Page 103 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Nothing. He kept fumbling around with explanations that didn’t make sense, and I could hear him catching himself in a lie every time he opened his mouth.”

“Jesus, Hailey. Are you okay? Is he there?”

“No. I told him not to come. He was almost here when I told him I needed space.” I lift the curtain again, just enough to check the street. Still empty. “I think he listened. I don’t know where he is right now.”

“That’s—” Rachel exhales, the kind of whole-body breath she saves for the end of a bad shift. “That’s a lot, Hailey.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

I hesitate. A past version of myself would’ve told her no, begged her to go back to bed. Tonight I can’t bear the thought of being alone.

“Yeah. Please.”

“Give me twenty minutes. Don’t open the door for anyone who isn’t me.”

“I won’t.”

After she hangs up, I slide down the wall next to my front door and sit on the floor with Chewy tucked into my lap. The TV is still playing its stupid meet-cute music in the background. I watch my phone on the hardwood in front of me, Cole’s name flashing and disappearing every time he tries to call again.

He lied. That I know for sure.

But when he said my name, when he told me to stay away from the windows, he sounded genuinely scared for me. It wasn’t performative. He was afraid.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

I pull my knees up to my chest, rest my cheek on top of Chewy’s head, and wait for Rachel.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Cole

“What the fuck just happened?” Tyler’s voice cuts through the buzz in my ears. He’s in my passenger seat, already on high alert.

“She hung up on me.” I stare ahead, clenching my jaw.

“Yeah. I got that part. What did she say before that?”

“She quickly realized I shouldn’t know what Lars Winters looks like. She told me not to come to her apartment. Said she needs space.” I grip the steering wheel so tightly it feels like it might crumble beneath my hands.

“Jesus Christ, Cole.”

“I know.”

I take the next right fast enough that the tires chirp.

“Slow the fuck down,” Tyler shouts as I run another red light. “We’ll find him, but we’ll be no use to Hailey if you wrap this car around a tree before we get there.”

I scan the street, eyes cutting from the sidewalk to spaces between parked cars. Every movement in the corner of my eye kicks my pulse up another notch.

Then I see him as we turn onto Hailey’s street.

There.

He’s walking away from her building, hands jammed in his jacket pockets.

My vision narrows, and my blood turns red-hot.

I pull to the curb hard enough that Tyler swears and braces himself between the dash and the oh-shit handle.