Page 54 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Before you say anything—”

“You had no right.” My voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it that makes her flinch.

“I had every right. I’m your best friend, and someone is scaring you, whether you want to admit it or not.” She steps closer, her voice dropping. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to keep you safe.”

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

“Make better calls, and I won’t have to make them for you.” The words hit harder than a slap. Rachel’s eyes are shiny, and I realize with a start that she’s close to tears. “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to watch you brush this off? You’re my person, Hailey. If something happened to you and I’d just…sat back and respected your wishes…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to.

The anger in my chest wars with something else—guilt, maybe. Or gratitude. I’m not sure which. It’s an uncomfortable emotional soup, and I don’t like it.

“I’m still mad at you,” I say finally.

“I know.” She swipes at her eyes. “I can live with that.”

We stand in silence for a moment. Then, awkwardly, she opens her arms. I hesitate before stepping into the hug, letting her squeeze me probably tighter than necessary.

“You smell like garlic,” I mumble against her shoulder.

“It was really good pasta.”

“It’s aggressive.”

“You’re aggressive.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make sense.”

We’re both laughing now, the tension cracking just enough to let us breathe. This is how it always is with us—we fight, we make up, we move on. Usually over less serious things than personal safety and potential stalkers, but the rhythm is familiar.

“Security’s going to want to talk to you,” she mumbles against my shoulder. “Frank said he’ll reach out today.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Something to look forward to.”

She pulls back, studying my face. “Are we okay?”

I sigh. “We will be. Just…warn me next time before you steamroll my decisions.”

“If there’s a next time, I’m steamrolling harder.” She says it lightly, but I can tell she means it. “Also, you need to buy me coffee. For emotional damages.”

“You violated my trust and I have to buy you coffee?”

“That’s correct.”

“Your logic is broken.”

“And yet.” She shrugs, already walking backward toward the locker room. “Text me tomorrow. Or later today. Whatever. You know what I mean.”

I drive home in the early morning light, exhaustion settling into my bones after the twelve-hour shift. I text Cole to confirm a time and place for our jump, then crawl into bed after feeding Chewy, setting an alarm for two p.m. That will give me enough time to shower, get ready, and make it to our meeting place on time.

Just before sleep claims me, a flutter of anticipation cuts through my fatigue. I can’t wait to fall out of an airplane with Cole Matthews.

Chapter Thirteen: Hailey

When my alarm goes off, I’m momentarily disoriented, my body still craving more sleep. But then I remember—skydiving with Cole at four thirty. The thought propels me out of bed and into the shower, where the hot water helps restore some semblance of humanity. I exfoliate and shave every nook and cranny twice before lathering my entire body in vanilla-scented soap. I hope Cole likes vanilla. He’s got to, right? What man doesn’t like diving headfirst into someone who smells like a cupcake?