Page 48 of Jealous Stalker

He moves slow, every thrust a vow. I arch beneath him, matching, meeting, finding a rhythm older than fear and stronger than memory. Our breaths knot. Our names break on our tongues like tide against rock. When release rolls through us—hot, tidal, pure—it feels less like falling and more like flying we never learned to fear.

We stay tangled, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, as the evening hush settles around us. Outside, waves hush the shoreline. Inside, my heartbeat steadies beneath his palm.

Home is not four walls; it’s the echo of your name in someone else’s chest.

He smiles—slight, wondrous, disbelieving. “Tell me you’re real.”

I kiss his scar, as tender as morning light. “Only if you are.”

His laugh is low, cracked open by joy. He pulls the sheet over us, tucks me close, and I finally understand what it means to belong—no masks, no shadows, only truth.

And everywhere I touch him, life begins again.

EPILOGUE

Ella – Somewhere over the Atlantic

Istare out the tiny window, the sky turning from blush-gold to ink-blue, the last trace of sun sliding off the wing like a promise I can almost touch. Clouds stack in layered pillows beneath the fuselage, and for the first time in years, my pulse beats steady—no thrum of worry, no panic fluttering at the edges.

My fingers curl tighter around the note he gave me this morning. The paper is creased now, worn soft at the edges like something I’ve held too many times to count. Caleb’s handwriting covers both sides, dark and certain: “Fly safe, little star. I’ll be your gravity when you land.”

I smooth the fold even though it doesn’t need smoothing, just to feel him under my thumb.

I didn’t need to pack much. A sundress, a dented copy ofPersuasion, and this note. Just this. Just him.

The seat beside me is empty, but I’m not alone. Not really. The air around me hums with the memory of his arms, the echo of his voice when he whispered that dawn-bright “I’m yours.”

Because every part of me feels full—like I’ve finally made space for something I spent years pretending I didn’t need. Something I thought I wasn’t allowed to want.

Him. The man who watched me from the shadows. The man who touched me like I was sacred. The man who took off his mask… and let me love him.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I trace the letters of his name pressed into the page.

Caleb Huntsman.

Even the name feels like coming home—warm porch lights and soft blankets and laughter that doesn’t know how to leave.

I pull out my phone. Open the message app.

Ella:

So… where do we live now?

Three dots appear almost instantly, blinking like a heartbeat.

Caleb:

Anywhere you are.

I bite my lip, blinking hard as warmth blooms behind my ribs. Tucking my knees up to the seat, I rest my cheek on them. The flight attendant passes, offers me a kind smile. I nod back, then glance out the window again.

The clouds stretch endlessly ahead, silvered by moonlight. Somewhere beneath them—waiting—he’ll be there with keys in one hand and possibilities in the other.

No more shadows.

No more pretending.

Just us.

And the life we choose. Together.

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