Page 71 of Loving Violet
“I want everyone to know that you’re mine,” he says, his voice low and possessive.
I laugh, gently pushing him away. “Stop acting like a caveman.”
“Here you go, Austin. I will give you free coffee if you stop the PDA,” Josy says while she hands Austin his coffee.
“No, ma’am. I will kiss this woman anytime I can. So you will have to get use to it.”
Josy sighs and responds, “Okay, then. At least I tried.”
He grins, giving me another quick peck before he heads out.
As the morning rush subsides, I focus on my work, but the memory of Austin’s lips on mine keeps pulling me away. It’s a good distraction—one that makes me smile even as I wipe down tables and restock the napkins. When it’s time to pick up Adrian, I grab my bag, head outside, and walk toward my car.
That’s when I see it, a note tucked under the windshield wiper.
For a moment, I think it’s another one of those sweet surprises Austin has been leaving for me. He’s done it before—cute notes with candy or a single flower. I always found them charming, though I never mentioned them because they felt like his private way of showing he cared.
But as I pull the paper free and read the words scrawled in harsh, angry handwriting, my stomach churns.
Why is he touching you? He better stop, because you are mine.
My heart stops, the warmth I’d felt from earlier replaced by a cold wave of dread. This isn’t Austin. There’s no way this came from him.
I grip the note tighter, my fingers trembling. A chill runs down my spine as my eyes dart around the parking lot, scanning for anyone who might be lingering. But there’s no one—just rows of parked cars and the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance.
The earlier notes had been so different. Gentle. Thoughtful. This one feels like a slap to the face. Menacing. Possessive. It’s as if whoever left it wanted to make sure I felt exposed, watched.
My breathing quickens as a thousand thoughts race through my mind. Should I panic? Report this? Am I overreacting, or is this exactly as bad as it feels?
I clutch the note, my gaze darting to the edges of the lot again, suddenly hyperaware of every shadow, every movement. Whoever left this wants me to feel afraid. And they’re succeeding.
Taking a deep breath, I crumple the note and shove it into my pocket. I can’t let this ruin my day.
As I drive to pick up my son, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me, but I refuse to let fear control me. Not now, not ever.
When I reach the school, Adrian runs up to me, his face lighting up with a smile. I hug him tightly, feeling a sense of reassurance in his innocence and joy.
“Mom, Coach Bridges gave us the schedule for the games. They start in two weeks. Here, look at this paper,” Adrian says excitedly. I take the paper from his hands and read over the days. Most of them are on Saturday but he has a few games on weekdays. “That’s so exciting. Are you ready to kick some butt?”
“Bruh, I was born ready.” We laugh together, and with the laughter, I seem to forget about the windshield note completely.
A few days later I start doing laundry when I find that note again. With everything happening with Austin, Adrian, and now Max in the mix, I completely forgot about it.
Why is he touching you? He better stop, because you are mine.
I can't shake off the eerie feeling I get when reading those words again. I haven't told anyone about the notes and the presents that have been arriving for weeks.
Initially, I thought it was Austin, but now I know it’s not him. He has no reason to leave me letters like this.So, who could it be?
I've been watching everyone around me, searching for any strange behavior. But no man, or woman, seems to treat me any differently, and I can’t pick up on any bad vibes. Still, with each day that passes, my nerves wear thin. The anxiety builds, wondering who’s behind those notes.
Today, though, I’m setting all of that aside. Noah and Esteban are finally starting work on my house, and I can’t wait to see their progress.
As I pull up to the construction site, my heart kicks up a notch with excitement. The sun’s out, lighting up the whole place. Noah, Esteban, and their crew are already busy, hauling tools and materials from the truck. They spot me and throw casual waves my way.
“Morning, Violet!” Noah calls out, his smile broad and welcoming.
“Good morning! I’m so excited to see what you guys are going to do,” I reply, walking over to them.
