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“Don’t say diner,” Marci whispers. “I’m having a panic attack about the Heartstopper, even with Greer in charge.”
“It’s doing great,” I say.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’ll text you about it,” I say, as I come up the stairs and stop on the grating. My stomach drops.
There’s a dusty pink rose resting against my door. “I’ll talk to you later. I can’t wait until you guys are back.”
“Love you,” Marci says.
I hang up without replying and crouch down in front of the rose. My heart sputters in my chest as I lift it from where it was placed. There’s no card, but this is… It’s got to be him.It’s not Savage, right? No way.
It’s Franklin.
Why would he do this, even after Cash warned him off?
I don’t understand it. I stare at the rose, and the soft click and whine of something mechanical catches my attention. It came from above my head, and I search the eaves of the building for what it was. My gaze lands on a distant and tiny red blinking light.
What on?—?
The red light is attached to a black box that’s seated against the side of the building. And it has a tiny lens. A lens that is focused on me. It’s so small that had I not heard the noise, I wouldn’t have realized it was there.
My breaths come in gasps, and I drop the rose and insert the keys into my front door. I burst through into my apartment and shut the door behind me, then lock it.
Relax. Breathe.
But I can’t.
This isn’t the first inexplicable flower from my stalker. And the camera? That is brand new, and incredibly disturbing. I pull my phone out of my jeans, shaking.
I need you to come over here, please. I’m really afraid.
SAVAGE
On my way.
That’s all, and it brings me so much comfort, my shoulders ease. I pace back and forth between the coffee table and my sofa, trying to work this out in my mind.
Franklin has sent me how many flowers now?
There was that bouquet, the white one, and then this pink rose, and the worst part is, that rose was sent after Cash talked to Franklin about leaving me alone. And I haven’t received any texts from him either. What the hell is going on? And the camera? He set up a camera?
I pace back and forth for half an hour. Waiting for him.
Savage’s knock on my door sends me scattering toward it. “Carter?” I whisper.
“It’s me.” His reply is in that rich, comforting rumble.
I unlock the door to admit him, but freeze as he steps through it, holding the discarded pink flower. He holds it out to me.
“What are you?—?”
“It’s for you,” he says.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem, wouldn’t you say? I thought Cash got rid of him?”
“Wait, what?”
