“I’ll keep my ears open,” I reply as I continue placing the baseboards. I finish that before I start with Frankie on getting the joints done to be sanded in the morning.
We wrap up the work a little after four, and I check my phone to see if Collins texted me. Seeing nothing come up, I wonder if she was on a call and got off later. I get into my truck with a smile on my face, knowing I’ll be seeing her soon. It’s still crazy to me that she’s been in my life only for a couple of months, and I can’t even begin to imagine her not in it.
I drive down Main Street, noticing a flower shop called Buds and Butterflies. My truck pulls over without me even thinking about it.
Inside the bright flower shop, I look around at the flowers in the glass fridges. I hear movement coming from the back of the store. A worker comes out. “Hi.” She smiles. “How may I help you?”
“I’m looking for flowers.” Then I laugh at myself. “Obviously. But I’m not sure which ones.”
“Is it a special occasion?” She comes out and stands beside me.
“No. It’s just because.”
“Those are the best flowers to give.” Her smile goes big. “So, romantic flowers then.”
“Yes. But hold on”—I raise my hand—“she’s a bit picky with smells lately.”
“I see.” She tries to hide her smile.
“If you can give me a second, I’m going to call and see if she can tell me what has made her sick over the past couple of days.” I pull out my phone and call Collins. If she doesn’t answer, I’m going to go out on a limb and get some flowers anyway. If they make her sick, I’ll take them into the office.
Collins answers after two rings. “Hey.” She sounds more tired than usual. I hear people in the background, so I know she’s not home.
“Hey, I have a question for you. Have you smelled flowers lately? Did any make you sick?”
“I have not, so I don’t know.” Her tone is not one I’ve ever heard before. The sound of tools comes through the receiver.
“Where are you?” I look out the window toward the street.
“I’m at Brock’s shop.”
My heart speeds up when I think that she’s maybe been stuck on the side of the road. Then I get angry that she didn’t call me if she was in trouble. “What? Why?”
“It’s fine,” she huffs out. “Can I call you later?”
“Yeah.” I disconnect and look over at the woman. “Can you prepare four bouquets with different smells to each of them?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll be back to get them in about thirty minutes.”
“Is there a budget?”
“No.”
I rush out and head down the road to Brock’s shop.
Her car sits on the back of a tow truck. I find her standing in the reception area. Her arms are on the counter with Brock behind it. He looks up at me.
“What happened?” I snap, putting my hand on the back of Collins’s neck. “Are you okay?” She looks up at me, and I can see the defeat in her eyes. It makes me want to hurt someone. I bunch my hands into fists, trying to push the anger away.
“It’s nothing.” She quickly shakes her head.
“Nothing?” Brock breathes out like a bull. “It’s not nothing. It’s three slashed tires.” He looks at me. “Cut straight through with a knife. One of the tires was punctured five times.”
My eyes go from Brock to Collins. My hands shake with rage. This is going too fucking far. Now something has to be done.
“It’s fine,” she plays it off.
