Becca stared across the store, in somewhat of a daze. She’d been thinking far too much lately and had spent a lot of time tangling her thoughts and feelings together in a messy ball that was proving difficult to unravel. She didn’t know what to think or feel about Rowan anymore. The only thing she knew was none of it felt good.

 

She’d treated him badly. He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t acted out against her in any way. He hadn’t acted anything like Nick in any way, really. She was judging him, like he’d said. She heard the MC leader part and had changed everything she knew about him. In fact, she’d completely erased everything she knew about him and saw only Nick and his meanness and his criminal activity and his violence.

 

But Rowan had been kind. He’d had nothing but patience with Emma. He’d been a perfect house guest when she was helping him recuperate after his injuries. He’d even paid for the things he’d damaged as he said he would, which she hadn’t really counted on at all. But when she opened her mail yesterday and saw the envelope of cash, she’d been floored. It was far more than he needed to give her to pay for the damages, and it was like he was saying he wanted to make up for it all somehow. The money probably came from an illegal source. She knew this. But so had all of Nick’s money and she and Emma had lived on that for years, so why not take this money now when she so badly needed it?

 

Not that the towels and everything needed to be replaced, but the car needed new brakes and Emma was growing out of her clothes. The car insurance was also going to be due soon and she hadn’t known how she was going to pay for it. Well, she did now. This money was a big help. And it proved he kept his word. After their fight, she’d thought she’d never hear from him again. She thought she’d ruined things between them by turning cold like that and saying horrible things to him. But maybe he wasn’t so mad after all. Maybe he didn’t hate her.

 

And then there were the flowers. Highly mysterious. She’d walked out to her car after work yesterday and seen a bunch of bright flowers sitting on her car’s roof. They had no note or anything. Just sat there, innocent and curious. They were gorgeous. Were they from Rowan? It wasn’t like she had a secret admirer that she knew of, and she wasn’t so delusional to think guys really did that anyway. There was no one else in her life who would give her flowers. There were only two possibilities. They were from Rowan. Or they were from someone malicious.

 

She almost hadn’t wanted to pick them up. Her mind went wild. After having a gun pressed to her head, who knew what these flowers might mean? They could be poisoned for all she knew. She might put them in her car and drive home as the poison filled the air and killed her. The main thing that helped her avoid believing that theory was that they had been sitting outside. If something was airborne, it would surely have evaporated or dissipated by now. She was also aware that she was thinking in a slightly paranoid fashion. Which was only heightened by the fact that her first thought upon seeing them was that Nick had found them and brought her flowers to torture her.

 

She had no reason to think Nick had found them or was even trying to look for them. She figured that as long as she wasn’t trying to get him to pay child support, he had no reason to complain. But she still wondered. She’d been his for so long and she’d taken his child away. If for nothing else than the control factor, wouldn’t he come to find them? Just to show his dominance over her and to prove she couldn’t leave him? Wouldn’t he need to save face in front of his MC? Or maybe he’d told them he kicked her out. That’d be fine with her. She wished she could contact one of the wives she’d been somewhat friends with. Just to see what Nick’s emotional state was and what he was saying about the whole thing. But that was far too dangerous. She’d never take that chance.

 

After a few minutes of thinking, she’d shaken out the flowers a bit, decided not to sniff them just in case, and set them on her passenger seat, near the window. Then she put the window down when she got inside.

 

Maybe she was paranoid, but better safe than sorry. And lately, with the strange man who luckily hadn’t shown up at the shop again, and then the frightening attack, she didn’t think there was such a thing as paranoia for someone in her case.

 

In fact, she was quite fearful of going home. She’d even put a kitchen knife in her car. Though she had no idea how she’d keep Emma from seeing it. She was still grateful Emma had no idea what happened with the gunman. All she needed was to see Mommy with a gun against her head. But, somehow, she’d been spared. The poor kid had enough to deal with after being hit by her father twice, watching her mother be hit so many times, and all the yelling he’d done. All he did was yell. And then they’d up and left one day in the middle of the night. If Emma turned out anything close to normal, Becca would be relieved.

 

When she’d gotten home, she looked around frantically. She’d sat in her car so long, waiting and watching, that Emma had asked what was wrong. Becca got out of the car and made Emma stay in her seat. She checked around the building and made sure no one suspicious was around. She gripped the knife tight in her hand and when she got Emma out of her seat, tucked the knife into her pocket. She kept her hand on the handle as they walked in the building.

 

When they were inside, she locked the door and the deadbolt and moved the couch in front of the door again. She put the knife on the counter in the kitchen, back far enough that Emma couldn’t reach it, but that she could grab it fast. She took another knife into her bedroom and put it under her pillow. She really needed to get a gun. She went through every room in the apartment, making sure the windows were secure.

 

“Mommy, why is our couch always there now?” Emma pointed and tilted her head to the side.

 

“I just thought it gives us more room that way.”

 

“Can we move the TV and table, too? Then we’d have lots of room!”

 

“Let’s just leave it like this for a while, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Emma plopped down on the couch and picked up her animals to play.

 

Becca couldn’t decide what to do with herself. She’d put the flowers in a drinking glass that would have to double as a vase since she didn’t own one. At first, she set them on the kitchen counter, but that felt too close to Emma, so, just in case, she moved them to her bedroom and put them by the window. They looked nice there and she made herself think they were from Rowan every time she looked at them. At least that made her feel good. Thinking they could be from Nick made her want to throw up.

 

She felt unsettled and unsafe. She wished she could call Rowan and have him come over for a while. She’d felt safe when he was there. And that had made her feel even worse. She’d called him sobbing so late at night and he’d dropped everything to run to her. He had protected her through the night, like he’d said. And he’d made her feel like nothing could hurt them. But now, without his protection, anything could.

 

She missed him. Which didn’t make much sense because she hadn’t known him that long, but she did. She wanted to call him or see him. Wanted to find out about the flowers and the money. She’d tucked the envelope behind her dresser, where she hoped no one would find it if her place was broken into. She’d have to take it to the bank in the morning to deposit it so it was safe and she could pay bills with it. Maybe she would use some of it to buy that gun finally. And to get some shooting lessons.

 

But what to do about Rowan? She didn’t know where he lived, but she had his number. She could call or text him. But if he were really as mad as he’d seemed, maybe that wouldn’t be good. She still wasn’t sure what his breaking point was, though everyone had to have one. That point where, no matter what, you had to hit something or break something or hurt someone. It was just a matter of finding out—or hopefully never finding out—what his was. If she called him or texted, that’d be safe enough, right? He wouldn’t be there in person. The worst he could do was yell, which would be bad enough, but she wouldn’t feel physically threatened by only yelling.

 

And she couldn’t leave things as they were. It would haunt her forever if she did. She had to apologize and tell him she was wrong about him. She knew that. Had known it even as she was saying it, but still couldn’t stop herself. She wished she’d found out he was an MC leader some other way than when he was in her house having breakfast after they’d spent the night together. It was too big of a shock after such a horrible incident with the gunman and then such a wonderful time with him. Too much up and down and she’d gone into her default mode. To be scared and see him as she saw the only other MC leader she knew, Nick. But he was no Nick. And she had to tell him that.

 

That night, she went into her bedroom and paced for a few minutes, thinking. She wanted to find out about the flowers and thank him for the money. Wanted to apologize and ask for forgiveness. She’d tell him she knew he wasn’t like that and hoped that he would still want to talk to her again. She practiced what she’d say several times. Then, with a racing heart, she scrolled to his name.

 

But then she couldn’t do it. What if he did get mad? What if he did yell? He might need a day to cool off. The fight had only happened that morning, so maybe this was too soon. She’d set the phone back down and decided to wait. But that hadn’t stopped her from keeping the phone at her side in case he was the one to call or text first.

 

 

 

# # #

 

 

 

But he hadn’t. She hadn’t heard from him at all last night or at all today. Now her work day was almost over. There had been no strange flowers or envelopes today. Nothing that seemed like it could be from him.

 

“Becca, could you help me?”

 

Penny’s voice made her jump and broke her Rowan trance. “Oh, sure, Penny. What do you need?

 

“I want to move around some of these shirts. The same ones have been in the front too long and they don’t seem to be selling as well as the others. Let’s make sure the sizes are all together, too.”

 

Becca went to the rack of t-shirts and began sorting them as Penny went to the other rack and did the same.

 

“Everything okay?” Penny asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot going on, I guess.”

 

Penny picked up a purple shirt and moved it to Becca’s rack with the other purple shirts. “You just seem a little unfocused today. And yesterday.” Penny paused to look at her. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

 

“I know.” Becca sighed. “It’s guy trouble, I guess. I kind of met someone, but I think I messed things up.”

 

“Oh? What happened?”

 

“Well, remember my sick friend I was taking care of last week? He was actually more like half dead, left on the side of the road, and I took him to my apartment to recover. But then I just found out that he’s maybe more of a bad boy than I thought. But he’s really nice and sweet, and not like most guys who are like that, you know?”

 

Penny nodded. “It’s easy to make assumptions about people.”

 

“Yeah. And I think I assumed wrong.”

 

“Well, there’s one way to fix that.”

 

Becca shuffled around a few shirts, putting them in order from smallest to largest on the rack. “I’m not sure it’s fixable. We got into a fight and I said some mean things. We haven’t known each other that long, so I don’t know what he’s thinking right now or anything.”

 

“How long ago was this fight?”

 

“Yesterday morning.”

 

“You haven’t heard from him?”

 

“Well…” Becca made a quick glance around the store. She’d gotten in the habit of doing this. Looking for the man who’d come in to warn her, looking for anyone else who might be looking for her. Everyone seemed to be just regular customers today, though. “There were flowers on my car yesterday. But there was no note or anything, so I don’t know for sure that they’re from him.”

 

“Hmm. If they are, that’s a good sign.”

 

“I know. But I don’t want to act on that and assume they were from him and then find out they weren’t.”

 

“Who else would they be from?” Penny raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Is there someone else you’ve been talking to?”

 

“No. That’s the thing. I have no idea who else would have done that.”

 

“Sounds like it’s your guy, then.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

Penny moved another shirt to her rack. “Let’s move this shirt design to the front. People seem to like it.” She held up a green shirt with an image of a tree on the front. They started moving the shirts. “I’m sure they were from your guy. What’s his name?”

 

“Rowan.”

 

Penny smiled. “Maybe you should call him. You’re saying it was kind of your fault? The fight?”

 

“No, it was definitely my fault. You’re right. I have to call him. Unless I want to let him go forever.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like that’s what you want.”

 

“No. It’s just so hard for me to trust people. What if he turns out to be like Nick?”

 

Penny put her hand on Becca’s shoulder for a moment. “Of course you have trouble trusting people. That’s to be expected. And I’m sure you know what signs to look for.”

 

Signs. Like being in a motorcycle club? She reminded herself that Rowan hadn’t actually acted like Nick at all, and just because they did the same things didn’t mean they were the same type of person. What if they had both been accountants? She wouldn’t be having these thoughts then.

 

Maybe Penny was right. Did she know the signs, though? Nick had been so charming and nice in the beginning. Kind of like Rowan was now. Though Nick had often lied and made big promises that he didn’t come through on. He’d make plans to take her out, then cancel at the last minute or not bother to show at all and swoop in the next day with an apology and a sparkly bracelet or some other romantic gesture to make up for it.

 

Rowan had already made good on the one thing he’d said he would do—paying for the damages—and he’d been reliable, though there wasn’t much to go on. It was just so new. She didn’t have much to compare and time usually revealed things. Well, if time would reveal it, then she’d watch for it. She would know what to look for. Anything that felt or sounded like Nick would be a warning. Enough warnings and she’d end it. But so far, the only thing on that list was that they both happened to be MC leaders and have similar interests. Bikes, crime, fighting.

 

Thinking of all that again made her stomach ache. Even if he was different, he did have a dangerous lifestyle. The gunman, the crime. Would she have to bail Rowan out of jail a bunch of times like she did for Nick? Did Rowan keep wads of cash hidden all over his house in case he was arrested? That way, she could pay to get him out on bond by just going in and grabbing a wad or two.

 

Even if Rowan was different, did she want to be part of that life again? How much of that could affect Emma? And the real question, if they got together and stayed together, would he ever give up that life? She’d tried to get Nick to, many times. Find a straight job and live on the up and up. He’d refused. Said he never wanted a normal job. Too little money, too much time, too exhausting. She couldn’t blame him. When she’d considered the ways their lives would change if he did, the money thing was significant. But wasn’t it worth it? How much money had they spent on bonds and lawyer fees and bribes over the years? They’d have none of that if he weren’t running around breaking the law constantly.

 

But if Rowan were so different, maybe he had other plans and aspirations. Maybe he already wanted to get out of the life of crime. It wasn’t something you could really talk someone into. Not really. He might do it. Leave and give up his club and everything if she begged him to. But then he’d hate her for it someday. That was never a good plan. Either he’d have to want to leave on his own, or she’d have to assume he never would. And was she okay with that?

 

None of these things could be decided here on her own. She’d need to talk to him first. If he wouldn’t talk to her, there was no sense in worrying about anything else. So that was it. She would call him. She would talk to him. Apologize and hope he’d forgive her. Then they could go from there. She could get to know him better and see what he was really like. How hard was his life really? And could she be part of it for the long-term?

 

Though even at that thought, she had some hesitation. What if she got to know him, fell in love with him, and then discovered he would never give up his life of crime? She’d have to be okay with it. Or she better not fall in the first place.

 

Throughout the rest of her day, she changed her mind at least a dozen times. Yes, definitely call him and work things out. No, don’t call him because you aren’t going to be okay with his lifestyle.

 

She finally settled on sending him a simple text. Hey. Can we talk about the other day?

 

She held her phone in her hands for several minutes, hoping he’d respond quickly. But after five minutes, she put her phone back in her pocket. After thirty, she figured he was either busy and couldn’t answer, or the answer was no.

 

She tried to focus on work and think about what she’d make for Emma for dinner that night. She had some chicken and vegetables. Probably there was still some rice in the pantry. That would work. She had laundry to do, and Emma’s room could stand a vacuuming. She made a mental list of everything she’d fill her time with. Hopefully it would be enough.

 

Toward the end of her shift, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It wasn’t a text; it was a call. Her heart leapt. Maybe he’d decided to respond to her text by calling her. She pulled her phone from her pocket and her heart sank when she saw Lucille’s name on the screen. Rowan still hadn’t responded.

 

“Hi, Lucille,” she said, making sure her voice still sounded cheerful. It wasn’t Lucille’s fault that she hadn’t been who Becca was hoping had called.

 

“Becca? Are you at work?” Her voice sounded frantic and panicked in a way Becca had never heard before. Her whole body tensed instantly.

 

“Yes. What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s Emma. She’s gone.”