Page 152 of Texting Dr. Stalker

The explosiveness of his steps. The almost angry look in his eyes.

Self-preservation overrode common sense, and I reeled backward.

Goblin-Milton hissed in my ear.“You’re a tease, and teases get fucked, slut.”

I gasped and almost dropped the plate.

He wrenched to a stop, his gaze flaring. “Shit.” Ripping his glasses off, he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy exhale. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—”

“I-It’s fine. I’m fine.” Breathing hard, I forced myself to stop being so stupid. “It’s not you. Like I said, it’s—”

“Go inside, Sailor,” he snapped, putting his glasses back on. “Enough, okay? You don’t have to make small talk with me. I don’t expect you to be friendly with me. We’re good.” Lowering his chin, he watched me with terribly sad eyes. “I’m good with just being your neighbour, so stop forcing yourself to care about me when it’s only making it harder for you to be around me.”

A stabbing pain appeared right between my ribs. I hated seeing him so tired, so sad. I didn’t know what he’d gone through at work or why he hurt, but…I felt responsible. He’d seen me jumping around him and watched me flee each time he approached me. He probably thought I hated his guts when nothing could be further from the truth.

Hugging the plate, I sucked in a breath and blurted, “I saw you…the day Milton attacked me. I didn’t mean to look through your window, but I did, and he accused me of having an affair, and well…you know what he did.” My voice turned wobbly. “I know you would never do anything to hurt me. I know that right to my soul. I know because I’ve seen you grow, and heard enough stories about you from Nana to know you’re the best guy ever…I’m just…I’m having a hard time telling my nervous system that.”

He couldn’t look at me, keeping his gaze locked on the ground. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“I do. I think…I think I’ve been quite blind the past few years and only just realising that you’ve been there all along. I know I’ve been cold to you and if I’m honest—which I’m doing my best to be—it was partly because Milton always made me feel uncomfortable if I spoke to you, but also because…I think…deep down…I knew I’d made a mistake. That I was looking for a way out the moment I started dating him and didn’t know how to get free.”

His eyes shot up. His throat flexed as he swallowed hard. “I would’ve gotten you out if you’d just told me. I would’ve done anything if it meant he didn’t hurt you.”

Tears stung. “I know you would’ve, and that’s what kills me. I hate that I keep flinching around you. I’m getting better. So much better. I no longer feel the pain of what he did, and I can ignore what he said the more time I spend with you, but sometimes…I still fumble.”

Going to him, I hid my flinch as he stepped away from me. “I just…I’m telling you this so you know it’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s the triggers from the past but theyarefading, and Iamgetting better, and I want to be friends with you. I wasn’t lying about that. Going for a ride with you helped me so much, and I hate seeing you so down.”

You’re doing what you did with X.

I was forcing my help onto a man who didn’t want it. Begging him to let me care when all he wanted to do was get away from me.

That stabbing pain came again. I laughed at my stupidity. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. It’s super egotistical to think you’re down because of me. You’ve probably had a shitty day at work, and it has nothing to do with—”

“Thank you.” He cut me off with half a smile. “Knowing what Milton did to you? It helps. I’m grateful you told me.”

I held his stare. “And I’m grateful you’re helping those triggers fade away.”

Awareness crackled between us the longer we stood there.

My heart skipped for all new reasons. I wasattractedto him. Drawn to him. And I didn’t understand how my body could crave his as if I’d already been in his arms and been kissed by his lips when we’d hardly ever spoken.

Shaking my head, doing my best to get rid of the uncanny sensation of déjà vu, I plastered on a bright smile. “Did you just get back from work?” I eyed the car keys clutched in his hand and the black satchel slung over his shoulder.

Nodding, he raked his fingers through fire-dark hair. “Yeah, it’s been a week from hell. Barely stepped out of the hospital since Tuesday.”

“You do look ready to pass out.”

He sighed and squeezed his nape. “That’s exactly what I plan on doing the second I go inside.”

“Good plan.” Awkwardness settled between us.

“Crime and autobiographies,” he muttered.

“What?”

“The books I read. That and the occasional thriller.”

“Can’t say they’re my cup of tea.”

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