Page 67 of Stalkers Anonymous

The words come out more vulnerable than I intended. Hailey’s expression softens, her gray eyes warm.

“I really like you, too.”

“Even though I landed us in swamp water?”

“Especially because of that.” She rises on her toes to kiss me. “I was thinking about it, and I’m starting to wonder if you and Jack weren’t in on it together. Did you do that on purpose to get me in the shower?”

“I would never,” I say, crossing my hand over my heart like the Boy Scout I’ve never been.

“Hmm.” She pulls back, assessing me through squinted eyes, then glances at her watch and sighs. “I need to head out soon. Shift starts at six, and I still need to grab dinner from the cafeteria and mentally prepare for whatever chaos awaits.”

The disappointment is immediate. I want more time. I always want more time with her. “Twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours of medical glamour.” She makes a face. “I’ll probably spend half of it convincing drunk people that no, they don’t actually need a CT scan for a stubbed toe.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“It’s a non-stop party.” She squeezes my hand. “This was really nice, though. I needed it.”

“Me, too.”

We walk back toward the parking lot, and I try to focus on the warmth of her hand in mine instead of the growing awareness that she’s about to drive off alone.

The parking lot is emptier now. Two cars besides ours. A jogger finishing her lap. A guy sitting in a sedan near the exit, looking at his phone.

I study the sedan guy for a beat too long. Wrong build for Winters. Different car. But the positioning is strategic—good sight lines to the trailhead, easy exit onto the main road.

Stop. It.

Hailey notices, because of course she does. “Cole.”

“What?”

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you assess every human in a fifty-foot radius as a potential threat.” She’s smiling, but there’s a gentle warning in it. “The guy in the sedan is probably just waiting for his wife to finish her jog. He’s sitting there because he wanted a clear view of her while she ran.”

How did I miss that?

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

I don’t have a defense for that, so I just shrug. “Old habits.”

We reach her car, the duct tape as much a reminder of the ugliness it hides as a cover for it. My jaw tightens involuntarily.

I force the thought down and focus on Hailey, who’s fishing her keys out of her pocket.

“I’m getting a rental within the next few days,” she says, unlocking the door. “They didn’t have any available before my appointment to get it buffed out, so it’s this or nothing. It’ll take a few days to repaint, too.”

“It’ll be nice to drive something different for a while. He won’t be able to find you so easily.” I hate the words as they leave my mouth. They’re too harsh. Too real.

She kisses me, her hands coming up to frame my face. Her mouth is soft at first, then more insistent. When she pulls back, her eyes are warm and kind despite the rawness of my words.

“Thank you for today,” she says. “The walk, the deeply cynical art commentary, all of it.”