Page 7 of Their Obsession

“Helping,” the friend gives a pointed look down at my tented pants. “Right.”

“I promise, I had no ill intentions. But I can be on my way, if you’re good, Doc?” I turn back to face Lilly, who is blushing profusely. She’s so sweet. I want to savor every second I get to spend looking at her. She hesitates for a second, as if she might ask me to stay.

“It’s okay, you’re off the hook.” I’m about to argue with her about her burden but she cuts me off. “Plus, Coach will kick your ass if you miss practice.”

She’s not wrong. Our GM is determined that this is the year we win the cup, so Coach has been relentless with us. Our motto this year is ‘Mindset of a Winner,’ whatever the hell that means.

“Alright. Well, I’ll leave my cell number on your counter. Text if you need anything, Doc,” I tell her as I back away towards the door.

Her friend swoops in, grabbing a towel to cover Lilly up, as if I didn’t already see everything. I’d be annoyed at her presence if she wasn’t acting so protective. My girl needs someone to protect her and take care of her. And soon enough, that person will be me.

FOUR

Lilly

“So wait, explain again why you’re not interested in climbing that jacked up defenseman like a damn tree, because I think I missed something?” Emily teases as we lounge on my couch.

“Emily,” I admonish her as I pop another Sour Patch Kid in my mouth. They’re my favorite candy and my best friend was nice enough to order all my favorite treats while I finally showered. I’d texted her to tell her I got hurt at work while I started the shower after I got home, and I guess she decided to head over. “He’s a player. Do you know how awkward that would be?”

“No. I really don’t see the problem with letting that eager little beaver stuff your muffin,” she counters as she pulls the soft throw blanket up higher around her shoulders.

I can’t help but burst out in laughter. “Stuff my muffin? That doesn’t even make sense. You don’t stuff muffins, you idiot.”

“Shows what you know,” she quips as she rips off another biteof Red Vines with her teeth. “The pumpkin muffin I always order is stuffed with cream cheese, just like you need to let that man stuff your muffin with his cream.”

We both stare for a minute before busting out laughing. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts and I can barely breathe. I double over with tears pricking my eyes. It’s as though all the stress of the day is channeled into my manic laughter. I suddenly feel a thousand times lighter than I have in a long time. This is why Emily has been my best friend for nearly two decades, since elementary school. She’s more like a sister than a friend, really. She even moved all the way out here to Southton with me when I landed this job. It’s a good thing I have her, because I’d be completely alone otherwise. She’s my best friend but also my only friend. I can’t let anyone else get too close. It’s too risky.

“He’s still on his rookie contract.” I manage to choke out as my giggles start to recede. “He’s probably too young to even get a drink at a bar. I don’t need a child to take care of.”

“One,” she states, leveling me with a serious look. “From what I saw, he was the one taking care of you. And two, I Googled him while you were in the shower. He’s twenty-three, perfectly legal. He’s also six-foot-one, one hundred and ninety-eight pounds. He was born in—.”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupt her, not needing his entire life story. “I get it.” I grab another handful of Sour Patch Kids out of the bag. I eat the yellow and orange ones first, leaving the red and blue ones, my favorites, for last. The green ones I leave in the bag. No sane person likes those.

“So, what’s the issue?” she prompts in that tone that means she’s not going to let it go.

I pin her with a glare. “Youknowwhat the issue is, Emily. This kid is nice, wholesome, and caring. I can’t expose him to the shit that haunts me.”

I put down my bag of Sour Patch kids, having suddenly lostmy appetite completely. Anytime I get even remotely close to thinking about him it causes my body to spiral towards a panic attack. My chest constricts and my heart rate skyrockets. It took years to get to a place where I could even think about some of those memories without spiraling.

“Lil, it’s been nearly a decade. He’s moved on.” She lets out a sad sigh. She was with me through all of it, sat up with me as I cried my eyes out for days, weeks. “You should too.”

I wish it were that easy. I wish that I was free of the demons from my past but I don’t think that’s reality. I’ll never be free. And as much as I’d love to have a carefree fling with a hot hockey player, the thought of putting him at risk makes me feel sick.

“Remember what happened last time I tried to move on?” I ask her, even though I know she knows. She was there when the man I dated for a few months in college suddenly went missing, only to be found stabbed to death, floating in the lake by campus.

That’s when the panic attacks started again. Someone had killed him. Another man had mysteriously met his end, all because of me. I vowed never to date again after that.

“Babe,” her tone is soft but certain. “That was years ago. He lives in a completely different city. There’s no way he’s still stalking you. Plus, the police never were convinced that—” she stumbles, remembering I can’t handle her saying his name. It’s too triggering. “That he was involved with that in any way.”

I don’t dare tell her the truth of everything that happened. If she knew the truth, she’d never look at me the same way again. She can never find out what really happened between me and my masked man. I still feel his presence lingering in my life. Sometimes I swear I catch him in a crowd or hear him whisper my name while I’m at the grocery store. Every time I sleep, I’m wracked with nightmares of his cold, dark eyes peeking out from a curtain of dark hair. I have no doubt he’s still watching me, despite the years and distance. I’ll never be free of the boy thatstole my heart and then broke it into a thousand pieces.

“Maybe you’re right,” I concede in order to get her to drop the subject. “I’ll think about it.”

A wide smirk pulls at the corners of her lips. She looks like a cat that got the cream. “I’m so glad you feel that way because while you were in the shower, I may have taken matters into my own hands.”

“YouWHAT?!” I holler, throwing off my blanket and pushing to my feet. “What did you do?” I grit out.

“Look,” she starts, raising her hands in surrender. “Don’t freak out. He was nice, helpful, and was clearly very into you if his pants tent was any indication.”

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