Page 86 of Break my Heart

For trying to prove a point.

All I’ve done is freak the fuck out of myself.

I quicken my pace, gripping the straps of my backpack tighter, as if that’ll somehow anchor me. The glow from campus begins to fade as I enter the residential area where I live. Greek row is right around the corner. Tons of parties take place here every weekend. But tonight is Tuesday, and it’s quiet. There’s not a soul on the street.

I peek over my shoulder again.

There’s no one.

But that doesn’t stop the odd sensation of being watched—followed—from invading my brain.

As I reach the next block, I realize that Hayes’s house isn’t far. It’s closer than my apartment.

I’ll stop there.

Even if he’s not home, I can collect my scattered thoughts and rein in the terror flooding my bloodstream.

If I’m lucky, one of the girls will be there, and I can cajole them into driving me back to my apartment.

This exercise in trying to take a little control back from Nathan has totally backfired.

It’s also made me realize just how paranoid I’ve become.

As loath as I am to bring him up to my parents, maybe it’s time to tell them what’s going on. For my own personal well-being and mental health, I can’t live like this.

I walk faster, my breathing ragged from the cold air and the adrenaline spiking through my veins. As soon as the two-story blue Victorian comes into view, relief crashes over me.

Thank fuck.

I race across the front lawn before taking the rickety porch stairs two at a time. By now, I’m huffing and puffing. With my heart hammering in my chest, I press the doorbell and glance around. Other than the sound of passing traffic from a street over and the lone cry of a cat, there’s nothing. But still, I can’t shake the odd sensation that someone is stalking me from the shadows.

My Spidey senses are on high alert.

Is it nothing more than a trick of my imagination?

That’s the problem.

I don’t know.

And I’m unwilling to take a chance and find out.

Fear threatens to swallow me whole as I shift from one foot to the other. When there’s no response, I rap the beveled glass with my knuckles. The lights are on, and music and laughter can be heard from inside the house.

Just as I raise my hand for a second time, the front door swings open, and Bridger Sanderson stares back at me from the other side of the threshold.

A chin lift accompanies his greeting. “Hey.”

I glance past him, hoping to spot Hayes inside. “Hi.”

With a tilt of his head, he narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you Coach’s daughter?”

I blink, thrown off by the question. “Um, yeah. Ava.”

“Right.” He doesn’t move from where he’s planted in front of the door. “So… what brings you to the hockey house, Ava?” Extra emphasis is placed on my name.

I shift my weight, feeling the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. “Is Hayes here?” As casual as I’m trying to sound, a thin waver threads its way through my voice.

Bridger crosses his arms over his chest as his brows shoot up. “You’re here to see Hayes?”

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