Page 12 of Stalkers Anonymous

Tyler seems unfazed, like he was expecting me to push back. “Then you’re wasting both our time, and you’re not really participating in the program like you’re supposed to.” He cuts into his omelet. “But I’m not actually a stranger anymore. I’m your accountability partner. And believe it or not, I’ve been exactly where you are—thinking this is all bullshit, that my situation was different, that I’m just more observant or protective than other people.”

I take a bite of my sandwich to avoid giving him an immediate response. It’s surprisingly good, the bacon perfectly crisp, the bread fresh. I make him wait until I’ve swallowed. “You don’t know my situation.”

“True,” Tyler concedes. “So tell me. What makes you different from the rest of us?”

The bluntness of the question hits its mark. No one has put it quite that directly before—not Jack, not the HR department, not even Emma.

Obviously I can’t give Tyler the truth—about Emma, about Shitbag Steve. But I knew this was coming, and I have my story prepared.

“I was protecting my company’s interests,” I say. “A coworker was accessing secure servers outside normal working hours, communicating with unknown external accounts. It looked like data theft.”

All true. Just…not the reason I was sent to IBSG.

“And was it?”

I hesitate, remembering the moment I realized I hadn’t uncovered someone stealing corporate secrets—just some chucklehead conducting an affair using company technology. The flash of triumph at catching someone out was followed immediately by the sinking realization that I’d overstepped.

“No,” I admit finally. “He was having an affair with someone in marketing. Using company resources inappropriately, but not stealing data.”

“So you reported him for the affair?”

“I reported unusual access patterns. IT security is literally my job.” The irritation creeps back into my voice. “I didn’t know it was an affair until after I’d gone too far.”

Tyler nods, absorbing this information. “And how did you get from ‘unusual access patterns’ to ‘affair’?”

I shift uncomfortably in the booth. This isn’t the real reason I joined the group, but it could be. The situation at work was just one of the many times I’ve done…more than was strictly required in the surveillance department. But laying out the facts of that scenario is a necessary sacrifice to keep my bigger secret hidden.

Tyler doesn’t need to know how far I really went to ruin Emma’s ex.

No one needs to know.

“I set up additional monitoring on his accounts. Read his emails. Tracked his badge access to see which floors he was visiting outside his department.”

“Did you have authorization to do any of that?”

“Not…explicitly. But it was a potential security breach. I was being thorough.”

“Thorough,” Tyler repeats, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue. “That’s a good word. I used ‘attentive.’ Grant uses ‘dedicated’ or ‘passionate.’ We all have our preferred terms for justifying what we know is wrong.”

I set down my sandwich, appetite fading. “Look, I get that I went too far. That’s why I’m here. But it was a mistake made in the course of doing my job, not some creepy obsession with a stranger.”

I wash away the bitter taste of the lie with a gulp of coffee. A nervous itch tickles the back of my mind—the realization that I haven’t stopped thinking about Hailey since we crossed paths on the trail. Tyler can’t know about her yet. He’ll turn it into something it’s not.

Tyler takes another bite of his omelet, chewing thoughtfully. “Most of us don’t start with creepy obsessions, Cole. We start with justifiable reasons for paying attention, for gathering more information. The problem comes when we can’t stop. When we keep going beyond what’s necessary.”

“Tracey mentioned homework,” I say, trying to move us into safer territory. Maintaining this complex lie about what brought me to IBSG involves more mental gymnastics than I’d like it to. Then again, I didn’t realize group therapy would mean one-on-one meetings with a guy whose sharp observations prickle my skin like the tines of a fucking fork.

“Right. Documenting triggers.” Tyler seems to accept the pivot. “Have there been any moments since the meeting where you felt the impulse to watch someone? To look up information you didn’t strictly need?”

I think about the tracking app I still haven’t deleted that keeps tabs on Shitbag Steve.

About mentally cataloging details of the new neighbors moving in across the street.

And about the background check I ran on a client’s system administrator just this morning, going deeper than the security audit required.

“A few,” I admit reluctantly.

“That’s normal,” Tyler says, surprising me with the absence of judgment in his voice. “The first step is just noticing the impulses. Not beating yourself up about them, just recognizing they exist.”