Page 47 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Excellent,” Tracey says. “That’s exactly the kind of redirection we encourage.”

The meeting continues with Zach sharing a brief, reluctant account of driving past his ex-client’s gym “just to see if his car was there,” but successfully resisting the urge to go inside. The group discussion that follows centers on identifying early warning signs of relapse and developing personalized strategies for interrupting past patterns before they can develop into fully realized behaviors.

As the conversation flows around me, I find myself both engaged and detached—interested in the people around me and how they’ve learned to live with such a demanding addiction, yet maintaining an emotional wall between myself and the group. I’m participating, but not fully belonging.

“Before we wrap up for today,” Tracey says as the hour draws to a close, “I want to highlight an important point from our discussion. Several of you mentioned justifying surveillance behaviors as protection or appreciation of the other person. This is a common rationalization—the belief that your behavior serves a positive purpose for the person being observed.”

She looks around the circle, making brief, uncomfortable eye contact with each of us. It takes everything in me not to drop my gaze when she looks at me. “The reality is that true protection respects independence. True appreciation respects boundaries. When we watch others without their knowledge or consent, we’re not protecting or appreciating them—we’re controlling our own anxiety about uncertainty.”

Her words slice through me with scalpel-like precision. I almost question whether or not she’s been watching me this week.

“For next week,” Tracey continues, “I’d like you all to continue your awareness practice, but with special attention to the justifications that arise. What stories do you tell yourself about why your behavior is necessary or beneficial? Write these down, and we’ll discuss them at our next meeting.”

She glances at her watch. “Let’s end with our commitment statements for the week ahead.”

One by one, we recite our intentions for the coming week. When my turn comes, I say simply, “I will respect the boundaries Hailey sets, even when it’s hard.”

The words come out feeling more like a lie than the truth. I’ll try to respect Hailey’s boundaries, but I can’t promise I won’t act to protect her if Lars Winters continues to be a problem.

As the meeting disperses, Tyler approaches me. “Got time for coffee? The place across the street isn’t half bad.”

I consider declining. Our scheduled check-in isn’t until later in the week, and I’ve already used up my quota of personal disclosure for the day. But there’s something about Tyler’s expression that tells me this isn’t a casual invitation.

“Sure,” I agree with a shrug. “One cup shouldn’t keep me up all night.”

The coffee shop is small but not crowded, with mismatched furniture and local art on the walls. We order coffee and then find a table near the back, away from the handful of other customers tapping on laptops or engaged in quiet conversation.

Tyler doesn’t touch his overcomplicated espresso concoction. He just watches me for a long moment, his fingers laced together on the table.

“So,” he finally says. “You want to tell me what’s actually going on?”

I raise an eyebrow, bringing my black coffee to my lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.” Tyler’s voice is quiet but firm. “I’ve been in those meetings for six months, Cole. I know what a man looks like when he’s white-knuckling it through a share. You gave Tracey exactly what she wanted to hear tonight. All the right words, all the right insights.” He leans forward. “But your knee was bouncing the entire time. You kept clenching your jaw. And you couldn’t look anyone in the eye when you talked about Hailey.”

Damn. Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only hypervigilant guy in the room.

“I’m fine,” I say, the lie tasting stale even as it leaves my mouth.

Tyler just stares at me.

The silence stretches. He doesn’t fill it. Doesn’t prompt. Just waits with the patience of a man who’s heard every deflection in the book and has all night to sit through mine.

“Spill it,” he says finally. “Whatever it is. I’m not Tracey—I’m not going to write it in a file or adjust your plan. But I am going to stay here until you give me something real.”

My mind races through options, calculating which truth to offer up. Because Tyler’s right—he’s too observant to accept another polished non-answer. He needs something genuine.

Option one: Tell him about Lars Winters. About the footage I found. About the address currently burning a hole in my brain. About how every instinct I have is screaming at me to pay the man a visit and make sure he understands exactly what happens to people who threaten women I care about.

Option two: Tell him about Emma.

The choice is easy. Emma’s incident is in the past, and it’s the real reason I’m in the program. Lars Winters is a problem I haven’t solved yet. No one has to know about it.

I drag a hand over my face and let out a slow breath.

“I haven’t mentioned my sister yet, have I?”

Tyler’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Didn’t know you had one.”