Page 70 of Stalk Me

“Can’t tell you. Then it won’t come true.”

He laughs, the sound warming me more than any blanket could. “Fair enough.”

We share the cupcake in comfortable silence, watching the city lights wink on and off in the buildings below. I think about how far we’ve come since that night—the trials, the therapy, the slow, painstaking process of building something new from the wreckage of our lives.

“The sentencing is tomorrow,” I say finally, setting down my empty mug. “For my parents.”

Erik nods, his expression sobering. “Are you going?”

“Yes.” The decision had been difficult, but ultimately clear. “David said that the judge asked if I wanted to speak in front of everyone. I suppose, in a way, he’s trying to give me a chance at closure, to tell them things without being afraid or interrupted. At first, I said no, but then I changed my mind.”

“That’s okay,” Erik says, reaching for my hand. “You do whatever you need.”

His thumb traces circles on my palm, a gesture so simple yet so grounding. After six months, he still asks before touching me, still watches for signs of discomfort, and still gives me the space to say no. The irony isn’t lost on me—I’ve spent my whole life with people who took without asking, and now I have someone who asks without taking, and sometimes it still terrifies me.

“I had a dream last night,” I tell him, the words catching in my throat. “About Munich.”

Erik stills, his hand tightening slightly around mine. He knows what happened there, knows how they broke me down and rebuilt me into what they wanted. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not—I mean, it wasn’t like the usual nightmares. In this one, I went back there. On my own. And I walked through those halls, and I looked at all those machines and drugs and…” I swallow hard. “And I wasn’t afraid. I was just… done. Like it couldn’t hurt me anymore.”

Erik’s eyes, storm-gray in the dim light, study my face. “What do you think that means?”

“Dr. Marshall says dreams about confronting trauma can be a sign of healing.” I look down at our intertwined fingers. “That my brain is processing what happened, trying to make sense of it.”

“Do you believe her?”

The question is gentle, without pressure or expectation. That’s what I love about Erik—he never tells me how to feel, never assumes he knows better than I do what’s happening in my own mind.

Love.

The word surfaces from somewhere deep inside me, no longer a frightening concept but a simple truth I’ve been carrying for months now. I love Erik Stone. I love his steady presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s stood beside me through this nightmare without once making me feel like I owe him anything for it.

“Luna?” he prompts when I don’t answer his question. “You okay?”

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air between us, unexpected yet somehow inevitable. Erik’s eyes widen, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

“You don’t have to say it back,” I add quickly, suddenly uncertain. “I just—I needed you to know. After everything, all these months of me keeping you at arm’s length, pushing you away when things get intense… I thought you should know why I’m so scared. It’s because I love you. And loving someone has always been the most dangerous thing I could do.”

Erik sets down his mug carefully, then shifts his chair to face me fully. “Luna Queen,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, “I have been in love with you since that day on the cliff. Probably even before that, if I’m being honest with myself. I’ve just been waiting for you to be ready to hear it.”

My heart hammers against my ribs, a fluttering bird trying to escape its cage. “Really?”

“Really.” He raises our joined hands, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I love how brave you are. I love your strength and your resilience. I love that, despite everything you’ve been through, you still have this capacity for kindness that takes my breath away.” His eyes hold mine, unwavering. “I love you, Luna. All of you. The parts that are healing and the parts that are still broken.”

Tears blur my vision, hot and unexpected. I’ve cried more in the past six months than in all the years before combined—as if my body is making up for lost time, releasing all the emotions I kept locked away for so long.

“I’m still a mess,” I warn him, my voice thick.

“I’m not exactly the poster child for stability myself,” he reminds me with a small smile. “We’ll be messes together.”

I laugh through my tears. “That’s very romantic.”

“I’m serious.” He reaches up to brush a strand of hair from my face, his touch featherlight. “Luna, I don’t expect you to be magically healed. I don’t expect our relationship to be like everyone else’s. What we’ve been through, what you’ve survived—it’s extraordinary. All I want is the chance to keep loving you through whatever comes next.”

His words surround me like a shield, protecting me from the doubts that still whisper in my darkest moments. For months, I’ve been waiting for him to realize what he’s signed up for and walk away. But Erik isn’t walking away. He’s walking toward me, eyes wide open, seeing all my damaged pieces and loving me not despite them, but because they helped shape me.

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