Page 65 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Also valid.”

We continue along the path, passing more sculptures of varying comprehensibility. There’s one that’s definitely a fish, one that might be a human figure or possibly a melting candle, and one that I’m fairly certain is just a large rock with a placard next to it.

“This one’s called ‘Persistence,’” Hailey reads, gesturing to the rock.

“It’s a rock.”

“An artistic rock.”

“It’s literally just sitting there.”

“Uh, it’s persisting, obviously.” She grins at me, clearly enjoying my confusion. “Maybe that’s the point. It’s been here for millions of years.”

“Or maybe someone got a grant and decided to see what they could get away with.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m discerning.”

She laughs again, leaning into me as we walk. The contact sends warmth spreading through my chest. This is nice. Normal. Two people walking around a lake, holding hands, making fun of pretentious art.

I could get used to this.

The thought terrifies me. Love is something I’ve only ever allowed myself to view from a distance. It’s not something I thought I was cut out for—not something I ever let myself imagine.

After my parents died, I felt responsible for Emma in a way that had nothing to do with our grandparents. They were loving caregivers who gave us the best childhood they could, given the circumstances. But making Emma feel safe in a world that had suddenly upended life as we knew it—that had abruptly robbed us of our parents, our home, our normal—nothing was more important to me.

Maybe it’s not that I’ve viewed love from a distance. Maybe it’s just that I’ve viewed love as duty. Love is protection in a world full of unexpected impacts.

Emma and I learned early that the life you know can become something totally unrecognizable in the time it takes for an airbag to deploy.

I can only imagine what Tracey Doyle would do with that information. She’d probably tell me that losing my parents at a formative age and assuming a parental role in Emma’s life was some kind of trauma. She’d frame my experiences as a problem to be solved, or the symptoms of a disease only she can diagnose.

No fucking thank you.

So what if I’ve always been different—broken in ways others weren’t? Everything is different with Hailey. Stunning and stunningly competent, cool under pressure, safe. Hailey is a woman who understands how quickly tragedy can strike. She sees it every day at work—probably understood it inherently from her childhood on military bases.

Is this my chance at love and happiness?

We stop near a bench overlooking the lake. The afternoon sun is starting to dip, casting long shadows across the water. Hailey sits down, pulling me with her.

“Can I ask you something?” I say.

“Sure.” She gives me a smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“How are things going with Lars Winters?” I keep my voice casual, but I’m watching her reaction carefully. “Has anything else happened that you haven’t mentioned?”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking out at the water. “Not really. Rachel told hospital security about it, which I’m still annoyed about, but nothing new.”

“Why are you annoyed? That seems like the right call.”

“Because she did it without asking me.” Hailey sighs, leaning against my shoulder. “I know she meant well, but it felt like she was making decisions about my life without consulting me.”

I file that away carefully. She doesn’t want to be managed.

“She’s worried about you,” I offer.

“I know. Everyone’s worried about me. It’s a lot.” She tilts her head to look up at me. “You’re worried, too, aren’t you?”