Page 10

CHAPTER 9

T RINA

“Nice flowers,” Jack says when he walks into our shared office at the Fire Station and notices the bouquet of red roses I’ve placed off to the side on a filing cabinet. All I can manage in reply is a grunt, afraid if I try to speak words, they’ll come out harsh.

It’s not his fault his twin is a jackass who can’t listen, so I don’t want to take my anger out on him.

It was a quiet twenty-four hours for my shift, so reporting to Jack only takes about five minutes. When we’re done, I say goodbye to him, grab the flowers, and head to my car.

I start the car and pull out my phone and text Ben.

Me: Are you still home?

Ben: Yes. Why?

Me: Don’t leave. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Ben: Could you be a little less… bossy?

Me: Piss off. Don’t leave.

Ben: Wow, I can’t wait until you get here (note sarcasm).

When I pull out of the station parking lot, it only takes me five minutes to get to my house and run in to grab the cards from the prior bouquets. From there, I spend the additional ten-minute drive to Ben’s place, feeding my anger.

It’s bad enough that I’ve spent way too much of my time over the last two weeks thinking about how good he was with the kids at Annie and Jack’s party, which inevitably leads my mind down the path of thinking what a great dad he’ll probably make someday. That pisses me off because I want the family, the kids, two dogs… the whole thing. I’m probably not going to get it at this point and Ben will end up marrying some woman and have gorgeous babies with them and be a damn good father. Just the thought of that grates on my nerves.

To further add to my bad mood, yesterday was thirty days since the incident in Las Vegas and the online portal now shows that Ben and I applied for and receive a marriage license on that day in March. However, it still shows as “pending” status under “date filed.” So, it’s looking more and more likely that we got married, but I potentially have to wait another month to find out for sure.

To say I’m feeling a bit out of control is an understatement.

Especially since I made it clear Ben needed to stop sending me flowers and, yet again, I received these roses at work yesterday. That makes four weeks in a row, and I’ve had it. This is one thing I can control and if Ben thinks he’s going to disregard my wishes, he’s got another thing coming.

When I pull into Ben’s driveway, I grab the roses off the passenger side floor and climb out of the car, slamming my door behind me. I practically stomp to his door, and I pound the side of my fist into the solid piece of wood, ignoring the perfectly good doorbell.

Ben opens the door, and I don’t give him a chance to say anything before I shove the vase with the flowers into his chest.

“Enough! I told you to stop, and I meant it.” I practically spit the words at him and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What—”

I don’t let him get past that first word before I pull the cards from my pocket and throw them onto the concrete porch. “Stop sending me flowers! Especially at work.”

I whip around so quickly that I almost lose my balance in my race to get back to my vehicle.

“Trina, wait!”

I ignore him.

My fingers are on the handle, about to open my car door when Ben, now standing at the front passenger side of my car, says something that stops me in my tracks.

“I haven’t sent you any flowers.”

My eyes dart to his. “What?”

“They’re not from me.” What did he just say? My heart skips a beat, then pounds in my chest. “So, tell me who else would send you flowers.”

Shit. I cannot let him read those cards.

He must notice my eyes glance over at the porch—where the cards are still on the ground—and see me move because he takes off for the porch as well.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he says as he gets to the porch first and scoops the cards up before heading inside. He leaves the roses outside, where he must have set them before he followed me to the car.

I follow him inside, even though I’m not invited.

“Give them to me. If they’re not from you, it’s none of your concern.”

He’s holding the cards high enough that it’s unlikely I’ll be able to grab them from his hand, but when it’s clear that he’s going to read them, I try anyway. And fail.

Ben clears his throat before reading the first card. “ I can’t stop thinking about you. ” He rolls his eyes. “Very original. Let’s see if the next one is any better. I keep dreaming about you. Maybe it’s a sign we should spend time together. ”

He lets those two cards drop to the floor, his eyes blazing with anger. My heart pounds since I remember what the last two say, and if Ben isn’t the one sending me these flowers, I really don’t want him to read the words. Especially from the one I got yesterday.

“ I think we could be really great together. You’ll see... ”

His jaw tightens and a muscle in his cheek tics while he’s careful not to make eye contact with me. He sends the card flying several feet away from us with a flick of his wrist.

“Ben, please don’t read the last one.” He must hear the pleading in my voice, because he looks at me. My cheeks heat and my hands are shaking. “Don’t, okay?”

He doesn’t break eye contact with me for several long seconds, and it’s clear he’s trying to decide what to do. When I see the change in his expression that tells me he’s decided to read it despite my objections, my shoulders droop and I walk over to his couch and sit down. Leaning forward with my elbows on my thighs, I hold my head between my hands as I stare at the floor and wait.

“ Perhaps my sweet notes aren’t what you want. Perhaps I need to make your body mine, only mine, until you can’t ever let another man touch you. More to come…pun intended .”

Ben remains standing with his back to me, breathing heavily and crumpling the last card in his fist. I wait quietly on the couch, no clue what to say. After a solid few minutes, he walks to the recliner across the room and sits.

As he stares out the window, his eyes flat. “I’m aware you consider it a mistake, but until we confirm otherwise, I’m assuming we’re really married. And that means something. So, now that you know these aren’t from me, can you please ask whoever is likely sending them to stop until we get this”—he clears his throat—“between us figured out?”

I’m so tired. These last several weeks have been some of the most stressful times I’ve had in years, and I don’t have it in me to argue or pretend with him right now.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

Ben sighs and turns to look at me. Though it shouldn’t, the hurt in his eyes bothers me. “Fine.”

“You’re misunderstanding me. I mean I don’t know who is sending them. I have no idea who it could be.”

“What?”

I simply shrug my shoulders. “I’m not dating anyone. They simply started coming.”

“When?” he asks.

I glance up at him. “The week we got back from Vegas. Once a week since. That’s why I thought they were from you. And at Annie and Jack’s party, you implied you wanted to talk about it.”

“I meant because one night when I was at O’Riley’s, I overheard a few firefighters from your station talking about you getting flowers two weeks in a row. That pissed me off because I assumed you were dating. I didn’t mean we should talk about it because they were from me.”

“Oh.”

* * *

BEN

I was angry and jealous when I thought Trina had something going on with someone else. But now I’m worried. I stand from my chair and retrieve all four cards from the floor before going and sitting next to Trina on the couch, sure to give her plenty of space.

I look closely at each card. “The cards were all typed, no handwriting. Two are from local florists and two are from online services.”

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe nothing. But it gives me somewhere to start if you’ll give me the okay to check into this. I think we should tell your chief.”

“No.” Her voice is firm. “I don’t want anyone else to know. Not Emily and Fitz, and certainly not the chief.”

“Trina—”

“No, Ben. I’m serious. It’s important to me that no one else knows unless this person actually does something more. But I want it to stop. So, if you can look into it, off the record, and figure out who it is so we can make them stop, I’d appreciate it.”

It’s not as much as I think we should do, but at least she’s letting me do something, so I nod. “Okay. I’ll let you know what I find out. Hopefully, I should have some answers by the end of the day today or tomorrow. I’ll reach out when I do. Can I keep the cards for now?”

“Sure.” Trina stands from the couch and looks around the room awkwardly. “I should go. Thanks for helping me with this. And… I’m sorry I yelled at you when I first got here.”

“It’s okay.” I walk her outside and watch as she gets into her car and pulls away before I go inside and grab my work bag and the cards, then head out.

I’ve got a few florists to visit.

Four hours later, I’m frustrated and even more worried. I’ve learned that someone purchased the bouquets anonymously and paid for them with different pre-paid, disposable credit cards. Translation: untraceable.

When I called Trina to tell her I had news, she agreed to meet me, shockingly in public, at Pat’s Diner of all places, to discuss it. As I sit and wait for her, I can’t help looking around and remembering that night all those years ago when I hurt her.

“God, I was such a dumb kid back then. Too prideful to realize what I had.” I mutter to myself.

I glance up when I hear the bells on the door and Trina walks in.

She sees me immediately and makes her way to my booth, sliding onto the red-plastic seat across from me and clasping her hands together.

She’s about to open her mouth to speak when Flo, the server who has been here for fifteen years, approaches us. As soon as she sees it’s Trina sitting with me, she stills. “Oh.”

I stiffen, waiting to see how Trina will react. Fortunately, she smiles at Flo and chuckles. “What’s wrong Flo? Feel like you’re in the Twilight Zone, seeing the two of us in the same booth?”

“You know it, Captain. It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen you together in here. It’s nice. You’re two of my favorite kids.”

“Well, first, I told you to call me Trina, not Captain. And?—”

“No, young lady. You earned that title and I’ll be damn sure when I’m around that everyone knows you’re a boss.” Flo smiles and the crinkly skin around her mouth becomes more prominent.

Trina returns her smile with a radiant one of her own, and I grin, watching their interaction. It’s not often I get to see the playful side of Trina.

“And I’m not a kid anymore. I’m in my thirties. Ben and I simply have mutual business today. Nothing more.”

Flo gives her a toothy grin. “Well, you two will always be kids to me. It makes my day seeing you both. You eatin’ or just your usual today?”

“Only my usual, no food for me. Ben?”

I smile and gesture at my coffee mug. “I’m good. Thanks, Flo.” When Flo walks away, my smile fades. “I don’t have great news.”

“Tell me anyway.” Trina’s posture straightens, she folds her hands together on the table, and it’s obvious she’s preparing herself for whatever I have to say.

“Someone purchased all the bouquets anonymously and paid with untraceable pre-paid credit cards. So, there’s no way to track who it is. And—” I pause, not sure how to say what I have to say next.

Flo walks over and slides a strawberry shake in front of Trina, and Trina thanks her as Flo squeezes her shoulder and smiles. It’s clear Trina is special to this woman. When Trina takes her first sip of the shake, I smile at the reminder of her sweet tooth.

“And?” Trina asks, returning her gaze to me.

I take a deep breath. “That’s pretty concerning. This person went to some effort to use different florists and to hide his or her identity. That the last card took a… a sexual tone makes me worried.” Her face falls. “I know you don’t want to file a police report, but I think we at least need to talk to your chief and block any further deliveries to you.”

She’s quiet for several long moments, looking down at the table and holding onto her shake with both hands. “Maybe it’s no big deal,” she whispers. But when she looks up at me, she must see something in my eyes because she takes a deep breath. “Fine. Let me see when he’s available to talk to me.”

Two hours later, Trina and I have been to see her chief and explained the situation. He also encouraged her to file a formal report and to let him tell her fellow firefighters what’s going on, but she was insistent on not doing that. This woman must have everyone wrapped around her finger, because I watched as the chief’s eyes softened, and he acquiesced to her wishes.

Fortunately, she agreed to a moratorium on deliveries and the chief sent an all-staff bulletin out, via email, that no personal deliveries were to be received at the station for any employee. Only official Fire Department deliveries were to be accepted and only from reputable carriers, including the United States Postal Service, FedEx, and UPS. All others were to be declined.

Trina hated it but agreed… and that’s how I know this has shaken her.