I place her inside of her enclosure, and she hightails it up the ramp to her hammock. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, ’kay?”
I fluff my hair, swipe some gloss over my lips, before grabbing my crossbody and heading for the door. Only when I open it, there’s… a bag of takeout containers sitting on my stoop.
Did they get the wrong unit?I wonder, as I bend to inspect the package.
My stomach rumbles with the logo of my favorite Mexican restaurant, Fortuna,comes into view. “Oh, how I wish you were mine.”
It’s then I notice the note taped to the top with my name on it.
“What the fuck?” I scan the parking lot, but it’s business as usual. I freeze—but only for a moment—before grabbing the bag and hustling back inside.
“Maybe it’s for another Scarlet?” The excuse is flimsier than my mesh top.
Like a Band-Aid,I think as I tear open the envelope.
You’ve been so busy this week, I think a night in will do you good, Petal.
Why don’t you trade your boots for slippers and cozy up on the couch with these tacos? I made sure they made them just the way you like—grilled chicken with extra chicken, no lettuce, and a double order of guac.
I’m sure it’s delicious, but I bet it’d taste even better off your lips. I look forward to the day I find out, to when nights in are spent cuddled up, just the two of us.
Mark my words, Petal, you may not know who I am just yet, but I know who you are, because you were meant for me.
-Your Sweetheart
“What the fuck?” I whisper into the suddenly too-quiet space. Sweat gathers along my hairline, and tears bead along my lashes.
The room spins, and I dry heave, my heart thundering in my chest like a whole herd of spooked horses.
I stumble to the front door to lock it before forcing my trembling hands to pull the curtains shut.
“What the fuck?” My entire vocabulary’s been reduced to those three words, because, honestlywhat the fuck?
Who is sending these notes? How do they know what I eat? How do they know where I live? What I’m wearing? Why is this happening to me?
Question after questions races through my mind, as I read the note over and over again.
Without thinking, I grab my phone and dial the first person I can think of. Thankfully, he answers on the first ring. “Decided to call and make me apologize out loud?”
“Ellis,” I whimper his name, too terrified to worry about how weak I sound.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, his voice harder than I’ve ever heard it.
“I…” My voice cracks as I try to force the words out.
“You what? You’re freaking me out.”
“I got another note.” I swallow roughly and swipe at the stupid tears ruining my makeup.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Tell me more.”
I fold the paper into fours and shove it into my back pocket. “I was heading out to The Creek but there was a bag from Fortuna’s on my porch with a note taped to it.”
A broken sob slips out, and I try to cover it with a cough. “He… he knows my order. He knows my week has been crazy busy. He knows what I’m wearing. He knows where I live. Ellis, how does he know all this? It’s... it’s like he’s watching me twenty-four-seven.”
“Scarlet—” he starts.
But I cut him off. “What do I do?” My voice sounds pathetic even to my own ears. But the untamable terror running through me overrides my need to appear unflappable. “I don’t know what to do.”
