4. Ellis
FOUR
ELLIS
Whenever I get too amped up—I run.
Stressed—I run.
Angry, frustrated, scared, sad, you name it—I run.
These days, I’m all of the above, and right about now, the sound of my shoes slapping against the pavement in time with the music blaring through my earbuds is the only thing keeping me sane.
It’s been a more than a year since I walked away from the Lake Fortune Police Department. Sixty some odd weeks since I watched the life drain out of my best friend’s monster of a father. Nearly five hundred days since I lied and told my former employer that his death was a suicide.
There’s not a damn thing I’d do differently either. Hell, Rand honestly deserved far worse than he got. And yet, the events of that night fucking haunt me.
The helplessness I felt. Since then, I’m just… drifting. No direction, no purpose, and it sucks because I want purpose. I want to help people. To protect them. To make the world a better place.
During my last therapy session, Beck asked if I regretted stepping back from the line of duty, and the answer is unequivocally, no. I don’t regret it. I want to help people without all the red tape. I just don’t know how.
And so, I run.
Usually I’m a trail guy, but today I’m running through town. Sometimes I forget how quaint it is, with the historic brick buildings, blooming flowers, and cobbled sidewalks.
I’m about five miles in when a familiar head of brown hair catches my eye. I’m tempted to turn the other way and pretend I don’t see her. But her mother steps out behind her and spots me immediately.
“Oh, Ellis, honey!”
That has me stopping in my tracks.
“Mom,” Scarlet hisses, glaring at what can only be described as the future version of Scarlet. Their similarities are uncanny, well, looks-wise that is. Where Stacey is soft and sweet, Scarlet is harsh and bitter.
It's a shame she didn’t get her mom’s personality. Maybe then I could tolerate more than five minutes in her presence.
“Good morning, ladies,” I murmur, lifting my shirt and shamelessly flashing my abs as I wipe the sweat from my face.
“We were just talking about you.” Stacey says, blatantly checking me out over the top of her sunglasses. Scarlet, on the other hand, is busy trying to convince herself I don’t exist.
“Oh, were you now?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Nope. She’s mistaken.” Scarlet looks like she wishes the sidewalk would open up and swallow her whole. “We absolutely were not talking about you.”
I lift my brows in amusement, wondering exactly what was said.
“Ignore her.” Stacey’s tone is the perfect mix of scolding and indulgent. “I was just telling Scarlet—”
“She was just telling me bye. Love you, Mama. Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe.”
Stacey huffs and rolls her eyes, her amusement and love for her daughter clear. “Love you, too, Sweetpea. Ellis, why don’t you be a dear and walk Scarlet to her car?”
“Pretty sure I can get there on my own. I’m literally half a block away.” She has her hands of her hips, all attitude. She kind of reminds me of a rain-soaked kitten—pissed off and pitiful all at once.
“A lot can happen in half a block,” Stacey chides, and I have to roll my lips inward to keep from laughing.
I rest my hand over my heart. “I’ll make sure she gets there safely. You have my word.”
Scarlet’s mom practically swoons as she reaches out to pat my cheek. “Such a good boy.”
“Bye, Mama.”
I cut my eyes to Scarlet, silently signaling for her to cut her shit.
But in true Stacey fashion, she simply rolls her eyes and huffs out an amused laugh. “I’ll take lots of pictures. Love you.”
“All right, hurry it up, I don’t have all day,” I say once her mom's out of sight… and earshot.
She rolls her pretty, dark eyes. “You don't have to walk me to my car. I assure you, I can manage all on my own.”
I smirk, knowing my next words are going to get under her skin. “Your mama wasn't wrong. A lot can happen in half a block. Plus, I gave her my word.”
“Yeah, ’cause your word means so much.”
I bristle. “The fuck? My word does mean a lot.”
“Right.” She nods, running her hands through her long hair.
“I may be a lot of things, Princess, but I'm not a fucking liar.”
She regards me for a moment and shrugs. “Okay, Ellis, whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”
She turns and sets off toward her car, and I fall into step next to her. “You know, not everything has to be a fight between us,” I tell her.
She snorts. “Sure.” She glances my way from the side of her eyes. “If you really feel that way, stop picking fights with me about every little thing.”
“Right, because it’s always me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Not always.” She smirks. “Just ninety percent of the time.”
“You’re such a fucking pain,” I mutter.
“And proud of it.”
I swallow back any retort, determined to escort her to her car so I can get back to my run. Except when her car comes into view, she freezes, a small gasp escaping her glossy, pink lips.
“What?” I ask, instantly on high alert.
“Are those…” She trails off squinting into the distance. “Flowers?”
There’s something off about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I grab her hand and tug her behind me, not hating the way her soft skin feels against mine—not that I’d ever admit that out lout.
Sure enough, when we get to her car, there's a bouquet of pink roses on her windshield.
“Huh.” She stares at the flowers like they’re a ticking time bomb on the verge of exploding. “I wonder if there's a note.”
“Do flowers usually come with one?” I ask. I’ve only ever sent my mother flowers, and obviously I include one to her. But I have no clue if it is expected.
“Typically.”
“So go check.” But she doesn’t move. “Damn, Scarlet, I have shit to do.”
“I didn’t ask you to be here, you know?”
“They’re just flowers.” I stalk forward and grab the cellophane wrapped bundle. Sure enough, there’s a card tucked into the blooms. I tug it out and pass it hey way. “Here, your note, Princess.”
Her hand shakes as she takes it and I can’t help but roll my eyes. I’ve never seen someone so dramatic in my entire life. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. What’s it say?”
“It’s… they’re from him.”
“Him who, Scarlet? I can’t read your mind, you know.”
“Um… it’s nothing.” She slips the note into her back pocket and snatches the flowers from me, holding them against her chest, trying to act unbothered, but the way her hands are shaking, tell me everything I need to know. “Th-thanks for, um, for walking me to my car.”
Scarlet’s shady on a good day, but right about now, she may as well be a hundred-year-old oak. Consider my curiosity piqued.
Before I can think better of it, I step into her, invading her space as I cage her against the driver’s side of her car. “What did it say?” I demand, trying—and failing—to ignore the way she feels pressed against me.
“N-n-nothing,” she stutters, clearly struggling with the bullshit she’s trying to spit out. “I promise.”
“Such a fucking liar.” I reach around and shove my hand into her back pocket, retrieving the note.
She fights against me, trying to shove out of my hold. “What in the hell, Ellis?”
Was your breakfast delicious, Petal? I long for the day I’m seated at your side. I know your mother will love me. How could she not when all I want to do is care for you?
I bet the only thing sweeter than your coffee is you. What I wouldn't give to taste it straight from your lips. Enjoy your day and know I'm thinking of you. Always.
I saw these flowers after picking up your bill. The color is a perfect match for your lips, pink and lush.
Until next time.
-Your Sweetheart
“Who the fuck is this from?” My question comes out more like a growl. What kind of normal guy says shit like this? It’s so far beyond creepy, we might as well be traipsing through a fucking haunted forest.
“I… um.” She hesitates, and I swear to god, I can all but see the red flags waving in the wind. Most women are all giddy when they get flowers, but Scarlet’s as far from giddy as you can get. If anything, she seems… alarmed.
Which has me feeling some kind of way. “Who?” I ask again, tipping her chin up so her eyes are on mine.
“I don’t know who they’re from,” she whispers, trying to look away, but I don’t let her.
“Explain,” I demand, because something weird is going on, and I am going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.
When she still says nothing, I press harder. “Who the fuck calls you Petal? Who is your sweetheart? How long have you been getting notes like this? Scar, I’ve got a shit ton of questions and you’re not going anywhere until I have answers.”
“I don’t know, Ellis.” She answers anyway, fury and fear warring for dominance as she stomps her foot.
“And you’re not concerned enough to, I don’t know, maybe try to figure it out?”
“Yes, because finding out the identity of my… I don’t know… secret admirer is as easy as clicking my heels together three times. Silly me.”
“I swear to god,” I pinch the bridge of my nose and force myself to take a calming breath. “You are…”
“You can just leave,” Scarlet hisses, ducking under my hold. “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Never stopped you before,” I mutter. “But seriously, Scarlet. This shit is alarming. Is this the first note?”
“No.” Somehow, that one, single word manages to weigh me down like an anchor around my neck.
“How many?”
She shrugs. “A few.”
“How many is—have you told anyone?”
“Just you.”
“Okay.” I process that I’m the only one who knows about this—not her mom, not Nora, me. “I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“If it happens again, tell me.”
“Sure,” she agrees easily. Too easily.
“I’m not fucking around, Princess. A note, flowers, candy, someone looks at you too long, call me. Promise. Promise me right now.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I promise. Can I please go home now?”
I step away from her car, putting some much needed space between us. “Please do.”
She unlocks her car and tosses the bouquet unceremoniously onto her passenger seat before sliding in behind the wheel.
I nudge her door shut as she cranks the engine and proceeds to whip out of her parking spot like a bat out of hell—fitting since I’m damn near certain that’s where she came from.
I work through some stretches, trying to simultaneously cool down the torrent of thoughts rushing through me and warm my muscles back up.
But something doesn’t feel right. Time damn near crawls to a stop as a feeling of cold dread settles over me.
“Where the fuck are you?” I hiss, as every hair on my body stands on end. “And why the fuck are you watching me?” I glance around, scanning the immediate area for a threat, but there’s nothing.
After a few more minutes, when no one pops out and yells gotcha, I force myself to resume my run, more than ready to put this whole clusterfuck behind me.
Usually running empties my mind, but now, every step launches a new question—all of them involving the last person I want to worry about.
I’m finally back in the zone when I slam into a wall.
“You again,” said wall, which is actually a man, rumbles as papers scatter to the ground between us.
I glance up, surprised to see the behemoth from The Creek last night. “Silas, right?”
He squats to gather the papers. “In the flesh.”
“Shit, let me help you.” I kneel and grab a page, skimming over it. It’s a help wanted flyer for a security agency. “What’s this about?”
“New business. Security. Looking to hire.”
“What kind of security?”
“The private kind.” He crosses his arms and stares me down as I grab the last few sheets.
“Helpful, man.” I hand him the papers.
“Why all the questions? You interested?”
“I might be. Wanna tell me a little more about it?”
“Step inside, and we can talk.” He pivots, heading into the old hardware store that’s sat empty for years.
I clock the business name on the door as we enter—Guardians of Fortune.
“We do private security—events, protection detail, and more.”
My lips lift into a grin. This gig sounds right up my alley. Maybe things are looking up, after all.