Chapter 8
Carrie
I was surrounded by books, hundreds of them, stacked taller than me, and I was in heaven.
It had been almost a week since I’d found that note taped to the front door of my new home. I battled back and forth with myself for hours that night on whether I should tell Michael about it. In the end, I decided against it for many reasons.
One, whoever wrote that letter was just trying to harass me. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve done so already.
Was I scared?
No, not of death. I was scared of all the life I would miss. Life was scarier than death, in my opinion. I’d seen enough death in my short life, and it made me realize how much I was missing.
Two, if I had brought that letter to Michael’s attention, then all the work I put into starting over would’ve been for nothing. If that letter was my past catching up to me, then I didn’t want my future to collide with the nightmares of my past.
So I would keep them separate, and if my past finally did catch up to me, then so be it.
For right now, I just wanted to focus on me. How was I supposed to live in the moment if I was always looking in the rear-view mirror? What kind of life was that?
“Cardinal?” Margo called from somewhere outside the fort of books I’d managed to create around me. I’d been in the back room all morning, taking inventory for Sarah. I’d organized the books by genre and ended up making a circle around me. By the time I was nearly done, I was surrounded on all sides.
“Yes?” I asked, standing and spinning in a slow circle.
“Are you planning on shacking up in here?” she asked as I met her eyes over the top row.
It wasn’t a bad idea, though I’d grown fond of Margie’s key-lime pie and I doubted Rossy, Margo, or Sarah would be up to the task of bringing me a slice every day.
I looked down to the clipboard in my hands, scribbling down the last of the inventory. “Perhaps.”
I heard my grumpy co-worker mumble something under her breath, and a few seconds later, the book stack in front of me was moving. Once the stack was out of the way, she shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a nut?”
I nodded. “Yeah, the doctors at the nut house,” I told her with a straight face.
Her eyes widened a fraction before a beautiful, raspy laugh left her as she tossed her head back, giving me a full view of her butterfly tattoo on her neck. I watched in awe. I’d been here for over a week and had yet to make Margo laugh.
As her laughter died and her eyes met mine once more, she gave me a nod of approval. “Glad to see the fairy princess girl likes dark humor. That was a good one.”
I gave her a small smile and didn’t disclose the fact that I wasn’t joking.
“Anyways, Rossy asked if you could come man the checkout counter for a bit. He has to run an errand,” Margo finally said.
Once we were back in the front, the smell of coffee hit me, and I was ready for my third cup. I shot Margo a look. “Since I made you laugh, do you think I could get—”
“—another lavender latte?” she cut me off, smirking.
My mouth watered. “Please?”
“You know there are other things on the menu, right?”
I blinked. “Why would I want to try something else when I’ve already found the perfect drink? What would be the point in that?”
Margo rolled her eyes and waved me off. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”
We split up, her going toward the coffee counter and me toward the checkout counter. Once I was there, I went directly to the to-do list Sarah had given me last week. She told me I didn’t have to rush through it, but what else was I going to do? Stare at the wall? I didn’t need this job, but it was better than just sitting in Blue Beauty all day. No matter how much I loved that house, the last thing my mental health needed was cabin fever. I’d spent a year in the same fucking room, and I vowed I would never spend more than three days inside.
This, of course, was easier said than done.
Fighting to better my mental health wasn’t just a battle: it was an all-out war. I didn’t have thousands of soldiers behind me ready to face the army of darkness and pain on the other side of the field. It was just me, and that had to be enough.
I was enough.
I was worthy and deserving of a good life, despite all the horror I’d been through.
I was worthy of being happy. To do that, I just had to try a little harder than some people, and that was okay. There was nothing wrong with having scars underneath the surface. Just because no one could see them didn’t mean I wasn’t brave.
The bell above the door jingled, and I blinked, snapping out of it. Without looking up from the list, I greeted the customer. “Welcome to Rossy’s Books!”
The customer said nothing; then again, most of the time they never did. Sarah said I didn’t have to greet the customers as they came in, but Rossy found it endearing. Over the next few minutes, I stayed behind the checkout counter and unloaded the cute bookmarks Sarah ordered on Monday, setting them up in the display case at the end of the counter.
As I pulled out a new stack, taking in the details of the castle printed on it, I felt eyes on me. I looked up, surprised to find no one standing in front of me. I tilted my head back to look upstairs in the children’s section, frowning when I found no one there either. I looked over to the coffee bar, seeing the same two people who had been here since this morning still sipping on their coffee and working. Margo was finishing up my coffee, not paying any attention to me, so I moved my eyes over to the stacks.
My eyes landed on someone standing directly between to the two bookshelves in the middle of the store. They had their back to me now, head bent, reading the back of a novel they’d plucked from the shelf. Shaking it off, I went back to the bookmarks, and when Margo brought me my latte in my favorite mug, she leaned over the counter.
“There’s a woman who’s been staring at you,” she whispered.
Immediately, my eyes snapped up the the center aisle, but no one was there. “Who?” I asked, looking back to Margo.
She dropped her eyes to her finger, pointing towards the window seats on the far side of the store, across from the coffee counter. Slowly, I looked over and stiffened when my eyes collided with another pair. The woman was skinny—almost too skinny—and her brown hair was pin straight, almost lifeless, lacking shine. She was wearing a plain black t-shirt that was way too big on her, black capris, and flip-flops. She didn’t have a cup of coffee or even a book. She was just staring at me.
“I didn’t see her before,” I murmured, not looking away from her. I couldn’t tell if she was lost in a comfortable stare or if she was trying to make my head explode with some sort of freak mind power.
Margo cleared her throat loudly. “Is there something we can help you with, ma’am?” she called out. I looked around the store to see everyone in it looking our way.
“Margo,” I quietly scolded.
She didn’t pay any attention to me, only focusing on the woman. When I looked back over, the woman’s upper lip was curled in a sneer, but she didn’t respond.
“Hey,” Margo clipped, her voice hard. “I’m talking to you. Quit looking at her and look at me.” The woman’s eyes snapped over to Margo, and my co-worker took a step closer, her body tight. “I asked you a fucking question.”
“Margo,” I hissed.
The bell above the door jingled, and I heard a sweet British voice. “What’s going on, Margo?”
We both turned to find Rossy standing there, holding some to-go bags from Margie’s. My heart warmed. That man didn’t have an errand to run; he went to get us lunch.
“This woman keeps staring at Carrie,” Margo explained, looking back to the stranger. “You either buy something or get the hell out.”
Rossy looked to the woman, and I watched in real time as the gentle, kind man I’d been getting to know transformed into something else entirely. He didn’t ask for an explanation or try to belittle Margo. No, he stepped forward, putting a hand on Margo’s shoulder for a moment as he passed her.
“You need to leave,” he said to the woman, his voice stern.
Suddenly, I liked Rossy even more, and I didn’t think that was possible.
I thought she would put up a fight, but when she didn’t, I took a step back, getting closer to the store phone just in case. She took her time standing, keeping her cold gaze on Rossy. He didn’t move until she stood right in front of him, stepping to the side and gesturing to the door. “On your way, miss,” he ordered, his voice sharp.
She didn’t give Margo the time of day, and when she was in front of the door, Rossy right behind her, she cocked her head toward me. “ Bitch ,” she sneered.
I jerked back slightly, the hate in her voice slamming into me. What the hell?
Then, she was gone, but the uneasy feeling she left hovered around me like smoke. A second later, I felt hands on my shoulders, and I was being turned around to face a very concerned Margo. “You okay?” she asked.
I blinked. “More stunned than anything. What the heck was that about?”
“Have you seen that woman before?” Rossy asked, standing on the other side of counter now, concern creasing his brows.
I shook my head. “No. Is she a local?” I asked.
“I’ve never seen her in here before,” Margo said softly, looking to Rossy.
He wasn’t looking at any of us. Instead, his warm eyes were focused on the windows.
“Is she still out there?” I asked in a rush, looking over my shoulder. I looked up and down the street, but she was out of sight.
“No, she got into a car as soon as she stepped outside,” he said, looking at me. "A very expensive looking car.”
Before I could think about it too much, Rossy turned to the customers, apologizing for the disruption. Once the customers were back to doing what they were doing, he turned back to us and began untying the to-go bags. “I doubt we’ll see her again, my darlings,” he assured, back to his normal self.
He handed me a to-go box and then Margo a to-go cup of soup. “Enjoy ladies. I’ll be in my office for the duration of the afternoon,” he said before walking away.
“Holy fuck,” Margo breathed from beside me, holding her soup to her middle.
“What?” I asked, looking at her profile.
“Rossy never goes into his office,” she whispered, meeting my eyes.
“Really?”
She nodded. “I’ve worked here for years, Cardinal. Trust me when I say that man hates his office. That’s why he’s always out here.”
I inhaled a deep breath, deciding to forget the last ten minutes of my life. It was time to focus on more important things—like the food Rossy got me from Marie’s. I opened the box and couldn’t help but do a little dance as my eyes landed on the sandwich and fries.
As I quietly ate my lunch behind the counter, I watched the customers stroll through the stacks, order coffee, and enjoy themselves.
When a new customer came in with a laptop bag, I watched as he walked over to the window seat and set his stuff down before going to order some coffee.
That’s when it happened; fear slithered underneath my skirt and up my legs alongside the feeling of dread, working in a tandem as they moved up to wrap around my neck. As I looked back to where the woman had once sat, the note from last week was the only thing on my mind, and by the time my shift ended, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.