12. Flick #2
It’s easy not to think too much about anything, which is one of the reasons I love my shifts at Knit Happens. Even though I’m on the same old island, being at work here is like taking a break from it all.
At six, we flip the sign on the front door to CLOSED, and Alexis, Maya, and Devin arrive promptly. It’s time for our weekly Chronic Pain Crafters meetup, a time when we “stitch and bitch” to the extreme.
“Okay, chocolate chip and snickerdoodle. Take your pick.” Maya passes around the tin loaded with freshly made cookies, the chocolate still melty.
She has started baking treats as a hobby and brings new ones each week for us to try.
Last week it was lavender shortbread that tasted like eating a garden.
“Fair warning—I tried a new vanilla extract and might have been heavy-handed.”
“Your heavy-handed is everyone else’s perfection,” Devin says, already on her second cookie. “Now spill, Flick. What’s going on with you and the vet?”
“We’re seeing each other.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s new. It’s casual.”
“Really?” Devin cocks an eyebrow, her knitting needles never pausing in their complex dance. “Because I heard you’ve been with him every night.”
I snort. God, you can’t hide anything on this island. It wouldn’t surprise me if my neighbors have been peeking through my windows so they can give a play-by-play account to the local newspaper.
“Yes, we’ve been together,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Still. It’s new.”
New and crazy. I’ve never gotten involved with someone this fast, and maybe I should pump the brakes. Especially since I haven’t done relationships in years, and that appears to be where Sebastian and I are headed.
But I want that, right? A relationship with him?
It’s wild, but I think I do. Nothing about him makes me want to?—
“Flick, I found your Twitch account!” Alexis beams as she knits a hat for her cousin’s baby, the yarn a soft mint green that probably costs more than my weekly grocery bill.
“Huh?” I blink at her. Wait. I haven’t told anyone except Sebastian about my Twitch account.
“You…have a Twitch account?” Hannah looks at me like I’m some sort of alien. Another secret. Another wall.
My face burns.
“Why didn’t you tell us you started one?” Devin asks, but there’s pride in her voice. “That’s brilliant. Reaching a whole new audience.”
There’s nothing accusatory about her question—they’re all being friendly—but I can nearly feel the confusion and hurt radiating off Hannah. We only cleared the air a few hours ago, and now here we are, facing yet another secret.
Another wedge I’ve put between the two of us.
I clear my throat. “I’m still experimenting. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it until I got better at lighting and being on camera, you know?”
“Girl, you could film in a cave and make it look good,” Maya says. “Your color sense is unreal.”
“I shared it to my knitting Instagram,” Alexis reveals, looking pleased with herself.
My heart does a little jump. Alexis is a food writer with a pretty substantial online following, and she also has a couple extra accounts for hobbies—knitting being one of them. She’s shared news blasts about my skein lines before, and I always see a bump in sales.
“How many followers do you have?” Devin munches on one of the cookies.
“Uh, not a lot. About a thousand.” I keep my gaze on my knitting, trying to juggle my excitement over Alexis sharing my Twitch with my guilt over not telling Hannah about the whole thing.
“I bet you have more now,” Devin says. “Check.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” I wave my hand, though I really want to do exactly that.
“Come on.” Devin pushes. “Check it.”
I pull my phone out of my bag and go to my Twitch page. The number there makes my eyes widen. “Over five thousand.”
Devin whistles, and Maya claps while my heart races. That’s a jump of four thousand followers in one day! And all thanks to Alexis sharing my page.
But then I see the recent comments. More from @JustRaveled1018. And others that seem... off. Too specific. Too knowing.
Beautiful work as always, F.
Can’t wait to see what you’re dyeing next.
That coral shade matches your complexion perfectly.
I’ve never shown my face on Twitch. Just my hands and the yarn.
“Thank you,” I say to Alexis, shoving my phone away and trying to keep my voice steady.
Next to her, Hannah is smiling, but it looks forced. Even a little pained.
I tear my gaze away and focus on my knitting, counting stitches like meditation. “Does anyone know who’s opening the new ice cream shop?”
“Some couple from Portland,” Maya supplies. “Artisanal flavors. Lavender honey, rosemary olive oil, that kind of thing.”
“Sounds pretentious,” Devin declares. “Give me chocolate or give me death.”
Our conversation turns to other things—Alexis’s latest restaurant review drama, Maya’s recent class project, Devin’s yoga classes.
But my inner monologue is a record on repeat, whispering promises of more followers, real fame in the knitting community, of more people seeing my skein lines.
Maybe one day, I won’t just be selling online.
Maybe I’ll be in major stores across the country.
I bite my bottom lip, thinking of the possibilities. The jump in followers is confirmation that I’m doing the right thing. All my work is starting to pay off.
This also means that I can’t afford to slow down. Not now, when I have some good momentum going. I need to keep creating content so that my new followers will share it with their friends and I can gain more exposure.
Which means I definitely can’t tell my friends about the pericarditis. Not now. Not ever.
There’s no slowing down for me. If I stay focused and follow my heart, it’s only up from here on out.
Between Sebastian and this new development, it feels like I’m nearly at the top of the world—and nothing could ever bring me down.
I’m still beaming an hour later when I’m at home relaxing, watching TV and petting Cat. She’s purring like a tiny motor, occasionally batting at the yarn end I’m absently waving for her. My chest twinges—just a little—but I shift position and it eases. Everything’s fine.
A knock at the door makes me jolt upright on the couch and Cat scampers off to the kitchen. I glance at the clock—just past 8pm. I’m not expecting anyone, and it’s a bit late for someone to just be stopping by.
My pulse quickens as I look through the peephole and see an innocuous looking brown box on my front step. I don’t remember ordering anything but I do order dyeing supplies frequently so maybe it’s just something I forgot about.
I open the front door and bring the box inside, setting it on the kitchen island. There’s no writing or markings of any kind on the box to give me any hints as to what is inside and my stomach twists as I realize there’s also no shipping label or return address.
I definitely didn’t order this.
Still, curiosity gets the better of me and I slice through the tape holding the box shut as carefully as I can with shaking hands.
Inside is a skein of yarn, the softest cashmere in a rich shade of teal—my favorite color.
Not just any teal, but the exact shade I use in my signature line, the one I’ve never quite been able to replicate in cashmere because the dye takes differently on that fiber.
I pick up the skein and see that there’s a note underneath it written in neat block letters:
THOUGHT THIS WOULD INSPIRE YOUR NEXT PROJECT. SEE YOU SOON.
The room feels colder all of a sudden and a chill runs down my spine as I reread the note. No signature, no clue who sent it or dropped it off. But whoever it is knows about my yarn, my color preferences, maybe even my failed attempts at dyeing cashmere this exact shade. They know too much.
As if my thoughts conjured him, my phone buzzes and Sebastian’s name flashes across the screen. Relief washes over me and I answer immediately.
“Hey, did you send me a skein of teal cashmere?” I ask before he can say anything, already knowing the answer but hoping I’m wrong.
“Uh, no. Why?” His voice shifts from confused to concerned in an instant. “Flick, what’s going on?”
“Can you come by tonight?” I say, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice. “I…I think you need to see something.”
“I’m already in my car. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he replies quickly. “Keep your doors locked. Don’t answer for anyone but me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, before hanging up.
I check all the locks, close the curtains, and sit on the couch with Cat pressed against my side. Her purring is the only sound besides my racing heartbeat. The beautiful teal skein sits on my coffee table like an accusation, and I can’t stop staring at it.
I hear Sebastian’s car pull up outside and race to the door, yanking it open.
He rushes up the walkway, eyes alert and darting around the yard as he approaches.
Just seeing him, calms some of my anxiety and when he pulls me into a tight hug, a feeling of safety and security wash over me and I feel my eyes start to burn.
“Are you okay? What’s going on?” He says, pulling back and looking into my eyes.
Instead of answering his question, I lead him into the living room and point to the coffee table, then put the note in his hand.
“This didn’t come from you or any of my friends. I sent a message through our Chronic Pain Crafters group chat while you were driving over and they all said they didn’t send it.”
His jaw tightens as he reads the note. “This isn’t random. Whoever did this knows way too much about you.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself as if that could protect me. “Yeah, it’s pretty creepy, right?”
“I know we looked at some, but we need to decide what kind of camera to get for the front door. Maybe one of those camera doorbells would be best,” he says firmly. “Back door, too, just in case.”
I nod again, not knowing what else to do.
“No more second guessing yourself on this stuff, okay?” He hugs me and I melt into him. “We’re going to figure out what’s going on.”
Something about the way he says those words with such confidence makes me believe him.
I am so thankful for this man.