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The cops come and go, taking their sweet time to tell us the same useless crap Ryder was afraid of hearing: “There’s not much we can do right now. We’ll file a report and see if there’s anything else we can do. Let us know if anything else happens.”

Like what? A fucking brick through the window? This creep breaking in?

I want to hit something—preferably whoever thinks it’s fun to mess with Ryder. But first, I need to know who the hell it is so I can properly direct my anger.

I pace the living room, too restless to sit down at this point, and Ryder is sitting there silently on the couch, clutching his phone in his hand. He hasn’t said much since the officers left, and I hate the withdrawn look on his face.

Ryder’s usually the happy-go-lucky one with his bright smile that makes you smile back just from seeing it. He radiates a fun, carefree energy that is absent from him right now. He looks truly defeated after that last email, and seeing him like this isn’t right. He’s always been oneto roll with the punches. He lets things slide off his back, and even helps my stressed-out, color-coded-calendar, everything-in-its-place self truly relax. I’ve seen him laugh off hate comments, ignore weird DMs, and brush off the judgmental looks a few assholes in this town have thrown his way for narrating queer romance books. He never lets that shit touch him, though. It’s like he knows exactly who he is, and nothing anyone says or thinks can shake that.

But this is the first time I’ve seen him truly rattled. Even when he’s talked about his dad, it’s like his leaving barely fazes him. Ryder’s always been someone who can look at things objectively, understand and accept them for what they are, and move on. So seeing him like this? I’m furious.

I’m pissed at whoever is stalking him, angry for Ryder, and upset that he’s going through this. I clench my fists, forcing myself to breathe through the emotions that are surfacing right now as I think more and more about this situation and how it’s affecting him. This person wanted to wedge their way under Ryder’s skin and make him start questioning everything as he comes undone, and it’s working, even though I’m desperate to stop it.

I’ll do whatever it takes to help him rebuild those parts of himself brick by brick if I have to, because Ryder is mine. My best friend. My anchor. My whole fucking world. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone break him apart.

I walk over to him and drop down next to him, taking his hand in mine. “Hey, you doing okay?” I ask, even though I know it’s a pointless question.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, glassy and tired. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ry. I’m not expecting you toput on a brave face. It’s okay to be scared and upset,” I say, my thumb brushing gently across his knuckles.

He huffs out a breath, leaning back against the couch cushions like the weight of everything is finally catching up to him. “What do you want me to say, Loge? That I’m freaked out? That I feel like someone’s watching me every second? That I don’t know how to make the spiraling thoughts stop?”

“Yeah, Ry,” I say simply. “I want you to say all of that. I don’t want you to hold this in and let it eat at you alone.”

He lets his eyes meet mine, and the distraught expression on his face breaks my heart.

“I just…I don’t get it. Why me? I’m nobody special.”

My chest tightens at that. “That’s not true. You’re so special to me, Ry. I care about you more than anyone in the world,” I say firmly because it’s true. Well, alongside my parents, but we don’t need to get technical here.

“As for why someone’s doing this,” I continue, “I don’t know. I mean, I think they’re trying to tell you that you’re special too, but they’re doing it in the most fucked up way possible. We’ll figure this out, though. I promise we will. And when I find out who it is, I’ll make sure they regret thinking they could ever come after you because this isn’t okay.”

Ryder swallows hard, and he nods. “I don’t even know where to start,” he murmurs, and his voice is so small, I want to pull him into me and never let go.

“Well, good thing I’m forcing you to stay here with me so I know what’s happening every moment of your life,” I say, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Another good thing is that I’m great at overthinking and making plans.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and I feel the tiniest flicker of relief. Humor has always been our default, and it’s saved us more than once.

Especially after the whole shower situation.

“Overthinking really is your specialty, huh?”

“Absolutely, and step one of this particular plan is that we stick together. Where you go, I go. No exceptions. Got it?”

He smirks. “Even to the shower?”

I freeze for a second, completely thrown off by the words that left his mouth. Did he just—? In this high-stress situation?

No, no, I definitely heard that right.

My brain completely blanks as I try to come up with a response. Because really, what the helldoyou say when your best friend, who you’ve finally admitted to yourself that you’re lowkey in love with, makes another casual joke about the shower?

The shower where I jerked offin front of him,tothoughts of him.

“Uh…” is all I say, and his face breaks into a smile. I’m not even mad because this is the lightest I’ve seen him all day, despite the blush I can feel crawling up my cheeks. “You don’t fight fair,” I manage to get out, and he laughs.

I blow out a breath, trying to compose myself, and when he stops laughing after a moment, his face gets more serious. “I had to, but thanks, Logan, for you know…all of this. I don’t think I could handle this on my own.”