Page 139 of Stalkers Anonymous

I exhale slowly, the full magnitude of the group really hitting me. “You’ve done this before.”

“A few times.” Austen shrugs, then goes back to typing.

I have been so deeply, embarrassingly underestimating my therapy group.

Hailey squeezes my fingers. When I look at her, she lifts her eyebrows just slightly, giving me an “Are you okay?” look.

I squeeze back, offering her a small smile.

Across the room, Zach finally hangs up and turns around.

“Property’s ours. South of town at the train bridge. We’ll stage for the underpass. Nobody will be out there after dark.”

I’ve always viewed Zach as somewhat reserved and occasionally overly cautious. He is, without a doubt, not who I thought he was. He could be the most dangerous person in this room, and none of us would know. That’s…terrifying. And very fucking cool.

“We good?” Jessica asks the group.

“Good,” Tyler echoes.

“Good,” Grant adds.

Austen lifts a thumbs-up, and Zach nods once.

“Great,” Hailey chimes in.

“That’s it?” I ask. “What about the small details?”

“We’ve done this before,” Tyler reminds me, giving me a mischievous grin. “You’ll learn as we go. Consider it on-the-job training.”

Hailey leans into my shoulder, letting her eyes drift closed for half a second before she forces them back open. It feels good to be beside her.

Twenty minutes later, we’re halfway down Jessica’s walkway when Tyler comes jogging out behind us.

“Hey. Before you go. One more thing.”

We stop and wait for him to catch up. “What’s up?” I ask.

“I need to show Hailey the van.”

Hailey blinks at him, clearly as confused as I am. “The van?”

“The van.” He beams, clapping his hands together.

“Your…brewery van?” She glances between the van and Tyler.

“It is technically a brewery van, yes.”

Hailey looks at me for answers, but I am so far past being able to anticipate anything Tyler’s going to do that I just shrug at her.

Hailey shoots Tyler an assessing gaze. “You, a self-proclaimed stalker, are asking me to get in your van?” She covers her mouth, trying to suppress a giggle.

Tyler cringes but quickly recovers. “I see how this looks, but I promise it’s cool. I have stakeout snacks.”

“Okay. Show me the van, Tyler. The stakeout snacks better be top-tier.”

Tyler smiles so broadly I notice his dimples for the first time.

He leads us to the van, which from the outside looks like a standard, beat-up, white panel van. Tyler unlocks the back doors with a fob he produces from his pocket, like it’s the key to a Bugatti.