Page 58 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

She’s still wearing Walker’s necklace, and she hesitates holding his sweatshirt. I will her not to put it on, but it’s also armor. I can’t blame her for wanting protection, or her hesitation. The double-edged sword sits heavy in her hands.

After a long moment, she tugs it over her head.

The black fabric hangs on her slim frame, the sleeves too long for her, too. She pushes them up to her elbows and tucks the necklace in, hiding it from sight. Her long dark hair is in a crown braid, and only a few strands came loose from putting it on.

I let out a sigh.

Once she’s gone, striding down the street with purpose, her backpack on both shoulders and her head held high, I leave my brownstone and slip into hers. I have a copy of her key, so the semantics on whether it’s breaking and entering—or just entering—could be debated.

A frantic call to maintenance about her stove being left on secured me entrance while she was at school one day, and I took the spare she had in her kitchen. Once it was copied, I replaced it.

She never noticed.

She hasn’t noticed when I’ve been in here this past week either, but that’s going to change. I want her to feel my presence. Not the Carter Masters she associates with currently, but the darker side of me. The one who wants to pull at her until she comes apart.

What she has begun to sense, however, is that I’m following her. She glances around more, double-checking over her shoulder.

It’s a long, drawn-out hunt.

Poor Sydney. I feel almost bad that she thinks I’m some safety net for her. It’s the last thing I can be.

It’s time for my stalking to be more apparent.

I move some things around. I yank open the dresser drawers in her room, rifling through her panties. Some cotton, some lace, some thongs. Buried at the bottom is a stack of cash that gives me pause.

She has more than a poor, jobless college girl should have. Especially since she admitted that her mom is missing.

I thought the woman simply moved on. She’s never been a good mother to Sydney, and the woman should disappear. But is my girl saving up for a private investigator or something?

Hmm.

There’s an idea.

I leave her drawer open, the money exposed, and exit her apartment.

She’ll be in class with her volleyball-playing friend, Dylan, and then another one with Penn Walker later. If he doesn’t throw her under the bus, then she should be safe enough on campus.

And it’s the one place I can’t follow.

But I have a phone call to make and a plan to set in motion.

eighteen

sydney

Dylan and Brandon have found me a new friend. They arrive at my upstairs table in the library, although I’m not sure who told them to check for me up here. And with them is the girl who sat next to me at the last hockey game.

“This is Maddy,” Dylan says. “She’s my roommate’s cousin.”

“Okay…”

“We think you’d get along,” Brandon says. “And Maddy said you guys sat together at the game.”

“We did,” I allow.

And yet, it still feels like an ambush.

Today has been weird, so I’ve taken to hiding. Again. I’m wearing Penn’s hoodie, and it might be fucking magic. People who would’ve locked the door behind them now hold it open for me, their eyes wide. I haven’t braved the dining hall, but Penn and I have a class later.