Page 95 of Stalkers Anonymous

Is this what happens when you have one stalker—you start seeing red flags everywhere?

“Hmm,” I hum, though I think it’s a strange assumption, and it doesn’t sit well with me.

We finish dinner, both of us clearly aware that something has shifted. The easy flirtation from earlier has been replaced by more careful, measured conversation. Cole pays the bill despite my protests, walks me to my car, and kisses my cheek with the same gentle affection as always.

“Have a good shift,” he says, his hand lingering on my arm. “Be safe.”

“I will. See you soon?”

“Definitely. Text me when you get home in the morning?”

I nod, but as I drive toward the hospital, my mind is spinning with questions I don’t want to ask. How does Cole know my schedule when I don’t remember telling him those details? How does he know when I exercise?

And why am I only noticing this now?

Maybe because I was too busy being charmed by his face. And his arms. And the way he looks at me like I’m the most important person in any room.

Stupid handsome men with their stupid handsome distractions.

The emergency department is moderately busy when I arrive—the sweet spot between “boring” and “absolute chaos.” I’m relieved to see Rachel behind the nurses’ station, her red curls pulled back in a messy bun, reviewing patient charts.

“Hey, stranger,” she says, looking up with a grin. “It feels like forever since we’ve worked the same shift.”

“I know. How’s the physical therapy clinic treating you?”

“Good, but the hours are weird. I miss working with you regularly.” She studies my expression more closely, her grin fading. “Everything okay? You look like someone told you your favorite show got canceled.”

I consider deflecting, but Rachel knows me too well. She’d see right through it, then pester me until I cracked anyway. Might as well skip the annoying middle.

“Can I ask you something? About Cole?”

Her eyebrows rise with interest. “Hot Cybersecurity Guy? Of course. What’s up?”

I glance around to make sure no one is listening, since the last thing I need is to give the gossip hounds something to salivate over. “We went to dinner tonight. He said a few things that left me feeling kind of weird.”

“Like what kind of things?”

“My work schedule. When I run. Little details that felt too specific to be lucky guesses. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid because of all the Lars Winters stuff.” I’ve kept Rachel apprised of all the gruesome details via text. She offered to let me stay with her after the brick incident, but I have Chewy to think about, and my dad’s insidious refrain in my head. Strong girls don’t get scared. They just get stronger. The brick through the window was fucking terrifying, but it doesn’t mean I’ll let Lars Winters scare me out of my own home.

Rachel’s expression grows serious, her brows furrowing. “Hailey, if your gut is telling you something is off, why aren’t you listening to it? You’ve always had great intuition.”

“I don’t know. I could be overthinking it. Seeing red flags where there aren’t any.” I rub my temples, suddenly exhausted. “It just left me feeling like something was off between us.” I’ve never been one to second-guess myself, but the facts feel slippery, like I can’t quite grasp the truth no matter how hard I try to hold on.

“What exactly did he say?”

I recount the conversation, and as I speak, Rachel’s frown deepens.

“That’s actually really concerning,” she says quietly. “Do you think he’s following you?”

“But why would he? He helped set up my security system. He’s been nothing but supportive and protective—”

“Hailey.” Rachel’s voice is gentle but firm. “Stalkers often present themselves as protectors. It’s literally one of the most common patterns. Like, Stalking 101: Introduction to Obsessive Behavior. But it’s also entirely possible you’re just super tired and not thinking clearly because of your other, way less low-key stalker. Maybe you did tell him and you just don’t remember?”

The word “stalker” hits me like a freight train. “Cole’s not a stalker. We’ve gone on multiple dates. We’ve had sex, Rachel. Good sex. Really good sex. There’s no reason for him to stalk me when he has all the access to me he wants. It doesn’t add up.”

“I’m happy for your orgasms, but that doesn’t mean something isn’t off.”

“I can’t have two stalkers. That’s like getting struck by lightning twice. It’s statistically improbable.”