Chapter Six #2
It was there last night when Crew left. And she’d noticed it again when she stood at the bathroom window that morning, watering her plant babies.
She knew every vehicle in her neighborhood and had never seen this one until yesterday.
Her pulse thudded in her ears as she stood on her small landing, keys clutched in her fist. The truck’s windows were tinted, and she couldn’t see anyone inside. But it was there. Right there.
She forced herself to walk to her car, her legs stiff and jerky. As she unlocked the door, she shot another glance at the truck. It didn’t move. No one got out.
Maybe a neighbor had a visitor. Maybe she was being paranoid.
Chris’s voice whispered through her mind. You’re always overreacting. Making something out of nothing.
She shook her head and hurried to her car. She wasn’t overreacting. She was being cautious. There was a difference.
After starting the engine, she pulled out of the driveway and headed to the greenhouse to pick up supplies for a side job in town. But her mind kept spinning back to the truck.
She was sure it was there all night.
She routed her brain to her landscaping job today. She’d be creating a small perennial garden for a couple who just moved to Willowbrook.
But those good thoughts silenced as she remembered the truck and the broom laying out where it wasn’t supposed to be. The coiled hose, and the bag of plant food in a place she hadn’t left it.
Her phone sat in the cupholder, and she kept glancing at it, waiting for it to buzz.
Willow had promised to get back to her about the preliminary design she’d submitted for the Black Heart Ranch. The thought of seeing her ideas come to life—of creating something beautiful and functional for people who deserved it—made her chest swell with pride.
She was halfway to the greenhouse when her phone buzzed.
She nearly fumbled the phone as she snatched it up. She pulled into a parking lot and read the message.
Fern! I LOVE your design! I’m on board. Send me the invoice and order everything. Let’s make this happen!
A squeal burst from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Excitement bubbled through her veins, making her hands shake as she typed out a response.
Thank you so much! I’ll get everything ordered ASAP!
She set the phone down and pressed her palms to her cheeks, grinning so wide her face hurt. This was happening. She was doing this.
By the time she reached the greenhouse to gather her supplies for the landscaping job, her earlier unease had faded. Marla chattered to her about the garden plan as Fern loaded her cart with everything she needed, and topped it off with cheerful annuals she planned to use in the client’s planters.
When she got to the job site, she was practically floating. She parked near the side entrance and grabbed the first load of supplies from her trunk.
“Fern!”
She turned to see Felicity hurrying across the parking lot, her blonde waves bouncing with every step. Felicity owned the bookstore in town, and Fern had done a small planter for the front porch of her home.
“Hey, Felicity!” Fern set down the bag of soil and wiped her hands on her jeans.
Felicity stopped in front of her, slightly breathless. “I’m so glad I caught you. I wanted to talk to you about the planter you made for my front porch.”
Fern’s stomach sank. “Oh? Was there a problem?”
“Problem? No! It’s perfect. Everyone who comes to the house comments on it.
Even the postman.” Felicity’s smile widened.
“I was hoping you could make me a custom one. Something bigger for the front of the bookshop. And…” She paused, her eyes sparkling.
“Could you change out the flowers every season? Like, summer blooms now, then maybe autumn mums, winter greens and flowers in the spring?”
Fern’s breath caught. “You want me to do that?”
“If you’re interested. I’d pay you for the initial planter and then a recurring fee for the seasonal updates.”
Recurring income. A steady stream of work. The words echoed in Fern’s mind, and her heart soared.
“Yes!” The word burst out of her before she could temper her excitement. “I mean, yes, I’d love to do that for you.”
Felicity laughed and pulled her into a quick hug. “Perfect! I’ll email you the size of the pot I’m thinking, and we can go from there.”
As Felicity walked away, Fern stood there, clutching her bag of soil, a smile stretching across her face. This was more than a side job now. This was a burgeoning business.
She returned to her vehicle for more supplies and stopped in her tracks, her gaze snagging on a truck parked down the street.
Dark blue. Tinted windows.
Her breath hitched, and her fingers tightened around her keys. It was the same truck. The one from outside her apartment.
She stood frozen, staring at it. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the chirp of birds in the nearby trees.
It’s not Chris’s truck. He drives a black sedan.
But that didn’t stop cold dread from seeping into her chest.
She squinted, trying to see who was behind the wheel but couldn’t make out more than a shadowy figure.
She forced herself to move, grabbing the flats of plants from her trunk. As she carried them to the side yard, she kept glancing at the truck. It didn’t move. No one got out.
She set the plants down and returned for the hostas and butterfly bushes. That was when she saw it.
A small potted succulent sat in the middle of the other plants. It wasn’t one she’d bought. She would have remembered—it was a unique variety with thick, spiky leaves edged in deep purple.
Her hand trembled as she picked it up, turning it over. No tag. No receipt tucked in the soil. Unless her boss accidentally placed the succulent on her cart, the pot had appeared out of nowhere.
Her gaze shot to the truck. The engine started, a low rumble that made her jump. She watched, rooted to the spot, as the truck pulled away from the curb and rolled down the street.
She stared at the rear, noting that it had a Utah plate.
She stared after it until it disappeared around the corner. Her breaths came fast and shallow, and she clutched the succulent to her chest.
Not Chris. Not his truck. Not his plates.
But someone had been watching her.
Someone left this plant.
She needed to get out of here. Now.
Trembling harder, she loaded everything back into her car. She didn’t want to go home. The thought of being alone in her apartment made her stomach churn.
The ranch. She could go to the ranch.
As she drove, she scrambled for an excuse. She couldn’t just show up and say she was scared, that she thought someone was following her. That sounded crazy. Chris always said she was crazy.
She’d tell Willow she needed to double-check a few things for the garden design.
By the time she pulled up to the Black Heart Ranch, her hands had stopped shaking, but the tight knot in her chest remained. She buzzed at the gate, and they admitted her.
Willow met her as she parked, a bright smile on her beautiful face. “Fern! I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
Fern climbed out, forcing a smile that probably wobbled as much as her empty stomach. “I wanted to double-check a few measurements. Make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
Willow’s brow furrowed, her sharp gaze sweeping over Fern’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter.
Willow didn’t seem convinced. She glanced toward the house, then back at Fern. “Come on. Let’s get you some water.”
As they walked toward the house, Willow’s pace slowed. “Fern, what’s really going on?”
The concern in Willow’s voice cracked something inside her. Fern stopped walking and wrapped her arms around herself. “There was a truck. Outside my apartment last night and this morning too. And then at my job site.” She swallowed. “I think someone’s following me.”
Willow’s expression hardened. Just then, a guy in a Black Heart Ranch T-shirt and work pants walked out of the garage. She looked over her shoulder and called out to him. “Get Crew! Tell him to meet us in the security office.”
The guy waved a hand and took off at a jog.
Fern’s heart lurched. She opened her mouth, but what was there to say?
Willow slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the side entrance of the house.
They’d barely reached the door when she turned to see Crew striding toward them, his long legs eating up the distance. His gaze locked on her, and the intensity in his eyes made her breath hitch.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was low, steady.
“Fern might be in trouble,” Willow quickly explained, and Crew’s jaw tightened. “We need to talk to my brothers.”
Fern felt every thump of Crew’s boots on the floor as Willow urged her toward a spacious room with a long table and a dozen or so chairs. Big screens covered one wall of the security office.
Her mind reeled. Maybe she was wrong about the truck. Maybe she was imagining things.
Maybe she should stop listening to her ex’s voice in her head.
Willow pulled out a chair and urged Fern to sit. A bottle of water appeared in front of her. Crew dropped to the seat across from her.
“Talk to me, Fern.” The tendon in the crease of his jaw bunched under the force of him grinding his teeth. “Did you see something on your security cameras?”
Willow looked between them. “There are security cameras?”
“I installed a doorbell cam at her place. We can check the footage.”
Fern nodded, relief flooding through her. “I-I didn’t think to check the footage. It’s all new to me.” She bowed her head. “Something isn’t right. I don’t think I’m imagining this.”
Crew brushed his hand over her arm. “Then we’ll treat it like a pattern until we prove otherwise.”
Her throat thickened.
He held out his hand. “Can I see your phone?”
She fumbled in her back pocket for it, and Crew came around to lean over her as she opened the app, his solid presence a comfort.
Willow peered over her other shoulder.
The footage showed the truck parked outside her apartment. It had been there all night. The timestamps confirmed it.