Page 22 of Shadows in Bloom

“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…”

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