Page 69 of Stalk Me

“That’s a risk in any relationship, Luna. People grow and change. The question is whether you’re willing to allow that growth—for both of you—or if you’ll keep him at arm’s length because you’re afraid of what might happen.”

Her words hit with uncomfortable precision. I’ve been holding back, keeping parts of myself walled off even as Erik offers all of himself to me. Not because I don’t care for him—God, I care so much it terrifies me—but because I’m afraid of what happens when he sees all of me and decides it’s too much.

“I don’t know how to let someone love me,” I confess, the words barely audible over the rain. “I don’t know how to trust that they won’t use it against me.”

“Perhaps that’s where we need to focus our work,” Dr. Marshall suggests. “Not on erasing your past—that’s impossible—but on building a future where trust is possible again.”

“How? How do I do that when everything inside me is screaming that it’s not safe?”

“One step at a time.” She sets her notepad aside. “Let’s start with something concrete. What’s one small thing you could do this week to let Erik in a little more?”

I consider the question, thinking of all the ways Erik has tried to reach me, all the times I’ve pulled away. “There’s a benefit next weekend for a survivors’ advocacy group. David’s team asked if I’d attend—not as a speaker or anything, just to show support. I was going to go alone, but…” I pause, gathering my courage. “Maybe I could ask Erik to come with me. As my date. Officially.”

It seems like such a small thing—we’ve been together through a kidnapping, a rescue operation, and the dismantling of a criminal enterprise. Yet somehow, asking him to accompany me to a public event, acknowledging what we are to each other in front of others, feels monumental.

“That sounds like a meaningful step,” Dr. Marshall says. “How does the idea make you feel?”

“Nervous. Exposed.” I take a deep breath. “But also… like maybe I’m ready to stop hiding. At least with him.”

She smiles, a genuine warmth in her eyes. “That’s progress, Luna. Real progress.”

The session ends, and I step out into the rain-washed streets of Boston, pulling my coat tighter around me. Erik is waiting in the coffee shop across the street, exactly where he said he’d be. He spots me through the window, and his face lights up. That same smile that has become my anchor in the storm of the past months.

As I cross the street to meet him, I think about what Dr. Marshall said about trust being built one step at a time. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can’t undo years of manipulation and abuse overnight, but I can choose, in this moment, to walk toward someone who has proven over and over that he won’t hurt me.

Erik stands as I enter, concern etched on his features. “How was it?” he asks, pulling out a chair for me.

Instead of my usual noncommittal shrug, I take a deep breath and give him the truth. “Hard. We talked about the arrests. About you. About us.”

His eyebrows rise slightly at the last part, but he doesn’t press. “Do you want to talk about it now, or would you rather wait?”

In that question is everything that makes Erik different from anyone else in my life—the space he gives me, the choices he offers without expectation or manipulation.

“Actually,” I say, reaching across the table to take his hand, “there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

Moving Forward

The Boston skyline glitters against the night sky, a constellation of lights that once seemed as distant and unreachable as the stars themselves. From Erik’s and my new apartment balcony, the city looks peaceful, ordinary—a world away from the courtrooms and depositions that have consumed our lives these past months.

I wrap my hands around my coffee mug, letting its warmth seep into my fingers. Even in early summer, the evening air carries a chill. Or maybe that’s just me, my nerves making me shiver despite the mild temperature.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Erik slides the balcony door closed behind him, handing me a soft throw blanket before taking the chair beside mine.

I smile, draping the blanket over my legs. “My thoughts are worth at least a dollar these days. Inflation.”

“Hmm.” He pretends to consider this. “How about a dollar and this?” He pulls a small white bakery box from behind his back, opening it to reveal a chocolate cupcake with a single candle.

“What’s this for?” I ask, genuinely confused. It’s not my birthday, and we don’t have any anniversaries I’m aware of.

Erik lights the candle with a match, the tiny flame casting shadows across his face. “Six months since the raid. Six months of freedom.” His eyes meet mine, serious now. “I thought that deserved some recognition.”

The realization hits me like a physical force. Six months since David’s team stormed my parents’ mansion. Six months since we were rescued from what was meant to be my introduction to society and Erik’s indoctrination. Six months of building a new life from the ashes of my old one.

“Make a wish,” Erik says softly.

I close my eyes, feeling childish yet strangely hopeful, as I blow out the candle. When I open them again, Erik is watching me with that expression that still makes my heart stutter—like I’m something rare and precious, something he can’t quite believe is real.

“What did you wish for?” he asks.

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