Page 25 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

The morning moves swiftly, laughter punctuating our tasks as we bustle about, filling vases and trimming stems. I immerse myself in our shared rhythm, clinging to the solace in the laughter, but those stray thoughts still poke at the edges. Collins and his pack as well as the deaths, looming in my mind the past week. I try to keep my focus on the flowers, their colors bright and full of life, as if they might swallow my anxiety whole.

Jamie hands me a sprig of lavender. “For good luck! You’ll need it with all these orders!” He winks, and I hold it between my fingers, letting the fragrance bring me back to reality. “Think you can handle all this?”

“Just watch me!” I reply, throwing a competitive grin back at him. Inside, my mind races; what if today brings something I’m not prepared for? I can't let him see how frazzled I am, how close the edge feels. Instead, I let the flowers speak for me, filling arrangements with vibrancy, pouring my emotions into their delicate designs.

A more somber customer enters, her face lined with sorrow. I feel my heart tighten as she approaches the counter, holding back a wave of sympathy. Jamie is at her side in an instant, offering his warmth and kindness, helping her select the perfect arrangement for a memorial. I’m grateful for his ease, his natural ability to connect with others—it helps me to see the softer side of grief, reminding me that even in loss, there is beauty.

“Do you think you could add a few more lilies to that?” she asks, voice quiet, barely a whisper. I nod, stepping into her world of quiet sorrow with gentleness. As I trim the stems, I share soft words of comfort, finding my own heartache intermingling with hers. It’s a reminder that amidst my concerns, there are others navigating their own shadows, perhaps in a much darker space than I find myself.

Once the day settles into a rhythm of laughter. I feel lighter, letting the day's lightness wash over me. I watch Jamie work; how his hands move with grace and certainty as he creates arrangements that feel alive, a deft dance of color. The camaraderie between us bubbles over, a warm tide lifting my spirits even while my thoughts still cling to the deaths that have been happening and Collins and his team.

As we close up, the sun’s golden light starts to fade. Jamie stacks the last of the crates and runs his hand through his hair, his energy still high. “What a day, huh? Not too bad for a Wednesday.”

“Not at all.” I smile, though I can feel a creeping fatigue settling into my bones, as if the day had pulled on me with invisible strings, and with each tick of the clock, it tugged at the doubts, reminding me of my solitude in this busy haven.

I glance around, seeing the remnants of the day—the scattered petals, the faint scent of the honysuckle and roses that lingers around, comforting yet bittersweet. “I think I’ll stick around to finish the paperwork.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow, concern etched in his features, but I assure him I’m okay, even as my heart weighs heavily with the unsaid. “I’ll be out before dark.”

“Alright,” he concedes, though reluctance wraps around his words. “Just get home before it gets too late.”

As he walks out, I fight the loneliness creeping in as I lock the door and set the alarm system. I make my way to the back and to the small desk I keep there to do bookkeeping. I take a deep breath and start sorting through invoices, fingers moving rhythmically across the keyboard. I remind myself that I have everything under control; each keystroke is an anchor, every column of numbers a reminder of my stability. But just as I begin to find my rhythm, a sudden sound of shattering tears through the calm like a crack of thunder.

The alarm blares, a sharp sound that slices through my thoughts, sending shockwaves through my body. My heart races, pounding violently against my ribcage as the echoes of shattering glass still echoing in my ears. My breath quickens, raw panic clawing at my throat, and I instinctively jerk my head toward the back of the shop where the noise seems to emanate.

“Fuck”The words come out as a whimper, a raw plea to the universe that I barely believe myself. I don’t want to think about what this means, the stark reality pressing in around me as I hesitate, gripping the edge of the desk tightly, knuckles whitening.

I force myself to take a deep breath, but it gets caught in my throat as I summon the courage to move, heart racing like a mile a minute. My legs feel heavy, as if pulling through thick mud, yet adrenaline drives me forward, an instinctive survival response—fight or flight, but I cannot afford to run.

The shrill of the alarm blares on, a relentless scream urging me into motion, demanding I address the chaos unraveling around me. My eyes dart around the room, the vibrant colors of petals and leaves suddenly stark against the backdrop of fear that seeps in through the cracks.

Steeling myself, I tiptoe toward the source of the sound, each step taken with a mix of dread and determination. The world seems to blur into a cacophony of sound—the sharp beeping of the alarm, the fluttering of my heart, the pulse of fear resonating through me. I reach the doorway leading to the storage area, my heart pounding so loud I was afraid anyone around would be able to hear it. In that quiet chaos, I fight the urge to retreat, even as my instincts scream for safety. With trembling fingers, I push the door open, the air around me heavy with an unsettling stillness, charged and electric.

“Hello?” I call, my voice trembling, each syllable escaping my mouth like an offering to the silence. I strain to listen, desperate to hear any sign of movement—anything that can reassure me.

Panic grips my throat as I inch forward, glancing around the shadowy space filled with stacks of vases and boxes waiting for delivery. The comforting familiarity turns sinister as I scan every corner, expecting eyes to jump out from the darkness, someone lurking just beyond my line of sight.

No! I refuse to be a prisoner of my thoughts, and I swallow back the rising wave of fear, forcing myself to think logically. I can’t wait for the unknown to consume me. I need to assess the situation; I have to confront whatever this is, no matter how paralyzing the terror is creeping through my bones.

I pull my phone from my pocket, fingertips gliding over the screen as I think through my next steps, still poised between panic and resolve. The shadows loom larger than life, but I remind myself I am more than fear; I have fought through shadows before.

Should I call the police? I clutched my phone and bit my lip, before going to the number I saved into it, just in case I did have to call him to complain about his protective duty.

I took a breath and clicked“Detective”, putting the phone to my ear as the loud ringing of the phone echoed in my ear. My body tensed as the ringing kept going, and before I could say anything, I felt arms wrap around me and a loud scream leave my lips.

Chapter Twelve

“Shhh.It'sfine.”Iheard as I was turned around and looked into green eyes of of Lucas, I took a deep breath trying to stop the shaking in my hands.

"Lucas?" I gasped, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "What the hell?"

He released me, stepping back with his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"Well, you did a fantastic job of it anyway," I snapped, adrenaline making my voice sharper than intended. The alarm continued to blare, each pulse of sound like a needle to my nerves.

He grabbed the phone from my hand and hit end call before I could protest. My heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, pushing away from him, my voice stronger than I expected given how badly my hands were shaking.

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