I don’t ask how she knows. She stalks me. Of course, she knows.
“Business info systems. Minored in management.”
She nods. “I’ve never been a big math person. Taking statistics for psychology was hard enough.”
“It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”
We reach the back garden. Her house looms behind it.
I notice a small cottage on the grounds, smoke billowing from the chimney. She catches me looking.
“Thomas lives there. My driver.”
I nod. “Is your father home?”
“No. He’s traveling. Took his new girlfriend on a cruise.”
Even though she has someone living on the property, a hint of worry rolls through me.
What if Silas shows up again?
She’s all alone in that big house.
“Give me your cell phone?”
She blinks at me. “What?”
“I want to put my number in it. In case of an emergency.”
She slips it from her pocket and presses it into my hand. I enter my name and number into her contacts, then hand it back.
“Send me a text so I have yours.”
Her fingers fly over the keys, and then my phone beeps.
I nod toward the house. “Goodnight, Ivy.”
“Thanks for walking me home.” She gives me a warm smile. “Goodnight, Sebastian.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turns and heads through the garden gate. I stand there watching until she reaches the back door. She waves, then disappears inside her house.
I turn and head toward home, debating whether to ask Marcus if he knows a good therapist.
I just walked my stalker home.
The girl I fooled around with on the couch.
The one who swallowed my cum.
If that isn’t grounds for an undiagnosed mental illness, I don’t know what is.
I climb up the steps of the back deck and slip through the patio door.
I should lock it.
But I don’t.
