Now. We can figure this out." My body aches to melt into her calm. But I can't.

"He's gonna follow me. He'll hurt you. I can't. "

"Who's he? "

My head whips back and forth so fast, my hair slaps my face. "No one. Fuckfuckfuck, " I mutter to myself over and over, slamming the heel of my palm against the steering wheel.

"Fiona. Come to me. Now. I can help you." I drop my head to my shoulder as the tears spill between my parted lips.

"No one can help me, Jamie."

"I can. I promise you, I will. "

My throat is cinched closed from her promise. Knowing it's false but falling for it anyway. Needing her—and needing to not be alone. Not anymore.

"You can't get hurt…"

"I won't, Fiona. I'll be okay, and so will you. Please tell me where you're at." The cars in my peripheral are all different, but nothing stands out. I turn on my blinker, waiting to turn left. A large, white truck pulls up behind me, but the windshield is too dark to see through. My heart lurches into my throat as my eyes stare into my rearview mirror, flicking back and forth between that and the side mirror.

The green arrow illuminates the traffic light, so I press on the gas, turning before immediately making another left, then a right. When the truck doesn't follow after my initial left, my shoulders drop in relief.

"Fiona, can you hear me? Fuck!"

"Yeah," I croak. "I'm here."

"Where are you?"

I glance around, blinking rapidly, trying to get my eyes to focus. "Uh… Hyland Avenue."

"Okay. Okay, that's good. You know where I work, right?"

"Yeah. I know where it is," I rasp, focusing on her utter calm.

I'm going to be sick.

I can't fucking do this again.

"Come to me, Fiona. Let me help you."

"Okay," I whisper on a shaky exhale. "Okay…"

I don't remember the drive. I don't even remember parking. But then, my door is flung open, and Jamie is hauling me into her arms. I collapse against her, arms draping across her shoulders as I sob directly into her neck.

My breath is hot, making my tears sticky, but her palm skating down my spine grounds me.

"Fuck, I'm so relieved you're here." She presses her lips to my head. "You scared me."

"I'm scared," I stutter, loathe to admit it.

"I know. I know," Jamie says, so softly.

"I—" I choke on the words. Jamie hushes me as she pets me, from my head, down to my tailbone and back up.

"Come on. Let's go inside." I sniffle when she releases me, suddenly feeling so much colder as she reaches in my car to turn it off and to grab my purse that fell to the floorboard. She loops her arm around my waist, urging me to walk alongside her.

My eyes burn with the need to blink, but I can't. The parking lot is huge, filled with cars, all unsuspecting and empty—but I know that doesn't mean a fucking thing.

Not anymore.

The second we're inside and through the security located at the front, I slump against the wall around the corner. Jamie presses against my left side, her hand never once leaving my body, even as my muscles twitch and recoil, overstimulated and aching.

"Fiona…"

I turn and slam my mouth to hers. She gasps, frozen with surprise as I kiss her with every bit of fear I possess. "Fi…" she mutters against my lips, but I shake my head, eyes scrunched tight.

"Please, Jamie," I beg of her. For the first time in my life, I beg.

In an instant, she gives in. Her lips are soft, and even in the extreme of the moment, she still lets me tug and guide her exactly where and how I want her.

I press even harder against her mouth at the sensation of my tears spreading between us, making my face wet and sticky and itchy. Jamie tries to pull away, but I clutch her hips desperately. "Just… need this. Please."

She exhales into my mouth before tugging my bottom lip between her teeth gently. She sucks softly, pulling a whimper from my throat, and her fingers clasp the nape of my neck.

Pulling away far too soon, she presses one last kiss to my mouth before dropping our foreheads together. My chest is heaving, every breath raspy and erratic. Jamie is breathless too, but she's in much more control of it—and I envy her for it.

But having her at my side, in this building, eases a sliver of terror as I spill one of my many secrets. Rolling my forehead against hers, I sigh and reach for her hand. As I twine our fingers, I stare down at them. Her pale, unmarked skin against my tanned, tattooed fingers.

"Back in Le Grande… there was this… guy."

"I thought you were a lesbian?" Jamie asks hesitantly. And I surprisingly find it in me to huff a short laugh.

"I am. Wasn't like that. He was a bit… obsessed, I guess. The cops didn't do anything, said not to worry, it would pass, so I ignored it…" My throat closes off, and as my chest contracts as I hold back a sob.

"I shouldn't have ignored it."

"Fuck." She pulls back and clamps her hands on my shoulders, beautiful, hazel eyes looking anguished. I hate that it's my fault. "Fuck, Fiona." Her forehead is lined with worry. "Are you saying you have a stalker? "

I nod slowly, somehow coming to the realization for the first time myself. He really is a… a stalker.

My stalker.

"And… he, uh." Fuck. "His-his name?—"

"What's his name, Fiona?" A moment passes. Then another. "Fiona, this is important. What's his name?"

" Lars, " I choke, hating that the first time I finally fucking say it is to Jamie. "His name is Lars."

To be continued…