Page 69 of Texting Dr. Stalker

X:I can’t seem to tear myself away. Stop being so dazzling.

I really ought to have been offended. He’d not only violated my privacy, but taking photos of me as well?

Does he look at them when he’s not watching me?

Did he think of me when he—

Stop right there.

Too late.

An image of him spread out on a bed, cock in hand, toned body on display, exploded through my mind. The only piece of clothing he wore was that damn mask, and I wanted to yank it off so I could see him biting his bottom lip as he self-pleasured.

You need professional help.

“Hey, Sails. Sails! Earth to Sailor Moon!”

I jumped high enough to fumble with my phone. It flew from my hands and clattered into the last few vials of essential oils.

“Oops. Sorry.” Lily snickered. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.” She waved at a pretty young woman with an equally pretty daughter clutching at her jeans. “This lovely customer wants to know if you have anything that can help with eczema?”

I smiled at the shy girl before nodding at the mother. “I do, actually.” Grabbing a particular tincture that Nana had spent years perfecting—thanks to her own battle with itchy, dry skin—I passed it to her. “This is medium strength, but I can make up a stronger batch if it’s not enough. It’s all natural with no side effects.”

“Oh wow.” The woman grinned. “That’s so nice of you.”

I left Lily to handle the sale, ever so grateful she’d agreed to help today. When I’d told her I was braving the big bad world and heading to the market, she’d cancelled her three open homes and insisted on being my honorary shopkeeper.

She’d tried to meet me at my place to help me load the endless boxes of face cream, night cream, lip balm, tinctures, essential oils, and other goods made from my garden into my pop’s ancient Honda Civic, but I’d laughed her off and said she needed her beauty sleep and to meet me at the local showgrounds where the market was held.

I hadn’t told her why I’d forbidden her from coming to my house.

I didn’t want to admit that I’d gotten up at three a.m. knowing it would take me that long to pack the car, thanks to the trembles and panic that kept attacking me at the very thought of leaving. I couldn’t pretend that I was okay, and I didn’t want her seeing me like that.

I’d only had the strength to get through it because X had messaged around five in the morning.

X:Are you running away?

Me:No, just trying to be normal and get back to routine.

X:And that includes packing your life into a car, why?

Me:I’m going to the market. To sell my flower concoctions.

X:Ah, in that case. I know what I’ll be doing today.

Before I could reply, he’d sent another one.

X:By the way, you’re doing amazing. I know it isn’t easy to fight your natural instinct to hide away, but you’re incredible and strong, and I’ll be watching you. You’re safe.

I’d repeated his words over and over, especially when the tears stung, and the urge to throw up in the camellia bush latched around my throat. I wished he’d been with me as I’d finally driven away, fighting debilitating jitters all the way to the market.

Dawn had cast the showgrounds where the market was held in pink and gold by the time I’d received his next message.

X:You got this. Fake it till you make it. You know I have your back if you’re a little unstable. You can talk to me about anything.

And then, I’d been too busy to think, let alone be afraid.

Little by little, customer by customer, the agoraphobia that’d slowly been restricting my life loosened its claws and let me breathe.

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