Chapter 6 Violet
Violet
Bread. Eggs. Milk. Toilet paper. Chocolate. Chocolate. Hot sauce. More chocolate.
I sighed as I looked down at the pathetic shopping list I’d managed to put together at the last minute. My hands were still shaking from seeing Colt, the scent of him lingering in my memories from the hug he’d surprised me with.
I was not ready to think or confront my feelings about all that, so chocolate—copious amounts of it—were in order.
A shiver rolled through my body. That was weird.
The feeling of being watched raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
No. I’d just gotten here. Everything inside of me was hyper-aware because of what happened in New York.
But there was a tall man, standing next to the oranges, who kept looking over his shoulder at me.
I had to be overreacting. I just needed to take a breath and—
Shit. I bumped my cart into the display of Granny Smith apples.
As if that loud clang wasn’t bad enough, I watched as apple after apple came off the precisely stacked pyramid display.
Why would anyone think that was a good idea…
I looked around desperately for help, but Tall Man was nowhere to be seen.
Knowing I couldn’t just leave my apple disaster to some poor, unsuspecting teenager working late hours after school, I slowly got down, using the edge of my cart for some stability, and started rolling apples back towards the display.
I grimaced, holding my belly as the baby moved, who apparently was not appreciating the way I was twisting.
“Whoa,” a deep voice boomed over me, chuckling. “What happened here?”
Heat filled my face as the stranger got down, slowly rolling apples the same way I was.
“My clumsiness got the better of me,” I said as I leaned back, stretching so the baby would settle.
It gave me a chance to look at the person working beside me.
Clean shaven. Kind eyes that kept glancing my way, but didn’t give off the same creepy vibes as the man who couldn’t stop looking at my belly.
No. There was something almost like concern in this man’s eyes.
“Gotcha. Texas isn’t known for snow, so I guess this apple-anche is the closest thing to winter excitement we’re going to see around here.”
God, he was charming. I could feel my face flooding with heat.
The stranger got up, stacking the apples back onto the display.
“All better,” he said as the last one went into place.
He turned towards me. I was useless, still down on the floor, contemplating just how ungraceful I was about to look when I hefted myself up.
“Do you need a hand?” he asked.
“Oh no. Just taking a minute to run a calculation about the mass, volume, and velocity needed to escape one’s own gravitational pull,” I joked.
“Those were a lot of fancy words. Are you a physicist?”
“Nope. Just a pregnant lady who sometimes has to decide if it’s worth the hassle of getting off the couch,” I laughed.
“Well, I’m definitely not a physicist, or an expectant mom, but two masses have to be better than one, in these situations.
Can I help you?” The kind man held out his hand to me.
I nodded, pretty sure I was only accepting because I could not, for the life of me, think of any other way I was going to be able to get back up.
He did most of the work, pulling me up like it was nothing.
“Thank you.” I laughed softly as I let go of his hands, brushing my own over my belly before turning towards my cart. “And thank you for helping me clean up the runaway apples. I fear this is a story I’ll tell my little one every time he comes shopping with me.”
“It was no problem. You have a good rest of your shopping trip. Maybe just skip the canned soup aisle, though. I saw a display of baked beans that was already teetering precariously the other day.”
“Noted. Thank you again.” I waved as I pushed my cart as fast as I could manage. I was about to skip everything and just run to my car, but I was genuinely hungry and knew, for my sake and the baby’s, that I needed to get actual food to eat.
Turning the cart down the cereal aisle, I stopped. Tall Man was there, his hands around a box of Bran Flakes. It took one second for him to turn and face me, his eyes raking down my body again. I squared my shoulders.
Just get to the oatmeal. You’ll be fine.
He was staring at me, and I just stared right back. I wasn’t about to let a stranger make me feel uncomfortable. It was almost as if he was waiting to see if I’d back down first, but as I got closer, he simply went back to looking at the box of cereal in his hands.
Maybe I looked like someone he knew. Maybe he just had no manners. Whatever the reason was, I didn’t care. Grabbing the first box of maple brown sugar oatmeal I could get my hands on, I hightailed it out of the aisle.
It took me another ten minutes of wandering the store to feel like I had an okay selection of groceries.
After I stopped into the Sheriff’s department tomorrow—the one in Bell Ridge, and not here in Silver Springs where I knew I was likely to run into Colt—my plans were to hide out at the house until I could gather up enough courage to talk to him.
Now that I was back, he deserved to know the truth.
“Ma’am.” I turned, looking at the guy behind me in line. My apple-disaster rescuer was behind me in line.
“Sorry. I don’t have any apples with me,” I joked. “I hear there’s a lovely selection in the fruit department, though some may be a little bruised for an unknown reason.”
He laughed as his eyes dropped to my belly, where I was rubbing my hand over what I was almost certain was the baby’s foot pushing out at me.
“Can I help you to your car?” he asked.
“Oh, I…uh. No, that’s so kind of you, but I’ve got everything under control.”
“That’ll be $112.85, dear,” the cashier announced as she placed the last of my ice cream into a bag and handed them over the partition to me.
“Sure thing.” I placed the ice cream into my cart and held my credit card over the receiver, waiting for the all clear from her side. As soon as I saw the receipt start to print, I began to push my cart out of the way.
“My mama would actually throttle me if I didn’t help,” the man behind me offered. “Besides, it’s getting dark. Our town is pretty sleepy, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”
Sweat pricked on the small of my back. He was just being friendly. He was just trying to look after a woman who was clearly very pregnant. One who had admitted to being clumsy earlier, and that he’d seen first-hand. I didn’t need to fear him…
“That’s very sweet, but I’m okay.”
“Oh, honey.” The cashier smiled at me, clearly understanding my hesitancy wasn’t just about being polite or independent. “You’re safe with him, he’s a deputy. And I know his mama—she would actually throttle him.”
“Thanks, Ms. Carolyn.” She scanned his Coke and a sub from the deli.
The tips of his ears turned red as he smiled at me. A deputy. He worked with Colt. The apprehension in my muscles drained away.
“Well, I can’t be responsible for your mom being mad at you. I’d actually love the help. Thank you.”
“I’m Nate, by the way. Nate Jones. Or Jonesy, if you’re my friend,” he informed me as we walked out of the store.
I smiled, a little hesitant to relinquish control of my shopping cart to him.
He swooped in very smoothly and smiled as he took over.
Probably a good thing as I felt my belly tighten.
Braxton Hicks contractions were becoming a part of my nighttime routine lately.
They were completely normal—at least that’s what my midwife had said when I asked about the risks of traveling so far this late in my pregnancy.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nate. Thank you again for helping me out to my car. It does make me feel a little bit like I’m eighty, but I’ll let it slide because I am actually very tired and appreciate the help.”
“Dang. I was hoping you’d call me Jonesy. I feel like helping someone through an apple containment breach and subsequent cleanup at least puts us in the friends category.”
“Friends, then,” I agreed.
“So…” He raised his eyebrows as I pulled my keys out, clicking the little button that released the back hatch on my car.
“Oh,” I laughed, “I’m Violet.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Violet, even if you did put me straight to work from the very first minute of our friendship.
” He winked at me. Oh God. I could feel the heat flooding my face.
He had to be at least ten years younger than me, not to mention the fact that he kept looking at my very, very pregnant belly.
We got to my car and Nate made quick work of transferring my groceries for me. I stood like an awkward potato, just watching until he was all done.
“Thank you again so much for the save with the apples and the grocery bags.” I held out my hand to him.
Nate smiled, looking down at my hand with a chuckle before he shook it. “No problem, Violet. Get home safe, okay?”
“You got it.”
He pushed the cart away from my car and I got in the driver’s seat, locking the door behind me quickly. I watched as he kept an eye on my car until I backed out and left.
With the last of the groceries put away, I made my way to the kitchen table where I’d left my laptop sitting open.
God, I was exhausted. But Ryan was meant to email me about the contract extension I was on and a potential new project.
There was no way my mind would let me rest until I checked to see if that had come in.
There was one unread email in my inbox, but it wasn’t from my business manager. My throat ached and I tried to swallow past the pain as I clicked into the message.
Callie,
I know you think you can run and I won’t be able to find you.
That’s why you haven’t been back to your apartment in days.
That’s why you left behind your cell phone on the table in the kitchen, isn’t it?
You think this will stop me? You think you’ll just go away, and I’ll stop trying to make you see that it’s always been you and me?
I’d cover the whole world to find you again.
For just one more chance at making you mine.
Because you are mine. And one day, you’ll see that. I’ll make you see that.
Stay safe. I’m coming for you, baby girl.
I slammed my laptop shut. The nausea crashed into me so hard I nearly fell out of my chair as I tried to scramble to the sink. The baby rolled as I dry heaved over and over. Thankfully, nothing came up.
Why had I thought it would stop just because I’d left?
I would close down that email account. Ryan could handle all my correspondence from now on, or he would just hire someone else to. My only priority was getting that sick person out of my life.
And he could be anyone. He could be anywhere.
He was in my apartment.
Grabbing a glass from the cupboard above the sink, I filled it with tap water, watching the bubbles swirl as it filled higher and higher.
It’s true, I left my last cell phone in my apartment on the table before I left, because I thought that would be safe.
If he’d been tracking me through it, watching my movements somehow, I didn’t want to lead him straight here to Texas.
No. The only people who knew I was here would never hurt me. I got away. What someone sent to me on the internet couldn’t hurt me. He couldn’t hurt me. I’d gotten away.