Page 23 of Texting Dr. Stalker

“How dare you look at him. How dare you think he could ever want someone like you!”

It took every ounce of courage not to run back the way I came.

How had this happened?

How had Iallowedthis to happen?

In one awful moment, Milton had ensured the world switched from a happy place full of nice people to a terrifying place full of danger. And the one man Nana had drilled into me who would always be there for me if I ever needed help was the reason it all happened.

Dropping my gaze, I held up the tower of cellophane to hide my face and darted like an idiotic mouse onto the street, past Alexander and Josephine, and straight to Jim’s house.

I didn’t stop until I practically bolted through his back door.

I trembled as the old man dressed in a plaid suit and wire-rimmed spectacles hauled himself out of his chair and lumbered to let me in.

And I threw myself into thanking him with fierce hugs, wordless gratitude, and a huge piece of peach upside-down cake. I also gave his dog Biscuit a million cuddles, so I didn’t have to think about Alexander North, his wonderful care to young and old, and the fact that I didn’t think I could ever make eye contact with him again.

* 8 *

Zander

Not My Place

MY HEART FISTED FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME.

I couldn’t get the image of Sailor scurrying across to Jim’s house—with her arms full, eyes red from crying, and hair a mess—out of my head. Her white summer dress was perfectly appropriate for the hot weather we’d been having, but the splodges of blacks, purples, and greens down her arms and shoulders made my guts clench.

He’d hurt her so badly.

He’d put his hands on her in ways that shouldneverbe allowed.

And instead of joining Josephine and me in a light-hearted neighbourly conversation by the mailbox, she’d looked at me as if I was the one who’d hurt her.

The flash of fear in her eyes. The splash of shame on her cheeks. She’d hunched and bolted as far away from me as possible. Every instinct surged to chase. To follow her to Jim’s door and ask her if everything was alright because it obviously wasn’t.

But…

Ugh.

…not my place.

If the very notion of talking to another man after what one psychotic monster had done to her sent her scampering for the closest hidey-hole, then how the hell did I think I could help by forcing her to be in my vicinity?

She visited Jim.

That thought stopped me short.

She’d vanished into his house and not come out for an hour. Long enough for me to pace a polished line over my living room floorboards and look out my front window far more times than I wanted to admit.

I’d forgone a shower even though that was the only thing I’d dreamed of as I’d driven home after a long shift. I ignored my stomach rumbling for food. I cursed the scratchy anxiety in my blood as it grew and grew until I found myself reaching for my door handle only to yank my hand back and pace again.

Now it was seven p.m., and I hadn’t seen any lights come on in her house.

What if she was alone in the dark and drowning in awful thoughts?

What if she wasn’t coping?

Should I call Lily and tell her to go over there?

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