“Fine. It was nice having somebody think about me like that. Even if it was anonymous.”
Her expression softened. “Friend, you’re allowed to like being cared for. My question is… what are you gonna do when you find out who it is?”
The question hit too close because I had been avoiding the answer for days.
“I don’t know. I need to figure out who it is first. What if it’s a man shaped like a question mark? Or one of them dudes who wear Ramen Noodle outfits?”
“I oughta slap the shit outta you,” she said, laughing.
Joking was easier than telling the truth. Joking was easier than saying out loud how the sunflowers had warmed something in me. Tessa was getting on my nerves, but her intuition was clocking me hard. I did need answers. For her. For myself. Because one thing I wasn’t about to do was end up emotionally invested in a damn phantom or worse, a serial killer.
She nudged me again. “Halo. My mind hasn’t changed. And lucky for you, I don’t mind repeating myself. This is DaVinci Bryns.”
“I’m sick of you,” I muttered. “And it’s nobody. I got ghosted by a ghost, remember?”
“Well, he’s not Joe Blow. He’s a professional athlete. He could actually be busy.”
“Not you being team him when you don’t know that man from a can of paint. You sound as delusional as whoever’s doing all this.”
She waved me off and rolled her eyes.
“Are you okay, though? That fall was rough.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m more pissed about my damn skate.”
“Well, maybe your littlewhatchamacallitwill send you some new ones.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I can’t.” She shrugged with a laugh. “Soak that hip tonight. We're not spring chickens anymore.”
We wrapped up our conversation, and by the time I walked to my car, my limp was proof she was right. My hip was throbbing, and my mood was shot, but losing my skates hurt more. When I slid into my Stinger, I did what I always did when I needed to clear my head—I blasted music. I turned the volume up until Cardi B shook the windshield, rapping along like the words could keep me from spiraling.
Get money, go hard, damn fuckin’ right/Stunting on these bitches out of mothafuckin’ spite…
The lyrics sank into me, blending with the city lights flickering across my windshield while Brixxi was panting in the back. I turned right onto Oak, and that uneasy thrum came back—the one that felt like eyes on me, even though every time I looked in the mirror, the street was empty except for one car sitting two lengths behind, moving whenever I moved.
I told myself I was being paranoid. But deep down, I knew better. Somebody had been watching me for weeks now. Not threatening exactly, but... present. The gifts, the attention to detail, now this car that turned when I turned, stopped when I stopped.
I’d been a firefighter for too long to ignore my instincts. Whoever it was better hope their intentions were good, because I wasn’t some helpless woman in a Lifetime movie. I kept a taser on me, and I wasn’t afraid to use it.
By the time I parked in my spot, my phone lit up with my father’s name across the screen. That alone softened something in me I’d been holding tight all night. Daddy didn’t call often, not because he didn’t love me, but because some part of him never stepped out of the grave they’d put my mother in.
I hit answer immediately.
“Daddy, hey,” I said, letting my voice lift.
“How’d tonight go?”
I smiled as his voice came through warm, familiar, worn around the edges.
“We won, but I tore my favorite skates.” I sighed heavily. “Busted the plate straight down the middle.”
“Ahh, Lolo, don’t worry about it. I’ll send you some,” he said. It was automatic. A reflex. His way of fixing anything that evensoundedlike his baby might be hurting.
“No, Daddy. It’s fine. I’ve got time before the next game. How are you?” I tried to steady my tone, but it came out more hopeful than I meant.
He hesitated, just a beat, but I felt it in my bones. When my mother passed, I thought grief was going to kill him too. Some days, I still wonder if it did, just slower. The man I knew came back in fragments, piece by stubborn piece, but there were parts of him that never returned. Parts that still lived with her. Parts that I had to respect were only reserved for her.
