Page 64 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Never looking away from me, her face obscured by shadows, she nodded once.

Trusting her with my life—literally—I slowly pulled my palm away and moved to the opposite end of the sofa. Perching on the end, I kept as much distance between us as possible. Raising my hands, I made a show of surrendering before clasping them together between my spread legs.

She didn’t say a word, watching me with an intensity that made me itch. “W-What are you doing here?” She touched her lips, rubbing where I’d touched her. “How did you get in?”

And this was the moment where I should come clean. I should give the truth instead of walking a bridge made of lies. It wasn’t a bridge—it was a crocodile-filled chasm with the thinnest, breakable tightrope keeping me afloat.

One wrong answer and I’d destroy my career, her sanity, and whatever relationship we’d had over the years.

Clearing my throat and deliberately making my voice extra low, I said, “I know where you keep the spare key.”

She frowned. “You know from watching me?”

“Yes.” I rushed to add, “But don’t change the location just because I know. It’s handy for emergencies.”

“And you thought barging into my house at two in the morning was an emergency?”

I scowled, focusing on the bruises still framing her black eye. “You were screaming.”

“No, I—” She went to argue but then sucked in a breath. “Wait. I was?”

I almost said ‘it woke me up’ but that would be a sure clue to who I was. Thinking on my feet, cursing my exhausted brain, I lied, “I was walking past. I heard you.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, okay.” Sitting taller, she curled her bruise-mottled legs beneath her as she turned to face me. “You just happened to be strolling around the streets at this time.” Leaning forward, she studied me. “Try again. No lies, remember?”

Nervousness had my fingers touching my mask, making sure it was still in place. I tugged my hat extra low, dropping my stare, hoping she couldn’t see a damn thing in the dark.

Fucking hell.

I needed to figure out a way to get out of here before she saw right through me.

“I, eh…” I gulped. I wasn’t cut out for this. I wasn’t good at deception. I’d always cracked under pressure if Gran ever asked if I did something wrong. Most of the time, I confessed to all kinds of misdeeds, even if it was my two sisters’ fault, just because I couldn’t handle interrogation.

Panic fisted my heart; the truth burned my tongue.

I tugged the bottom of my scarf, a second away from yanking it off and telling her everything. Wouldn’t it be better to tell her now? Before we got even deeper into whatever this was?

Had she felt the same tingly rush when I’d admitted I had a crush on her? Just the act of writing it down, after decades of denying it, had made it far too real. It fucking hurt to think of ruining that feeling, thanks to lies and deception.

You’re the reason she’s black and blue, remember? He beat her because of you.

“Do you want help removing that?” She raised an eyebrow at where I fiddled with my balaclava. “Why are you hiding? Does it really matter if I see your face?”

Removing my hands, words I hadn’t even thought of spilled free. “I promised you the ability to share everything to a faceless stranger.” I shrugged. “This is me faceless. I’ll keep it on.”

“And if I want you to lose the hat and mask?”

“Then I’ll leave and message you later.” I stood, noticing I was barefoot.

Fuck, how could I explain that?

Not only was I out for a walk at two in the morning but without shoes?

Goddammit.

Rolling my shoulders, I waited for her to figure out that my bedroom was one fence over and put a restraining order on me.

Turning to go, I muttered, “Now I know you’re not in danger, I’m leaving.”

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