Page 97 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Just trying somewhere new,” I manage, my voice sounding like it belongs to someone else. Someone who isn’t currently having a full-on internal crisis. “What about you?”

“Meeting a client nearby. I figured I’d grab coffee first.” He gestures to the empty chair across from me. “Mind if I join you?”

I should say yes. Smile and welcome him and pretend that seeing him here is a delightful coincidence instead of confirmation of my worst fears.

Instead, I hear myself saying, “Actually, I was just leaving.”

Disappointment flickers across his face—genuine or performed, I can’t tell anymore. “Oh. Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just tired. Long shift.” I’m gathering my things with shaking hands, shoving my tablet into my bag with none of my usual care. “I’ll text you later?”

“Of course. Drive safe.”

Cole steps toward me, but I instinctively take a step back, trying to brush it off like I didn’t notice him move in my direction. Part of me feels bad, but I need distance. I can’t allow myself to get lost in the scent of him or the way he holds me when we’re hugging. I can’t let him distract me when I’m trying to process what’s happening.

I practically flee the coffee shop, my heart pounding as I reach my car. In the rearview mirror, I can see Cole through the window, still sitting at the table I vacated, watching me drive away.

Four days.

I changed my routine for four fucking days. Went to a completely different part of town. Told absolutely no one. And somehow, Cole showed up at the exact coffee shop where I was at the exact time I was there.

Meeting a client nearby.

It could be true. Fort Collins isn’t that big. Coincidences happen. That park ranger got struck by lightning seven times, didn’t he?

But I don’t believe him.

As I drive home, my mind races through a thousand thoughts. If Cole is following me, how long has it been going on? Since we met? Since our first coffee date? Was our entire relationship built on him knowing exactly where I’d be and creating ways to “accidentally” run into me?

The meet-cute on the hiking trail.

The coffee shop.

The way he always seems to text at the perfect moment.

How much of what I thought was fate was actually him pulling strings?

And why? What does he want? He already has me. We’re dating. We’re sleeping together. What’s the point of continuing to track my movements when he could just…ask where I’m going?

My phone dings with a text as I pull up to my apartment.

Cole: Are you sure you’re okay? You seemed upset at the coffee shop.

I stare at the message, torn between the genuine concern in his words and the growing certainty that nothing about our relationship is what I thought it was.

Hailey: Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow.

His reply is instant.

Cole: Sweet dreams, beautiful. I hope you get some rest.

The message is sweet. Thoughtful. Exactly the kind of thing a caring boyfriend would send.

Also exactly the kind of thing a stalker would send.

How is this my life?

Inside my apartment, I lock the door and lean against it, trying to process what’s happening. Chewy scampers over to greet me, and I scoop him up, grateful for his unwavering love and affection.