I slid my phone out of my pocket, unlocking the screen. A text from an unknown number popped up. A photo filled the screen, but even on that small space, it still had the ability to turn my blood to ice. It was of me, walking down the street, Lyla holding my hand and Justin grinning up at me. The text read: Do you really think you’re fit for the role of mother? Wait until your little town knows all of the skeletons in your closet.

“What the hell?” Mason tugged the phone from my hand and unplugged my headphones. He trailed up the text chain, seeing the article I’d been sent earlier. Clicking on it, his jaw went hard. “Why didn’t you tell me someone had been texting you this shit?”

My spine stiffened. “Not that I owe you a report of who has texted me, but I forgot. I was on a call with Keisha when the text came through, and we were dealing with more important things.”

Mason straightened to his full height, and I was suddenly aware of just how much taller he was than me. “I want to know if someone’s messing with you.”

“It’s probably my dad.” Though something about that didn’t sit right. He was far from techy, and I didn’t think he’d be able to find my unlisted phone number. But he could’ve hired a private investigator. If he’d tracked Derek and Jeff down, someone must be helping him.

“I don’t care who you think it is. This is the kind of shit you share with me.”

I took a slow breath, not wanting to let my temper get the best of me. “Make that request nicely, please.”

Mason closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, for the love of God, tell me when someone texts you something like this.”

“That’s better. Your tone could use a little work, though.”

Mason pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I need you safe.”

“I am safe. Someone’s just trying to mess with my head.”

“They were close enough to take this photo, and you didn’t even notice they were there.”

A chill skittered down my spine. I pulled back to look at the phone. “This was yesterday. When we went to pick up the bench. You were just out of frame.”

Mason studied the photo. “You’re right. Hold on.” He pulled out his phone and tapped a few things on the screen. “Hey, Dante, it’s Mason.” There was a brief pause. “Anna has been getting some weird texts. Can I forward them to you and see if you can trace them?” Another pause. “Thanks, man.”