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7

MADISON

M y leg muscles pump harder, pushing me faster, as I run through the woods. The smells of the forest, the brisk air hitting my face, the glint of the sunshine cutting through the trees, casting an ethereal glow over the area. All of it should relax me, easing my stress, but it doesn’t. Normally, running in nature gets me out of my head, but not today.

Today, I’m bothered by Ben and Chloe leaving me alone mere hours after my dad’s funeral without so much as a goodbye. Not bothering to wake me up to see if I wanted to stay in my childhood home. Although I’m well aware both of them know I haven’t been sleeping well, it seems a minor courtesy to expect that my best friend and/or my boyfriend would stay with me.

I’m bothered by my mom’s coldness, which is more obvious than ever, further emphasizing my loss. If the situation was reversed, there’s no way in hell that my dad would have left me to go to work. Nor would he have talked about giving me my mom’s car like that was supposed to make everything better. It’s not a consolation prize. As much as I love my dad’s Mustang, fond memories of us cruising in it filled my head the second my mom brought it up.

But the thing that bothers me the most is the stalker guy outside my window this morning. Not just because I feel confident, though I have no evidence and only my gut instinct, that he was the one with the piercing stare boring into me after my dad’s funeral, watching as I walked to Ben’s car. And again last night when I escaped to the restroom, although I didn’t see anyone, I swear I felt him . Which is so fucking weird, considering I have no clue who he is. Or why he’s stalking me.

I should be scared of him, the way that cocky stare was so full of possession as he stared up at me, arms folded across his muscular chest. Although I couldn’t see his eyes, he mimicked my movements, confirming he was watching me.

I’m the daughter of two police detectives and I have a boyfriend. I should not be titillated by this random stranger stalking me. I should be fearful and pissed, not aroused by his presence.

My hands clench into tight fists as my feet pound against the dirt trail through the woods. Jesus, Maddie, pull your shit together. Stop being fascinated by your stalker and worry about why he’s following you . A shiver runs through me as I think, or what he might do if he gets his hands on you .

Running faster, I try to avoid analyzing my reaction to why I’m so stimulated by the mere thought of his hands on me. Don’t think about it. It’s a response to stress and grief. That’s all.

Slowing my pace, I glance up as a bird frantically flies from a tree, startled by my sudden presence. Lowering the volume of the music playing through my earbuds, I slow my pace, before coming to a complete stop. My skin prickles from awareness, the hair standing on my arms and neck, a warm shiver traveling up my spine.

He’s here. I feel him.

Pulling my phone from my running tights, I pretend to mess with it, then whip around, eyes frantically darting around. My breath heaves from my lungs from exertion and anticipation, my tongue poking out and darting across my bottom lip.

But I don’t see him.

My gaze combs the woods, searching. I still feel him. I know he’s here, although I don’t see him.

Sliding my phone back inside the pocket of my tights, I take a cautious step forward, then another, heading in the direction I just came.

Come on. Show yourself.

But all is silent and still.

I know it’s not me, dammit. He’s here, lurking in these woods.

Fine, we’ll play it your way, stalker boy.

Turning around, I resume running, darting glances behind me at random intervals.

I run my typical route through the woods, and by the time I break through the tree line into my mom’s backyard, I still haven’t seen him.

Though it’s wrong, I feel defeated and frustrated that I didn’t see him. I planned to confront him, demanding he tell me why he was stalking me.

Stop this nonsense. Get ready for your date with your boyfriend.

“ B en… Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

A long stretch of silence hangs between us as he digs his spoon through his ice cream dish, swirling it around and not eating it.

“Ben? Did you hear me?”

Finally, his sapphire eyes look up, locking on me. “I’m sorry, Maddie. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay. You seem distracted.”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Sorry. It’s just…” He runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up.

That’s unlike him. Something is really bothering him.

His nonchalant tone breaks through my thoughts. “Just some minor stuff. I don’t want to bore you with it right now.”

Ouch . I wince at his words. “Ben, I—”

“Sorry, Maddie. I shouldn’t have said that.” He draws in a long breath, then lets it out. “It’s just minor and I know you’re grieving. I don’t want to put anything else on you right now.”

Reaching over, I lightly touch his hand. “The distraction might be good for me right now.” Plus, I’m not a weakling. I’m stronger than you’re giving me credit for . “It seems all I’ve done is think about my dad.” The slight tremble in my voice betrays my emotions and I utter curse words beneath my breath.

He flips his hand over, squeezing mine. “Maddie, don’t worry about it. Really, it’s nothing. But I appreciate you asking.” Ben gives me his charming smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So, your dad left you his Mustang, huh? I’ll bet you can’t wait to drive it.”

Despite knowing he’s deflecting and distracting me, I animatedly talk about the memories in Dad’s car. He laughs when I tell him my dad let me race a guy last year, but I make him promise he’ll take that secret to his grave since my mom still doesn’t know about it.

The rest of the date went well, but that unsettled feeling returned when we got in his car. My stomach twists in knots as the thoughts in my head taunt me.

First, he and Chloe left you last night and stayed at the apartment—alone. Now, he’s distracted and won’t tell you about it. Could there be a connection?

Turning my head to gaze out the passenger window, my body stills, stunned when I meet a pair of onyx eyes. They bore into me intently, causing goosebumps to erupt over my skin. But it’s the angry look on the guy’s face that makes me feel like someone just threw me into icy lake water. There’s a look of betrayal in his flashing dark eyes like I did something wrong.

I can’t tear my gaze away, even though I tell myself I should. I’m captivated, pulled under his spell, as I blink rapidly, trying to figure out who the hell he is.

Could it be?

Breaking eye contact, my gaze trails down his body, stopping as awareness jolts through me. He’s wearing a dark hoodie beneath a leather jacket.

My eyes narrow as I picture the guy standing beneath my bedroom window. He was wearing a dark hoodie beneath a leather jacket, just like this guy. My gaze rakes over the rest of him, then back to his lips, which now smile sardonically at me.

It’s him. That fucking smile.

I can’t breathe as he holds my gaze, that intense, possessive stare penetrating my very soul. Trembling in my seat, goosebumps flaring over my body, tiny shockwaves lighting up my nerves, I tell myself to look away. To break whatever strange, magnetic hold he has over me.

But I don’t.

It’s him who is the one to break it when his eyes flick over to Ben, a look of disgust twisting his lips. My breathing is erratic, nervousness causing my muscles to twitch as I reluctantly turn my head to Ben, scared he’s going to be staring at me, red-faced from fury, demanding to know who the hell the strange guy is that I’m staring at.

Not that I know anything about the stranger, but still.

But Ben is oblivious, typing something into his phone, lips curled in a smile. I cock my head, studying him, unease making my stomach tighten in knots. Why does his smile seem flirtatious? My brows lowered. What the hell is going on? Who is he texting?

Ben lifts his head, a warm smile on his face as he turns to me. “I’m glad we got ice cream. I missed you. Why don’t we head back to your mom’s house? Then you can bring the Mustang home later.”

A delicious thrill goes through me. He’s looking at me the way in a way he hasn’t since my dad died. The way he used to look at me before grief stole my smiles.

“That sounds great.”

As we back out of the parking space, my gaze moves to where I saw my stalker, or at least, I’m pretty sure he’s my stalker. He’s glowering at me, arms folded over his chest.

Is he mad about Ben? He has no claim over me.

And why do I care that he’s pissed about me being with my boyfriend?

As though the asshole can read my thoughts, his lips pull into a smug smile. Narrowing my eyes at him, my anger increases when his smile grows wider until it covers his handsome face, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

Fuck. An illicit thrill courses through me. Curling my hands into fists, I dig my nails into my skin, commanding myself to stop staring at him. To sever whatever this fucking weird connection is between us.

Slowly, my eyes slide from his smile and dimple to his eyes. He winks at me, and my breath hitches, my panties becoming damp.

What the fuck, Maddie?

Closing my eyes, I count to five, then open them. When I look in his direction, he’s hurrying across the parking lot. For a minute, I wonder if he’s going to follow us.

Preposterous, Maddie. Why would he stalk you when you’re with Ben?

As we drive away, he vanishes from my view. The last glimpse I had of him was his powerful leg muscles straining beneath the denim fabric, the baggy sweatshirt and leather jacket unable to hide the broadness of his chest. I’m fairly certain if he took off his jacket and sweatshirt, he would be ripped, all brawn, sinewy muscle leading to a V taper.

Dammit, Maddie. What the hell was in that ice cream? And why am I sweating, thinking about him smiling at me, dimple popping, while he’s shirtless?

My heart beats like a drum inside my chest as I lean back in my seat, feeling like the worst fucking girlfriend in the world.

I need to make it up to Ben when we get to my mom’s house. Force the stalker guy from my thoughts, never to return.