Page 36 of Three Months Yesterday

“Okay,” I rush to say, wanting to stop him before he can say anything else. “I changed my mind, I don’t want to know the specifics. Just tell me if this gets us any closer to figuring out who my stalker is.”

“Unfortunately, we aren’t. Whoever it is stayed off the cameras. Every single one of them.” The words are clipped, and I can easily imagine Ian getting ready to head to the gym so he can work out his frustration.

“How?”

“I don’t know, Beck, but this changes things. Either your stalker has a lot more skill than we thought or they’ve got someone on your team helping them.”

“You don’t think it could be someone on staff at the building?”

“It’s possible, but they didn’t just make it into the secure area of the building, they had a key to your apartment.”

Lights start to show from the windows at Madison’s, and I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to what this means for my stay in Stonebridge Hollow.

“If I stay here, am I putting this town in danger?’” Am I putting Madison in danger?

“That depends. Was there anything in your apartment that would tell someone where you went?”

“No. Nothing. I never even looked the place up. Ryan gave my number to Wyatt, and I only texted with him about it.”

“You’re positive? You didn’t have a brochure? You didn’t write the address or name of the place down?”

I give myself a moment to think, but the answer’s easy. I didn’t have a reason to write anything down. “No. Wyatt sent me the name and address in a text. I looked up the directions on my phone and then put the address into the GPS on my 4Runner. There’s no paper trail.”

Ian’s quiet, and I have no doubt he’s analyzing everything he knows about the situation, wanting to make sure he gives me the best advice he can. His job is to protect me, but just like I’d never forgive myself if something happened to someone because of my actions, he’d never forgive himself if he told me to stay and someone else got hurt.

“For now, you’re probably safest staying where you are, but we’re going to increase our check-ins, and you have to be careful with where you go and what you do around town.”

“Are you saying I can’t leave the cottage?”

“No,” Ian rushes to say. “But pay attention to who’s paying attention to you.”

The scoff that slips from my throat isn’t intentional, but I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to. I’ve been in town for over a week and I’ve made it a point to be seen in town every day. I figure the more people see me the less of a curiosity I’ll be, but so far that logic hasn’t been working.

“Ian, I wish people didn’t pay attention to me⁠—”

“But that’s not who you are,” Ian interrupts, finishing my thought for me. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Eventually the star power will wear off.”

“Hopefully,” I murmur, my eyes trained on the front door of the house across the way.

I’d never forgive myself if anyone in my vicinity got hurt due to some crazy stalker, but for someone like Madison—a woman more selfless than I’ve ever met—I don’t know what I’d do.

“I’m gonna let you go. Digest everything for a bit. Call me later if you need to talk more, but I want to hear from you tomorrow, no matter what.” Ian’s words are firm, no room for argument, not that I was planning to.

“I will,” I mutter absentmindedly. My thoughts entirely focused on the woman next door.

I don’t want her to be in danger, but I’m not ready to pull away from her either.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

With my second cup of steaming coffee in my hands, I curl up in the armchair next to the front window, my eyes falling to the stack of boxes against the wall.

I knew it was a bad idea to box everything up when I first found the treasures in the crawl space, but I needed to dedicate time to truly go through everything. This was our family history. Journals, letters, and mementos from people long gone.

Going through everything while renovating meant something wasn’t going to get the attention it deserved, and Mark was already frustrated with how long the rebuild was projected to take. Boxing everything up was the only smart choice, but five months later and outside of moving the boxes into the house, I haven’t touched them.

Standing from the chair, I make my way to the stack, gently setting my cup on top of a box. My heart rate picks up as I pull a box open and I can’t understand why.

Maybe that’s not entirely true. History has always been the one subject to grab my attention and hold it, but to have the chance not to learn just about history, but one that directly impacts me and my life is a whole new ballgame, one I can’t wait to enter.