Page 72 of Brazen Criminals

Carrie raises a brow. “Not me, you. Your boyfriend just dropped these off for you.”

“My boyfriend?”

“Yeah, nice guy, red-brown hair, big smile?”

Time stops as I look at the flowers. Bryce was here.

I scan the inside of the store. Not seeing him, I rush to the door and stick my head out. At the end of the block, I catch sight of Bryce, his hand in a brace as he raises it to me, not moving closer, but not leaving.

I back into the store, shaking.

“Clara, what’s wrong?” Carrie asks.

“Is there a card?” I ask, my voice sounding hollow to my ears.

“Yeah, here,” Carrie says, handing me a small card.

Baby—I love you and I forgive you. Come home. You know we’re perfect together. I want you by my side, taking the world by storm. Together, we’re unstoppable. Don’t make me come get you. -B

He tacks on a winky face with its tongue sticking out, like that last bit is a joke.

I grasp the card in my hands, ready to tear it into tiny bits, but remember the trial tomorrow, and tuck it into my pocket instead, my hands shaking.

“Did he say anything?” I ask.

Carrie comes around the counter—I’m too afraid to turn away from the windows. I don’t want Bryce to sneak up on me.

“Yeah. He said you guys had a fight, that he wanted to surprise you. Clara, they’re just flowers.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “No, they’re a threat.”

“Explain it to me, Clara.”

I lift my arm in the sling, and as long as I move it slowly, it only hurts a bit. “He did this.”

“He looked beat up too, Clara. What kind of fight did you guys have?”

I huff. “A friend stepped in after Bryce hurt me. We’re broken up, we’ve been broken up for almost a month, and he’s not getting it. He’s started stalking me. I’m going to court tomorrow to officially post a restraining order.”

“Well shit.”

We stand there in front of the counter, neither of us moving.

Luckily, we were quiet, so the lurkers in the coffee shop haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Carrie clears her throat. “If you want to leave early, I get it. I’ll toss the flowers.”

“I need the money,” I say, my hunger beating my pride. “I’ll need a picture of the flowers for court. Can you see if he’s still out there? He was at the end of the street.”

I head over to the counter, forcing myself to pull out my phone and snap a picture of the bouquet. I’m not letting him ruin flowers for me. I won’t allow it. Unfortunately, red roses and white lilies are now my least favorite combo.

Carrie comes back in. “He took off when I went out,” she says, picking up a rag and wiping down the counter. “I’m sorry, Clara. This is bullshit.”

I nod, walking to the espresso maker and idly playing with the steam wand. The fear and anger war in my chest, and I don’t know which one will win. I’m sick of being sad, and I’m getting sick of being scared, too. What happens when I run out of patience with my anger?

“Why don’t you go to the back and pull things for today’s order? Jen always forgets to move the old stuff to the front.”

“Got it.”

Safe in the back room, I send a group text asking for a pickup from work. I’m too afraid to walk five fucking blocks by myself. Fuck you, Bryce.

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