There was no one there but me … at the moment.

You’re dreaming.

Just remembering those words made me feel like I’d been dipped in ice water. Who had been in my apartment? And what had they wanted? After hearing that muted voice, I forced myself to keep listening, terrified of what I might hear, but there was nothing else on that recording. The second recording, time-stamped just over an hour later, was brief and familiar: the same soft taps followed by the same muffled thud. As incomprehensible as it sounded, it seemed someone had come inside and watched me sleep.

But what kind of sicko would do something like that?

Ryan, I thought immediately. It had to be Ryan. I hadn’t seen any indication of a break-in, and no one else had access to the keys. There was no other …

Oh, I thought, suddenly remembering what had happened after Nick left. I’d heard the footsteps in the alley and had gone to explore. Exhausted and distracted, I must not have locked the door. I’d practically invited the intruder in. But what kind of intruder just came in to watch you sleep?

The kind that wants to be sleeping with you.

I shook my head to clear the thought. I knew Cat thought Nick was the one who left those headless flowers that night, but she was wrong. That wasn’t the kind of thing he would do, and he certainly wouldn’t break into my apartment to watch me sleep. It couldn’t be Nick … could it?

NICK WAS WAITING for me in the Hirshhorn lobby, lounging in one of the sleek chairs as he typed on his phone. Light poured in from the huge windows, illuminating golden highlights in his hair, and my stomach twisted. This was Nick—Nick, a man I’d slept beside hundreds of times, a man who’d held my hand through tattoos and turbulence, weddings and funerals. I couldn’t believe that I was about to accuse him of something so deranged it seemed ripped from a horror movie. The idea should have been laughable, but things had gotten weird between us since I had moved to DC.

I had to ask, and I had to ask him face-to-face. I’d known Nick long enough to tell when he was lying (tugging on his right ear while saying “No, Audrey, I didn’t sleep with that freshman” meant “Yes, Audrey, I did sleep with that freshman—more than once, in fact”), and I needed to watch his reaction.

“Hey,” I greeted him, my bitter anxiety making my throat feel tight and constricted. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure thing, babe,” Nick said, looking up from his phone with an easy grin. He clocked my expression and his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

You’re being crazy, my inner voice scolded. Nick is your friend. Don’t accuse him of this.

But I’d come this far, and so I took a deep breath and lowered myself into the chair beside him. “I need you to be honest with me, okay?”