Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Maddie
Idon’t remember when I start shaking.
Maybe it’s when he slips back into the trees, disappearing like he was never there. Maybe it’s when Ethan lets him go instead of chasing him deeper into the dark. Or maybe it’s now, standing here in the quiet aftermath, the forest settling around us like nothing just happened, like I didn’t just come face-to-face with something I’ve been trying to outrun.
My knees feel weak.
My chest feels too tight.
And my thoughts are too loud, crashing into each other without any sense of order.
“He’s gone now. Take a deep breath,” Ethan says.
I nod. I think I nod. I’m not entirely sure, because everything feels distant, like I’ve stepped half a second outside my own body and I’m watching this play out from somewhere just beyond it.
“He won’t come back.”
Another nod, automatic, empty, and still nothing in my chest loosens.
“Hey.”
His voice shifts, lower now, closer, pulling at my attention.
I blink, forcing myself to focus, and realize he’s moved in front of me again, blocking out the trees, the darkness, the place where everything just happened.
“Look at me,” he says.
I try. I really do, but my vision blurs for a second, my breath catching halfway in my lungs like it forgot how to move.
“Maddie.”
This time his hand comes up, firm and steady, his fingers brushing along my jaw, grounding me, forcing my focus back to him.
“There you go,” he murmurs when my eyes finally lock onto his. “Stay with me.”
I swallow hard and nod again, but it’s shaky.
Everything is shaky.
“I saw him before,” I say, the words tumbling out uneven. “I knew it was him, Ethan. The second I saw his face, I knew.”
My voice cracks, and I drag in a breath that still doesn’t feel like enough.
“Who?”
“It’s him,” I push on, my pulse racing now that the truth is finally out in the open. “My landlord. The one who rented me the cabin.”
Ethan goes completely still.
“People talk about that guy, but no one really knows anything. He keeps to himself, doesn’t come into town unless he has to, and when he does, he watches people like he’s studying them.”
My stomach twists.
“I thought he was just…off,” I admit, my voice dropping. “The kind of guy you avoid, but not someone you think is dangerous. He gave me the lease, barely spoke, just handed me the keys like he already knew I’d say yes.”
Ethan’s hand tightens slightly at my jaw, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep me with him.
“He knew where I’d be from day one,” I whisper.
Silence stretches for half a second, heavy and sharp.
“No,” Ethan says.
“I should’ve—”
“No,” he repeats, firmer this time.
I flinch, not from him, but from the force of it, because it cuts through everything else.
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“Do what?”
“Blame yourself for someone else’s obsession.”
I shake my head, but it’s weak, unconvincing. “You didn’t see him before. The way he looked at me…like he already decided something.”
“I saw enough.”
My breath stutters, because I know exactly what he means, because I felt it too, and it terrifies me in a way I can’t push down anymore.
“I thought if I left…” I trail off, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “If I just got far enough away…”
“He followed you.”
“Yes.”
The word breaks on the way out, because it’s the truth I can’t escape.
Because no matter how far I ran, it didn’t matter.
He found me anyway.
“I made it worse,” I whisper.
Ethan’s expression hardens, something sharp flashing in his eyes.
“You didn’t make anything worse.”
“I ran,” I snap, frustration finally spilling over. “I left you a note and ran like an idiot and walked straight into him. That’s on me.”
His hand tightens slightly, steadying me.
“Stop.”
“I almost let him get close again,” I say, my voice catching, the words scraping on the way out. “I almost didn’t see him in time.”
“But you did.”
“Because you showed up.”
“Yeah.”
The word lands heavy, simple and certain, and something inside me gives way.
Because that’s the part I can’t ignore.
No matter how much I try to hold onto control, to independence, to not needing anyone, he was there. He got to me. He stopped it.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I say, quieter now. “I can’t keep running and pretending I have it handled when I clearly don’t.”
The admission sits between us, raw and exposed.
I hate how it feels.
I hate how much it feels like losing.
Ethan doesn’t react the way I expect. He doesn’t take over, doesn’t push. He just watches me, steady and patient, letting the moment settle.
“For the first time since I got here, I don’t know what to do,” I admit, my voice dropping further. “And I hate that.”
His thumb shifts slightly against my skin, grounding, steady.
“You don’t have to like it,” he says.
“That’s not helpful.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone either.”
That hits harder than anything else.
“I’ve been alone a long time,” I say.