Page 107 of Stalkers Anonymous

I watch her do the math. All of it at once. The timeline. The coincidences, the ones I staged and the ones I didn’t. The moments I showed up. The things I knew that I shouldn’t have.

“How long?” Her voice has gone flat. “Since when?”

“Since he keyed your car. It got worse when he came to the hospital.”

“Have you been following me?”

“No.” I lean hard on the word, because it’s the one piece of this I can say confidently. “Only him. Only ever him. I swear on my sister’s life.”

“You swear on your sister’s life.” The laugh comes out broken. “The sister whose ex-boyfriend you beat unconscious? Jesus, Cole.”

“Hailey, please—”

“I don’t know what to do with this.” Her voice shakes. Her hands are trembling. “I don’t know what to do with you. You lied to me. You could have cost me my career. And I’m supposed to feel better, I guess, because you did it out of—” She cuts herself off, but we both know what she almost said. You did it out of love. Neither one of us is ready to hear that. “Because you say you wanted to keep me safe.”

“Hailey—”

“It doesn’t feel better, Cole. It feels worse.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Hailey. I do.”

She closes her eyes, and a lone tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

“I need space,” she says, and the words land as hard as a slap. “I need time to think about all of this, and I cannot do that with you standing in my hallway telling me about your fucking support group.”

“Hailey—”

“Please, Cole. Just leave.”

Every cell in my body begs me to stay. To explain more. To find the right words that will fix this before she walks back inside and closes the door between us. Maybe for good.

But the reality is, the right words don’t exist. I don’t think they ever did.

I take a step back, giving us both room to breathe.

“Okay,” I say, lifting my hands in defeat. “Okay. I’m going.”

Her eyes open, and I can see the surprise there. Like she expected me to fight her, which almost makes it sting worse. I want to fight for her. I do. But I also know I need to respect this boundary after I steamrollered all the other ones, if I want a sliver of a chance at saving this.

Saving us.

“I’ll give you whatever space you need,” I say. “All of it. However long it takes. When you’re ready—if you’re ever ready—” The prospect that she may never be chokes me where I stand. I swallow against a lump in my throat. “I’m here. And if Lars comes back, you call me. Please promise me that much.”

She stares at me for a long second. Then she nods. It’s one small motion, but it’s enough.

“Okay,” I say again.

I step back another foot. Tyler is already a few steps down the hallway, giving us the closest thing to privacy a public stairwell can give.

“Hailey,” I plead while I wait for her to look at me. “Whatever you decide. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

She nods again, another tear falling down her face, and then she closes the door.

The deadbolt clicks on the other side.