Page 13 of Jealous Stalker

It’s like someone had pulled it down for me. Like someone knew exactly what I was going to reach for when I wandered into the kitchen this morning. Like they’ve anticipated a comforting need I haven’t told a single soul.

I stared at it.

I definitely should be telling someone. Calling the police. Texting Jules that I think I’ve got a…problem.

Abigproblem.

But instead?

I touched the mug with my fingertips. Then the tin of cocoa. The spoon. Let myself imagine big, calloused hands doing the same thing. Preparing this tiny detail just for me.

Someone’s been in here, in my home, my sanctuary. While I was sleeping walking, totally exposed and all but dead to the world.

I should be terrified.

But I’m not.

Not even a little bit.

CHAPTER 6

Ella

“He wassohot.”

I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed onto the couch, cheeks still burning from the encounter I just had.

My roommate, Jules, popped her head out of the kitchen, brows lifting. “The VA center guy?”

I nodded, suddenly shy, curling my legs under me. “Yeah. Tall. Rough. Like…he’s been through things, you know? Not in a scary way. Just…like he knows stuff other people don’t.”

Jules snorted. “So basically, a haunted, broody, sexy veteran?”

I giggled. “I mean, yeah. Pretty much.”

I didn’t tell her the rest. Didn’t mention the way his eyes followed me like he knew me. Like he’dalreadymemorized me. Like he’d touched me before—just not with his hands.

Didn’t say how his stare made something low in my stomach twist deliciously. Or that when I passed him, his body tensed, like it physically hurt him to let me walk by.

Nope. Didn’t sayanyof that.

And definitely didn’t bring up the other thing.

The weirder thing.

The maybe-it’s-nothing-maybe-it’s-something that’s been haunting the back of my mind.

The sleep-mode alarm IknowI set being off in the morning. The washed mug. The cocoa and the spoon.

Little things. Unsettling. But… not threatening. Somehow.

Ishouldbe freaked out. Should be telling Jules that I think someone’s been in our apartment.

I don’t tell my roommate because a part of me doesn’t want to chase it away. She’ll want to call the cops. They’ll probably want to investigate although with the crime rate these days they may just half-ass it and then drop it.

Either way it might disrupt this…thing I’m feeling. Which is an absurd, possibly dangerous way to get my kicks but dammit.

It’s thrilling.Electric. Like the moment before thunder cracks, when the air is tight and charged and anything could happen.

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