Page 29 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

Chapter Twelve

Jack

Trying to act cool and collected while your palms sweat isn’t easy. I wipe my hands on my jeans for the third time, hoping Chloe doesn’t notice. She’s mentioned having a stalker more than once. She’s noticed her walkway being cleaned. And me entering the same bar she entered was pushing things too far. And after watching her last night... everything has changed. Everything.

I saw her videos. I can see what she’s favorited. I can see everything and all her hidden kinks. And fuck me... they are the same as mine. If Dark Secrets were a dating app, we’d be a match.

But I’m fucking up. I’m getting too close.

Am I hoping to get caught? Because I’m acting really fucking careless right now.

“A stalker to shovel your snow huh?” I say as I chase my question with my beer. “Most people would consider that a good thing.”

“I’ve been getting this feeling lately. And I heard noises...” she says. “Last night I freaked myself out and—” She shakes her head. “Clearly I was overreacting since you just admitted to doing my walkway.”

“You live in a safe neighborhood,” I add, “And it was windy last night. But make sure you lock up and keep your eyes open just in case.” I feel like an absolute creep. I’m the cause of her distress, and I’m trying to play it down like it’s nothing.

Then tension in her shoulders relaxes a bit, but I can still see doubt lingering in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction.

I need to change the subject, and fast. “So, tell me about your Christmas plans. Anything fun planned? A trip?”

She sighs, taking a sip of her whiskey and grimacing.

“Not really,” Chloe says, setting down her glass. “Holidays aren’t really my thing.”

“No family to visit?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.

Yes, I already know the answer to this question, and I feel like an asshole bringing up a painful topic, but I need to take a huge step away from familiar. I feel as if I’m getting too close to being caught. I need to play the perfect stranger role. I need to ask all the “normal” questions a man who knows nothing about a woman would ask.

Chloe shakes her head, a glimmer of sadness crossing her face. “Not anymore. It’s just me.”

Guilt stabs at my gut as I see the pain present. As much as I want to tell her that I know more about her family situation than I should, I can’t let on.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, reaching out to touch her hand briefly before pulling back. “The holidays can be tough when you’re on your own.”

She nods, her eyes distant. “Yeah, it’s... it’s not easy. But I manage. What about you? Big family celebration planned?”

I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Nah, I’m a bit of a lone wolf myself. Probably order some Chinese food and watch terrible Christmas movies.” Wanting to give her a little more, I add, “My mother loved the holidays when she was alive, but now that it’s just me...” I shrug. “You know.”

“Was she your only family?”

“Yeah, and when she died, I bounced around as a kid does in that situation, but Christmas was never the same.”

Chloe’s eyes soften, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of genuine empathy. “I’m sorry about your mom,” she says quietly. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to celebrate when the people who made it special are gone.”

I nod, surprised by the sudden lump in my throat. I hadn’t meant to bring up my mother, but something about Chloe makes me want to open up. “Yeah, it is. Sometimes I think about trying to recreate those old traditions, but it feels... empty.”

She reaches out, her fingers lightly brushing against mine. The touch sends a jolt through me, and I have to resist the urge to pull away. I’m not used to this kind of gentle contact, especially not from her. As if she senses my discomfort, she pulls away and reaches for her drink again.

“I lost my parents a little over two years ago,” she admits. “Car accident we were all in. Things haven’t been the same since.”

I know, I want to say. I want to admit that I was the one working the scene that night. That I was the firefighter who pulled her parents’ bodies from the wreckage. That I held her shaking hand as I got her into the ambulance. That I went to the hospital after my shift to check on her and have watched over ever since.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating.” The words feel hollow, inadequate. I want to tell her everything, to confess that I was there, that I’ve known her pain intimately since that night. But I can’t. It would ruin everything.

She nods, blinking rapidly. “It was. Still is, sometimes. But life goes on, right?” She attempts a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

I nod sympathetically, keeping my expression neutral despite the turmoil inside me.

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