Page 8 of EverGreene
Ever
The moment I stepped foot from the driver’s seat of my 4Runner and the soles of my shoes touched the pea gravel driveway, I felt his presence. He was here. Somewhere. Whether I wanted him to be or not, he was always here.
A small part of me found it comforting, knowing he was close by, now that it had been a year and he still hadn’t proven himself to be dangerous to me yet. It was reassuring, like he was some deranged guardian angel. It was a fucked-up notion, considering my past. But the malevolence I’d felt then was absent now.
A year ago, when I first felt someone watching me from the streets, I’d been terrified and called the police, who responded two hours later to the two-bedroom bungalow I’d been renting. The officer, a middle-aged man who’d been in law enforcement long enough to look bored when responding to a call, did a quick search outside the perimeter of the house, which consisted of him swinging a small Maglite around like apendulum and triumphantly declaring my space to be serial killer-free before departing. He’d most likely chalked up my fear to some sort of female hysteria, blaming my uterus for my not wanting to be murdered in my sleep by yet another man society had let slip through the cracks.
Stones crunched under my feet as I approached my front porch, where I noticed a small package sitting by the door. Mystery packages had become as commonplace as sensing my stalker lurking in the shadows. What would it be this time? What seemingly innocuous token that was something I actually needed had he sent me today?
Heart pounding, I glanced behind my shoulder, noticing nothing but an empty street, and then scooped up the package with one hand while unlocking the front door with the other and quickly scooting inside the house, making sure to lock the door. Once inside, I tossed the curiously light box on the kitchen table and called Katy.
“Hello, you lucky bitch, you,” she answered.
“You’re still salty that you didn’t hook up with Kylo Ren, I see.”
“More like while my bff was getting her insides rearranged in my guest bedroom, I went to bed alone and unsatisfied.”
“Gee, welcome to the club.” I propped the phone down on the table and sent a video call request to Katy, watching as her image popped up on my screen, messy bun and all.
“Look, it was my party, and I can literally cry if I want to. Although I am happy for you. Cheers to dusting off your vagina.” She lifted a glass of water, bringing it to her lips to take a sip.
“So, I received another package today.”
“Another one? From your stalker? Jesus, Ever. You get railed by some masked God at my party over the weekend, and today your stalker sends you a gift. What is this life of yours?”
“You’re not supposed to want a stalker, Katy.” I snatched a pair of scissors from my kitchen drawer and sat down at the table, resting the package in my lap.
“All of the dark romance books I’ve read have led me to believe otherwise.”
“Yeah, well, that’s fiction, not real life.”
“True, but sometimes fiction can be rooted in reality.”
“My life has already been stranger than fiction.” I snorted, piercing the packing tape with the blade of the scissors. “At this point, I’d prefer to embrace normalcy.”
“You should start doing stalker unboxing videos on TikTok.” Katy laughed. “I think they would go viral. Maybe you’d find out who the mystery man is.”
“Honestly, I don’t know if I want to know at this point. As long as it isn’t—” I paused, allowing the anxiety that inherently washed over me every time I thought about Travis to pass.
“Ever, are you okay?” Katy asked, her tone more serious. “He’s not been released, has he?”
“No.” My voice came out as more of a whisper, and I shook my head like an Etch A Sketch to erase the images of the man from my former life. “I checked this morning. He’s still incarcerated. They would have called me if he’d been released.”
“And you’re one-hundred percent certain he isn’t the one sending these packages to you?”
“Yes. He can’t. I’ve called Victim Services, and they assured me it isn’t him.”
Katy nodded. “Okay, well, as long as the gifts aren’t creepy, then I say roll with it.”
My eyes traveled to the journal I’d received a month ago. It had been the last gift he’d sent me until now. Before that, I’d unboxed a Keurig, a couple of romance novels I’d had on my TBR, a roadside emergency kit, a pair of winter boots, bath oils,and the pepper spray that hung on the keychain attached to my house key, just to name a few of the items.
“I mean, I would kind of call knowing my exact shoe size creepy, but I guess—” I gasped, springing to my feet from the chair, my heart pounding as the box fell from my knees to the floor.
“Oh my God, Ever. What is it? What happened?”
Body shaking and my ears beginning to ring, I crouched down to the floor to retrieve the contents of the package: a lone peacock feather. Hand trembling, I picked the feather up by the quill.
Fuck. Could it be?
