Page 158 of Dare To Live

“There’s no card.” She spins to face me. “Do you remember the night I fell in the cemetery and hurt my head?”

I frown, thinking back. “The night I left you alone … I was angry because I thought you were hooking up with Miles.” My reply is slow, thoughtful, as I replay the scene in my head.

“When I came back to my room, after I was released from medical, there were flowers … these flowers … waiting for me. I thought Miles had sent them.”

“But he didn’t?”

She shakes her head, her lips pressing together.

“Ari … who sent the flowers?” Even as the words leave my lips, I know the answer. My insides turn cold, my heartbeat faltering while I wait for her to reply.

“I think it’s Evan. He’s been sending me flowers every year for the past six years.”

“He’s been doing what? Did you report it to the police?”

“There’s no proof it’s him. There’s never any card or a return address, and I am never there when they’re delivered so I don’t know where they come from. There are no identifying marks on the paper.” She gathers up the flowers as she speaks, carries them across the room and dumps them in the trash can.

“You were never where? Where did the flowers get sent?” I can’t hide the concern from my voice.

She glances over at me and gives a little shrug. “My apartment. The last bouquet was sent to my workplace.”

“He knows where you live and work? Does Miles know about it?”

Her silence tells me everything. Anger stirs. “What the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“That he was safely in jail where he couldn’t touch me.”

“And how the fuck do you think he was able to send the flowers from his prison cell?”

“I didn’t think about it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Where’s your self-preservation instinct?” I snap. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I drag a hand through my hair and stride into the room. “Pack your stuff.”

“Eli—”

“No. We’ll talk about this once we’re in my room.” I’m too angry to hold a conversation with her right now.

Evan has known where she’s been living and working all these years, and she’s acting like he didn’t fucking kill two people, like receiving flowers from a jailed psychopath is normal.

“I didn’t unpack.” She takes two suitcases out of the closet.

“Great, then let’s go.” I grab the handles on the cases and drag them out of the room.

Arabella follows me at a slower pace, pausing to lock the door, then catches up to me just as I reach the door leading into the stairwell.

“Lilies were Zoey’s favorite flower.”

“I know.” My voice is grim.

“I found fresh flowers at her plaque all the time.”

“Kellan would leave them for her.”

“Have you been to the cemetery?”

“No.”

Her fingers curl around my sleeve, stopping me on the stairs. “Eli, look at me.”

---