The sobs came fast and hard, shaking through me as I clutched the strap of my bag, tears running hot down my cheeks.
Garrett’s voice kept replaying in my head, looping until I couldn’t tell if it was his voice anymore or my own.
You’re Matty’s stalker.
I pressed my palms to my eyes, wishing I could scrub the words away, wishing I could make it all stop.
But nothing stopped. The words burrowed deeper, twisting into images I couldn’t shut out.
Like Matty’s face when he found out.
I could see it so clearly it hurt. The confusion first, then the horror, the betrayal. The way his mouth would harden, howhe’d take a step back like I was something dirty. Like he’d never known me at all.
He’d leave. Of course he would. He’d probably get a restraining order or have someone from the team handle it, making sure I never came near him again.
My chest constricted. I slid down the wood until I was kneeling on the floor, the door the only thing holding me up.
I couldn’t bear to see that look on his face…the disgust, the revulsion. I wouldn’t survive it.
I pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound of my crying, but it didn’t help. The thought of him walking away, of knowing what I’d done and seeing me as nothing but the thing Garrett had named me—it split something deep inside me, like a seam tearing open that I didn’t know how to stitch back together.
Freak.
That’s what he’d think.
My mind spiraled, frantic, clawing for a way to keep him.
Chain him to the bed. Hide the key. Tell him it’s a game until he believes it.
Drug his coffee. Just enough to make him drowsy, pliant. Drag him into his bedroom. Lock the door.
Get pregnant. Now. Before Garrett can talk to him. He’d never leave a baby.
Cut the brake lines on his truck. Not to hurt him—just to strand him here. With me.
Burn the dorm down. Force him to take me in. Forever.
I rocked on the floor, knees to chest, nails digging into my scalp.
He’ll hate me. He’ll leave. He’ll never touch me again.
“What’s got you so upset, pretty baby?”
An unmistakable voice cut through my spiral like a lifeline.
My whole body went still. The sob caught in my throat, my hands falling uselessly to my sides. For a second, I thought I was imagining it. I had to be. He couldn’t be here—hecouldn’t.
I slowly turned…and there he was.
Matty lounged on my bed like he belonged there, back against the headboard, legs stretched out, one ankle hooked lazily over the other. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on me calmly.
He was lying right under my shrine.
The glossy corners of photos caught the light—the snapshots, the printouts, the scraps of newspaper clippings, the candid shots I’d thought were safe. Something white was streaked on the photos, dripping down the orange hat, sliding down the wall.
My breath hitched.
He tilted his head, watching me with a kind of quiet amusement that I didn’t understand. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but there was a heat behind them, a dangerous calm that made the air feel too thin.
