Page 64 of Stalkers Anonymous

Stop.

I need to stop.

I can’t meet her with a hard-on.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I adjust my shirt for the fourth time. Dark-gray T-shirt, dark jeans, boots. I’ve gone back and forth for almost an hour. This date is a literal walk in the park, but my brain is making it so much more serious than it needs to be.

My laptop sits open on the kitchen counter, cursor blinking in a search bar. I’ve spent too many days in a row deep-diving into Lars Winters’s life. The urge to learn everything there is to know about him constricts in my chest, a tightness that won’t ease until I know it all.

The man is a monster in more ways than one.

I grab my keys and wallet, deliberately leaving the laptop closed. Today is about me and Hailey. Not him.

…

The parking lot is half-full when I arrive at Sheldon Lake—families with strollers, joggers, a group of elderly women power-walking in matching visors. I spot Hailey’s car immediately, the keyed word covered by multiple rows of silver duct tape.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Every time I see it, something dark and violent unfurls in my chest. He did that. Keyed that word into her car like he was marking his territory. The urge to find him and have a very educational conversation about respecting women rises immediately. And by conversation, I mean—

No. That’s not who I am anymore. That’s not who I’m trying to be.

I park next to her car and take a second to compose myself before getting out. The autumn air is crisp, carrying the smell of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke. Colorado in October is infinitely beautiful.

Hailey is waiting near a gazebo, leaning against a wooden sign that displays a map of the sculpture park. She’s wearing leggings that hug her curves and an oversize sweatshirt that keeps slipping off one shoulder. Her blond hair is loose, catching the afternoon light.

She’s devastating. I’ve known since our first meeting how naturally beautiful she is, but every time I see her, it hits me all over again.

When she spots me, her face breaks into a smile. She pushes off the sign and walks toward me, and before I can overthink it, she’s rising to press a kiss to my mouth.

“Hi,” she says against my lips.

“Hi.” My hands find her waist automatically, pulling her closer. She fits against me so perfectly. “You’re early.”

“So are you.”

“I’m always early.”

“I know.” She grins, pulling back to look at me. “I figured I’d beat you for once.”

“Damn.” I’m grinning now, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “Competitive.”

“You have no idea.”

We start walking along the paved path that circles the lake, and I have to consciously stop myself from immediately scanning for threats. Old habits. Instead, I grab Hailey’s hand, lacing her fingers with mine. The trail is well populated, with autumn colors reflecting off the water and families feeding ducks near the shore.

We approach the first sculpture along the trail—a towering metal structure that looks like either a bird in flight or a very ambitious tornado. The placard identifies it as “Aspiration” by some artist I’ve never heard of.

“What do you think it’s supposed to be?” Hailey asks, tilting her head.

“Modern art is just a Rorschach test for rich people.”

She snorts. “That’s deeply cynical.”

“I prefer realistic.” I study the sculpture, trying to see what the artist intended. I should make more of an effort. Modern art might be a test for the rich, but maybe this walk is Hailey’s test for me. “I think it’s supposed to represent upward movement. Maybe…striving for something?”

“I was going to say it looks like a drunk crane.”

I knew I liked this woman.