Page 11

Violet

* * *

I finish the day in the bus with our part-time employee, Tim. He's a college kid and we work around his class schedule, which totally works for us during the winter since things aren't as busy with the food truck.

Jas left early because she has plans with her boyfriend. A belated Valentine's Day dinner and show in Wilmington.

Tim calls out a goodbye as he heads toward the steps, carrying the trash.

"See you in a few days," he says.

"Good luck on your exam," I counter. Tim is a good kid. A little immature but a hard worker.

I finish washing up and put everything away, locking the cabinet doors so nothing shifts during transit. We have abbreviated hours during the winter due to the lack of sun and visitors, so dusk is setting in at five-thirty.

I move to close the order window when I see a man in my peripheral vision. I freeze, but he's too far away to clearly make out. He's bundled up in a coat and beanie, wearing sunglasses, and he turns right as I notice him.

My pulse pounds, and I tell myself it's nothing. That the man is just a man. A local or tourist and no one of interest. He takes a few steps, and I lose sight of him, and I hate the instant surge of fear pummeling me.

You think this is over? You ruined my life!

I let the order window close with a too-hard slam and lock the latches with trembling fingers. I rush to the doors and lock them up as well. Once I'm enclosed, safe, I lean my forehead against the cold metal.

It wasn't him. I'm safe. It wasn't him.

I force air into my lungs and straighten, squaring my shoulders. I considered taking self-defense classes after Thad had gone to prison, but I balked at the expense when I had so much to pay back when it came to all the doctor and hospital fees.

I've cut corners everywhere I can to try to pay more toward my debt. Moving into my parents' house and covering the utilities with Jasmine helps since we don't pay rent. But now I wish I took those classes, if for no other reason than to feel stronger and more in control than I do.

I force my thoughts away from him, the past and all the darkness I feel, and take a last look at the interior before sliding behind the wheel. Betty starts up with a purr and I get rolling, my grip so tight pain shoots through my hands.

It wasn't him. It was just a guy. Like the guy I saw a few days ago. It wasn’t him.

It wasn't…him?

That evening the feeling of being watched continues. I blame my imagination. I blame fear and PTSD. I blame the fact I haven't been as proactive as I should have been when it came to taking measures to protect myself.

I go down the rabbit hole of should've, could've, would've my counselor nags me about when we meet. I can feel myself spiraling, and yet I can't shake it.

Am I paranoid?

After parking the bus at my parents' home, I quickly strip off the Beach Babe Burgers tee and put on a Pelican one. I grab a protein shake for dinner, chugging it down because I know I need to eat something despite my churning stomach.

Jas dropped me off to pick up my car this morning before we opened, so I drive it to my second job while that feeling lingers like a bad flu. I repeatedly check my rearview mirror, and I don't see anyone. Not a person, not a car. At least not anything unusual. Just people going about their day, oblivious to the fact I'm glaring at them like they're about to attack.

I clock in at the Pelican and manage a wave of greeting at a few regulars as I make my way behind the bar. They nod or smile in my direction, used to my temperament and accepting of it. I'm glad. When I applied for the job, Ty mentioned my tips might reflect my less-than-stellar people skills. He worried he'd train me only to have me quit.

Thankfully the customers don't care much about my attitude so long as their orders are right and their drinks are served quickly.

"You look tired," Ty says while slinging a towel over his broad shoulder and eyeing me like a big brother. "You feeling all right to work? Need another shift off?"

"I'm fine now," I say with more confidence than I feel. "Thanks for covering for me last night. Sorry I took off like that."

"No problem."

It is a problem, and we both know it, but Ty's a good guy and a good boss, so he'll let it slide for now.

"Anything I need to know?" I ask.