She’s at the counter, her chin in her hand, smiling like a woman in love. The barista is leaning on the counter with his forearms flat on the surface, listening to her with rapt attention.
I slow down, watching my foster sister for a moment.
She laughs at something and tips her head, and he watches her do it with an expression I recognise. I’ve seen the same look reflected in Kat’s window. Damn, she looks like she’s got it bad for this guy.
A surge of protectiveness hits me, and I shove it back down. She’s an adult, and she doesn’t need me lurkingaround judging her relationship. Kat’s the one who needs me right now.
But still, something doesn’t sit quite right looking at the two of them together.
I push it down. He must have something that she likes. Ellie is pretty and bubbly. I can see in an instant why he would fall for her. But what she sees in the slim guy with the plain face… I don’t know. Not that I can talk, I’m not even willing to show Kat my face in case my scars make her baulk.
He looks up and catches me staring. Our eyes meet for a long moment through the glass.
He looks away first. Goes back to Ellie, saying something that makes her laugh.
I head for my girl, but the unease follows me the whole way to Kat’s door. I can’t explain what’s bothering me.
But the moment I see her face, the rest of the world and its problems disappear. When I’m near her, it’s like she’s the only light, and everything else fades unless it’s close to her.
TWENTY-EIGHT
KAT
Another full weekpasses with no sign of the stalker.
I can only hope that whoever it is has found something better to do.
Ellie comes home humming with the most delicious-looking chocolate cake from the coffee shop, and it feels like I can breathe again.
I’m on the sofa with my laptop and a cold cup of tea, and I look at her over the screen and raise an eyebrow.
‘Don’t,’ she says, unwinding her scarf.
‘I haven’t said anything.’
‘You were about to.’
‘I was about to say you look nice,’ I say. ‘Which you do.’
She drops onto the sofa beside me after grabbingtwo forks, opening the plastic cake box and putting it between us. ‘I think I might be falling for Sam.’
‘What do you think it is about him that’s suckered you in?’
I still can’t see it, and it also kills me that I’m hiding my own relationship, but how do you tell your best friend you’re dating a masked man who likes to track you?
‘He’s so sweet. And he doesn’t pressure me like most guys do. We haven’t even slept together yet, because he says he wants to take it slow.’
I love sex far too much to imaginethatbeing a pro in a relationship.
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘It can be a bit frustrating sometimes. But we lie on the sofa and make out for hours sometimes, and it’s kind of nice that it gives me the same excitement I felt when I was still a teenager. When sex was off the table, and we poured all that horniness into just learning each other’s bodies and minds.’
I love making out as much as the next woman, but I don’t know how she isn’t ripping her hair out.
‘Isn’t it frustrating?’ I ask.
There’s a bit of hesitation in her face that belies her enthusiasm. ‘Sometimes. But it’s different, and that’s exciting. My vibrators are just getting a heck of a lot more attention. It’s nice to feel like he’s not just in it to fuck, though. I’ve had my fair share of those.’
