Page 27 of Stalkers Anonymous

I can see the war waging behind his eyes—the desire to push, to protect, to fix this. But he’s holding himself back, and I appreciate that even as part of me wants him to insist, wants someone else to carry this weight for a moment.

“Okay,” he says finally. “But promise me something.”

“What?”

“If anything else happens—if you feel unsafe—you’ll tell someone. Rachel, the police, me, someone. Not because you can’t handle it, but because you shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight and the tears in my eyes push forward once more. “I promise.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. “And I’m still going to text you.”

Despite everything, I smile. “I’m counting on it.”

We stand there for a moment, neither of us quite willing to break away. The note in my pocket feels like it’s burning through the fabric, but I can’t stop watching Cole. He’s looking at me like he wants me to stay as badly as I wish I could.

He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. But I don’t want to.

His fingers are gentle as they brush a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. His thumb lingers, tracing along my cheek and then my chin, the touch sending shivers down my spine.

I lean into his palm without thinking, my eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. When I open them, he’s watching me with an expression that makes my breath catch.

“Drive safe,” he says quietly, his voice rough. If ever a man was holding himself back from leaning in for a kiss, this man is. I can’t decide if I want him to go for it, or if I want to part ways feeling edged…

There’s only one way to find out.

“I will,” I manage, the words coming out breathier than I usually sound.

His hand drops, my skin prickling with cold once his warmth is gone. For a second, I think he might do it—lean in, kiss me, let me taste him.

But he doesn’t.

He steps back, putting distance between us, and I recognize it for what it is. Restraint. Respect.

Cole Matthews is a gentleman. I file the knowledge away to consider later. What does it look like when a man as composed as Cole allows himself to lose control? Would he ever even let that happen? My mind drifts, finding darker, steamier answers to that question than I first intended.

“Text me when you get to work?” he asks. “So I know you got there okay?”

“Cole—” My face is hot, but I force myself to meet his eyes.

“C’mon, Hailey. Throw Hiking Emergency Guy a bone?”

Though he’s trying to keep the moment light, I want to argue, want to remind him that I’m independent and capable. But the genuine concern in his eyes stops me, and the way my name rolls off his tongue so easily, like he’s been practicing it…

“Okay. I’ll text you.”

He gives me one more long look, then steps back. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

I slide into the driver’s seat, and he waits until I’ve started the engine and buckled my seat belt before he raises his hand in a small wave. I watch him in my rearview mirror as I pull away, standing there until I turn the corner.

Only after he disappears from view do I let myself breathe.

My hand moves to my pocket, fingers brushing against the folded paper to confirm I didn’t imagine it. The paper is real.

I’m watching you.

A chill runs through me, settling deep in my bones as disquiet grips me from the inside.