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Logan glances over and takes my hand. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Truly the dream we’re living,” he deadpans.

We get out of the car and walk to the front door. As I turn the key, I hesitate for a second before pushing it open. To my relief, everything looks the same, but something still feels off, even though I’m sure it’s probably in my head.

My eyes scan the living room like I’ve never seen it before, searching for anything that looks out of place or wrong. But everything looks to be exactly how I left it. Or close enough that I can’t tell it’s different.

Logan is standing beside me, doing his own sweep of the space. “Looks the same to me,” he says after a beat. His voice is calm, but his shoulders are tense like he’s waiting for something to jump out at us.

“Yeah,” I say, though nothing about this feels particularly fine. It’s almost worse that everything looks untouched, as if the danger is hiding just out of sight.

“I’m gonna check the office.”

Logan nods and falls into step beside me as I head down the hallway. The floor creaks under our feet like it’s warning someone we’re here, which is insane because this ismyhouse, though it doesn’t feel like it right now.

The door to my office is ajar, which is probably how I left it. Slowly, I push it open and step inside. My desk is still adisaster of books, notes, and the coffee mug I left from the last morning I was here. It’s all exactly how I remember it, and I keep reminding myself that’s a good thing.

“Nothing looks out of place,” I confirm to Logan.

He steps in behind me, his hand brushing my arm, and it settles something in my chest. “Let’s check your desk anyway,” he says, peering at the mess. “You know, just in case the stalker decided to alphabetize your sticky notes.”

I snort. “Sorry, I didn’t deep clean after being emotionally terrorized by my stalker.”

“Oh, I’m not judging,” he says, lips twitching, clearly judging.

“Insult my desk again and I’ll make you organize it,” I warn.

He leans in a little, voice dropping just enough to be flirty. “You know I’d doanythingif you ask nicely.”

I look at him, raising an eyebrow. “This feels like the strangest version of foreplay.”

He huffs out a laugh at that. “Is it weird that I’m kind of into it?”

I shake my head, trying not to laugh as I turn back to the desk. “You’re crazy.”

“And yet, you still want me.”

“I do, and that seems to be the real mystery here,” I mutter, reaching for a stack of papers while he chuckles behind me.

He’s probably not wrong to check my desk; it’s a mess, and this person is obsessed with my work.

Wanting to get this over quickly, I start sifting through all my papers, and then my fingers freeze because there’s no way I’m seeing what I’m seeing right now.

Tucked beneath my keyboard is a folded piece of paper with my name written on it in black ink.

“Logan, please tell me you put this here as some sort of fucked up prank,” I beg.

But he didn’t, I know he didn’t. I’ve never seen this handwriting before, and it’s not his. My pulse starts pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

The paper is in my hand, and I don’t want to unfold it. I don’t want to read the words on the inside, but I have to. Logan comes over and wraps his arm around my waist, steadying me.

I finally get the courage to open it, and it feels like someone knocked the wind out of me as I start to read.

“You sound so perfect when you read to me in here. But soon, you’ll be able to read directly to me—no more mics or distractions. I have a special place just for us. We’ll be together soon. Everything’s falling into place.”

The room tilts, and I’m convinced the floor is truly opening up below my feet, swallowing me whole. My knees go weak for a second, and Logan’s grip on me tightens before I lose my balance entirely.