“You don't understand.” I raised my face from his chest. “None of you can protect me from him. You can't fight him. He's already dead.”
* * *
“Ok.”Bobby pushed the steaming mug of tea across the table towards me. I knew without taking a sip that it would be obscenely sweet. He thought I was in shock, and maybe in a way I was. But it wasn't the kind of shock that tea would help.
Nothing and nobody could help me.
“Want to tell me what's going on with you, Gypsy? I mean I know you are into some quirky-” he paused long enough to grin, “things, but you have to know that the dead can't hurt you?”
Over his shoulder, my eyes locked on the flowers sitting on the countertop.
Any normal girl would be thrilled to be sent flowers, but not me. Flowers always meant he was coming. Soon the calls would start, and then the parcels. Later, things would be moved around my home, just enough for me to know that he had been in there.
And then there would be blood.
This time it was probably going to be my blood.
Without saying a word, I got up. Using my arm, I swept the flowers into the trash. I couldn't stand to look at them. They were just a reminder that my days were numbered.
“You don't understand, Bobby, and I can't tell you.” I sighed as I took my seat.
His eyes narrowed. “You mean you won’t tell me. There's a difference. We can’t help you unless you tell us what’s wrong, Gypsy. What dead man?”
I paused. Could I tell him? Could I be open and honest with him? More importantly, did I have a choice? I was going to need help.
“His name was Sebastian Wallis,” I said before I could stop myself.
“I'm guessing this is the man you are running from? The reason you changed your name?”
I blinked at him in surprise. We had drunk a lot of tequila the previous night, and I had been hoping he had forgotten, especially after he passed out on my couch. It seemed luck was most definitely not on my side.
“Yeah.” I sucked in a breath. It was harder than I thought it was going to be. “He was… I dated him for a while, and then things got pretty serious.” My voice shook. “I thought I was going to marry him.” Raising my eyes, I caught Bobby’s. His lips were pressed together, and I was glad he wasn't interrupting me with a million questions. If I was going to get it all out into the open, I needed to do it in a rush. Like ripping off a band aid.
“Handsome, from a good family. Everyone loved him. Everyone thought we were perfect together. Everyone but my father. It was like he saw straight through the mask Seb wore. He tried to warn me off him, but I was young and in love and thought I knew best.” Absently, I wiped a tear from my eye.
“What happened?”
Straightening my back, I felt an icy sort of calm descend over my body. “He was arrested for rape. Not me,” I added, catching Bobby’s look. “He never laid a hand on me. But after the accusations, I stuck by him, mainly because I didn’t want to believe the man I had agreed to marry could do such a thing, but then more women came forward. And their stories started to make sense... That was when I ended it. I told him I never wanted to see him again.”
“That was for the best, Gypsy, a man like that.” Bobby shook his head, his voice thick with anger. “He went to trial, yes? Was punished? Are you running because of the backlash?”
“It never made it to trial, Bobby. He kind of went off the rails, started stalking me. I had to move back into my dad’s house, took time off from my job, but he just wouldn't let it go. It got to the point that I couldn't even leave the house by myself. He was always there. Flowers one day and death threats the next.”
Bobby's eyes flickered to the trash can and then back to my face.
“He sent me this one message on Christmas Eve saying he was going to kill himself if I didn't go to see him.” I sniffed, and fat tears rolled down my cheeks. “He’d said it so many times, but that time.. Well, that time...”
“He went through with it?” Bobby whispered.
I nodded slowly. “He slit his wrists. His mother found him the next day,”
“Gypsy, you have to know that none of what he did was your fault.” Bobby's chair scraped along the tiles as he pulled himself closer to me and lifted my chin with his fingers. “It's not your fault.”
“He mentioned me in the letter, Bobby, said that he would never let me go. And he hasn't. It's been six years since he died. Six years and three name changes later and he is still coming for me. The flowers this morning were just the start.” I covered my eyes with my hands and just let the misery take me.
I couldn't do it again. Running and constantly looking over my shoulder was no way to live. I wasn't strong enough to start over, knowing without a doubt that he would find me again.
“Gypsy, they are just flowers. They’re probably not even meant for you and someone dropped them by mistake.”
