Page 24 of Stalkers Anonymous

“I’m good at it,” I say, which isn’t quite the same thing. “It suits my skillset.”

“Hmm.” She’s smiling, but the perceptiveness in her twinkling gaze tells me she caught the distinction.

“What about you?” I ask, redirecting. “Why emergency medicine?”

“I like the pace. The variety. Every shift is different—one minute you’re treating a kid with a broken arm, the next you’re trying to get someone through a heart attack.” Her expression grows more animated as she talks, using her hands to propel her story forward.

“That’s pretty amazing,” I say, and mean it. “I sit behind a computer. You actually save lives.”

“You probably save lives, too, just differently. You’re preventing damage before it happens.”

The way she frames it makes my work sound almost noble, which is more generous than I probably deserve.

“That’s one way to look at it,” I say.

We fall into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation flowing naturally. She tells me about Chewy, her ferret, and I find myself genuinely laughing at her description of him stealing her socks and hiding them in increasingly creative places.

“A ferret,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s…unexpected.”

“Everyone says that. But he’s great. Relatively low maintenance, playful, doesn’t judge me when I come home at six a.m. and immediately pass out on the couch.”

“How long have you had him?”

“Two years. I got him right after I moved here—figured I needed some company.” She pauses. “What about you? Any pets?”

“No. My schedule’s too irregular.” It’s true, but also, I’ve never been able to commit to the responsibility of owning a pet. They’re too unpredictable and distracting, with their big eyes and fluffy little bodies.

“Fair enough. Chewy’s pretty self-sufficient, which helps.” She glances at her phone, then grimaces. “I should probably get going soon. I need to catch up on some charting before my shift starts.”

I feel a stab of disappointment, which is ridiculous considering I wasn’t even expecting to find her here. “Night shift, yeah?”

“Three in a row, then I get four days off, unless I pick up overtime. It’s different from most people’s schedules, but it works for me.”

“Give me your number?” I say, then immediately feel like I’ve overstepped and begin to backtrack. “I mean—if you want. I just thought—”

“Cole.” She’s laughing softly, pulling out her phone. “It’s okay. I want to give you my number.”

We exchange phones, and I type my information into her contacts while she does the same with mine. When I hand her phone back, our fingers brush briefly, and apparently that’s all it takes for my brain to short-circuit.

“I’ll text you.” I barely manage to form the words.

“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.” She stands, gathering her jacket and purse. “This was nice. Really nice.”

“It was.” I stand, too, not wanting this to end but knowing she needs to get to work. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know. But I’d like to, if you’ll let me.”

She considers for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

Behind us, Madison’s words ring out one last time. “I have an iced macchiato for Maggot?”

“Maggie.”

“That’s what I said!”

Hailey shoots me a look, biting back a smile. “She’s a menace.”