Chapter Seven Cole
I stand on the sidewalk long after Hailey’s SUV disappears around the corner, my hands shoved deep in my pockets.
The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the pavement, but I barely notice.
All I can see is the way her expression shifted when she saw that note—the flash of fear she tried to hide, the forced casualness of her voice when she insisted it was nothing.
It wasn’t nothing.
My jaw clenches as I replay the moment. The way she snatched the paper off her windshield before I could see it. The defensive set of her shoulders when I pressed her about it. And that slip—creepy patients—before she caught herself.
It’s someone from the hospital. And the way her entire body flinched at the note tells me it wasn’t a thank-you for her charming bedside manner. She felt uncomfortable.
The familiar itch starts at the base of my skull, that hyperaware state where my mind moves through every detail, connects every pattern, seeks every fucking answer.
I force myself to turn away from where her car disappeared around the corner and start walking back toward my office. My phone buzzes in my pocket—probably Jack wondering where the hell I am—but I ignore it.
Don’t look her up. Don’t investigate. Don’t cross that line.
Tracey’s voice echoes in my head, along with Tyler’s warning from our first meeting. We convinced ourselves we had valid reasons for our behavior. Protection. Artistic expression. Academic interest. Professional commitment. Love.
But this really would be protection.
Just like it was for Emma.
Hailey is clearly in some kind of danger, and I have the skills to help her. That’s not stalking—that’s being a decent fucking human being.
I pull out my phone, ignoring Jack’s Did you get her number? text while I pull up a private browser window. It would be so easy to get answers. I could probably have a full picture of the situation in under an hour.
Don’t do it, Cole.
The voice in my head sounds disturbingly like Tyler’s.
I force myself to pocket the phone and keep walking.
…
Hailey and I have been texting all afternoon. Pretty much since the second she woke up. I’ve been avoiding what I really want to talk about, but I can’t take it anymore. The itch to know is eating me alive. It’s taken everything in me not to dig deeper on my own, but I have to know she’s safe.
Cole: Actually, I wanted to ask you something. About yesterday.
The three dots appear, then disappear. Appear again.
Hailey: The note?
Cole: Yeah. I know you said you had it handled, but I’ve been thinking about it. Do you have a home security system? Is that something you’ve put much thought into?
There’s a long pause. I can imagine her on the other side of the screen, debating how much to tell me, whether to keep insisting everything’s fine or admit she’s worried.
Hailey: Honestly? Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I don’t have a security system at my apartment. I didn’t think I needed one.
My pulse quickens at the thought of her completely unprotected.
Cole: Nothing? Smart locks, alarm? Does the building have cameras?
Hailey: Lobby has a camera on the front door. Other than that, just a regular deadbolt and a baseball bat by the door.
A baseball bat. Jesus Christ.
I type carefully, not wanting to sound like I’m lecturing her.
Cole: A baseball bat is a great start for close range, but prevention is also important. Cameras would deter someone from being bold, too. There are some pretty affordable options that are easy to install.
Hailey: I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’m not exactly tech-savvy.
Cole: I could help with that.
I pause, contemplating what to say next. I have a metric fuck-ton of security equipment at my place, but I can’t really tell her that without scaring her off. That’s something future me will have to ease her into. For now, I have to play it cool.
Cole: I can stop by my home security guy’s place and pick up something simple for you. Nothing overwhelming, I promise.
The three dots appear, disappear, appear again. I hold my breath. Please let me help.
Hailey: Would you really? That would be amazing.
Relief floods through me.
Cole: Of course. When works for you?
Hailey: I’m off for four days starting tomorrow morning when my shift ends. But I’ll probably sleep most of the day.
Cole: We could grab dinner tomorrow evening and I can talk you through some options. If you want.
I hit send and immediately wonder if I’m pushing too hard. Am I being creepy?
So she knows I know exactly how forward I’m being, I send a gif of a retro-looking guy fake-yawning and stretching, hooking his arm around a young woman’s shoulders. The woman in the gif traces the movement with her eyes, but a small smile quirks her lips before the video loops.
Luckily, Hailey’s response comes before I can spiral too far.
Hailey: Dinner sounds perfect. Where?
Cole: Your call. What kind of food do you like?
Hailey: I’m easy. Surprise me?
Cole: Challenge accepted. How about 7?
Hailey: Sounds good. Just text me the address, and I’ll meet you there.
I notice she’s choosing to drive herself rather than having me pick her up.
Smart, given whatever’s going on with this patient.
We’re getting to know each other, but she should use full Stranger Danger protocol for now.
It’s what I’d do in her position. Besides, for all she knows, I’ve got a creepy white van hidden in a storage unit.
Cole: Works for me. I’ll find a good spot and text you the details.
Hailey: Looking forward to it. Now I really need to get ready for work before I’m late. ??
Cole: Go save lives. Talk to you soon.
I set my phone down when I realize my heart’s beating faster than it should be. Tomorrow. I’m seeing her tomorrow.
And maybe, if I’m careful, I can help keep her safe without crossing any lines.
I spend the next hour researching restaurants, looking for the right place. Somewhere nice but not pretentious. Intimate but not presumptuous. I finally settle on Antonio’s, a small Italian place downtown.
I make a reservation for two at seven, text Hailey the details, then turn my attention to sorting through the various security systems I plan to show her. I organize everything by category—door and window sensors, smart locks, cameras, full system packages.
It’s thorough. Maybe…too thorough.
My phone buzzes with a text from Tyler.
Tyler: Evening check-in. How’d your day go?
I stare at the message, debating how much to tell him. Jack’s words echo in my brain. Doing the bare minimum and actually working on the problem are two different things. This type of situation is exactly what the buddy system is supposed to be used for…right?
Cole: Good. Making plans to have dinner with someone tomorrow.
Tyler: Nice! Friend or date?
Cole: A bit of both, I think.
Tyler: Anything I should know about it?
This is the moment where I could tell him everything.
About Hailey, about the note, about how I’ve spent too many hours since yesterday resisting the urge to investigate who left it on her car.
About the security presentation that’s definitely more detailed than necessary.
But that would open a can of worms I have no interest in dealing with.
Cole: Nothing major. Just trying to stay in my lane.
Tyler: That’s the goal.
Not feeling the need to keep the conversation going, I set the phone down and pull out the journal Tyler gave me. I should probably document this. The urges, the rationalization—all of it.
Having dinner with Hailey tomorrow to discuss home security. She asked for help, which makes this different from my usual pattern of inserting myself into situations.
But I can feel the pull already. I’ve spent hours researching systems…more research than the situation warrants. I’ve been thinking about her schedule, her apartment, how to keep her safe. I keep telling myself this is different.
The bare truth stares back at me from the page, unvarnished and…unsettling.
I close the journal and lean back on the couch, rubbing my hands over my face. This should be simple. A woman I like asked me for help with something I’m knowledgeable about. We’re having dinner to discuss it and to get to know one another. It’s normal.
So why does it feel like I’m already sliding down a dangerous slope?
Because I know myself.
I know how this starts—with good intentions and a genuine desire to help. And I know how it can end—with violated boundaries and destroyed trust.
But this time will be different, I tell myself. This time, I’m aware. I’ve only done one whole therapy session, but I’m committed to more. I have Tyler holding me accountable. I know the warning signs. I can do this.
I have to.