Watching Owen earn back his spot made me prouder than I could have imagined. I was part of the reason that he was even up and running. Our therapy sessions had helped him to heal faster, and they kept him healthier.

But more than that, I hoped that I helped him stay mentally healthy. Because of me being there and trying to keep his spirits up, I hoped that he was able to keep his head in the game.

Maybe I was giving myself too much credit, but as I walked back toward my apartment from the stadium, a long walk through the city, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.

I felt good. I had plans to meet up with Owen later that night. I wanted to just enjoy the nice evening as I walked back through the city. I kept finding my mind running back to Owen and what had happened. I felt his deep, burning pride in my chest, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

I didn’t know what we were doing. I didn’t know what our relationship meant, or if we even had a relationship. I sure as hell loved being around him, and I loved the way he made my body feel. But I didn’t know if what we had went beyond that, or if either of us even wanted that.

I didn’t care. What I cared about was enjoying how it felt in the moment and trying not to overthink it. I spent so much time already worrying about my job, worrying about everything. I wasn’t going to worry as much. I was going to accept what I could accept and not worry about the rest.

It was about a forty-minute walk from the stadium back up to my neighborhood. I was pretty tired by the time I got close, and that was probably why I didn’t notice the person following me.

I walked on a few more blocks, crossing the street, after I finally noticed him. I couldn’t get a good look at him, because he was behind me, but I knew he was there. He’d been there for a few blocks, and there was no way he wasn’t following me.

I felt paranoid. I took out my phone and called Owen’s number, letting it ring. I started to walk faster and turned down an alleyway.

The figure walked faster, too. He was definitely following me. My heart was hammering in my chest as Owen’s phone rang. It rang and rang, and I wanted to scream.

“Taylor.”

I stopped. I recognized that voice. I dropped the phone from my ear.

It was the man from the game, the mafia man. Tony, I thought his name was.

“What do you want?” I asked him, fear spiking through me.

He smiled and raised his hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve come in peace.”

“You’re that guy.”

“The mafia man.” He laughed and took another step toward me. “I’m the man who owns Owen Rack, just like I own a lot of guys in the league. The mafia has more pull and power than you know.”

“Why are you following me?”

“I want you to get Rack to reconsider,” he said. “He hasn’t done what we asked yet, and it’s making us angry. Tell him to do it.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not involved in his business like that.

“Sure you are. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

I didn’t respond to that.

He laughed. “Of course you are. Use that little pussy of yours and get him to listen.”

“I won’t do it.”

“We’re not to be fucked with,” he hissed, stepping toward me. “I’ll slit your throat myself and toss you in the river. We’ve killed before, and we’ll do it again.”

“You asshole.”

“Don’t be upset, little girl. It’ll all be okay if you just get your boyfriend to do what we want.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiled and laughed. “Make the right decision, Taylor. I’ll be watching.” He turned and walked away with a wave.

I watched him go, my heart hammering in my chest.

What was happening? Why would that man come after me?

I had to stand there and take deep breaths while I waited for my body to calm down. My mind, meanwhile, was racing at a mile a minute.

He had followed me, probably from the stadium, but maybe not. He knew where I was, though, and where I lived. He wasn’t above threatening me in my own neighborhood, only a few doors down from where I lived.

And he was scary. I hated admitting that to myself, but it was the truth. He was a terrifying man, and just him looking at me had set me entire body shivering.

Finally, I remembered my phone. I lifted it up to my ear just as Owen’s voice mailbox beeped.

I hadn’t hung up the phone. The whole thing was recorded on Owen’s voice mail. Everything that creep had said to me was on there.

Slowly, that realization sank in.

Everything he had said was in that recording, including all the stuff about killing people and owning other guys in the league.

My heart started beating fast again, but for a different reason. I hurried back to my apartment and practically ran upstairs. I shut the door behind me and slammed the lock in place. I leaned up against the door, breathing fast, and then called Owen again.

This time, he picked up. “Hey, girl,” he said. “I knew you’d call.”

“Owen, listen. That guy, that mafia guy, Tony, I was walking down the street—you know, coming home from the game—and there he was, like he was following me, and—”

“Whoa, Taylor, slow down. Slow down. Did I hear you say something about Tony?”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “He followed me. He threatened me.”

“He did what?” Owen sounded cold.

“He wants me to get you to do what they say. I guess he was sending you a message through me.”

“That piece of shit,” Owen said softly.

“But wait. I was calling you when he came up to me. Do you have a voice mail from me?”

“Hold on.” Brief, muffled sounds. “Yeah, I do.”

“Owen, I think the whole conversation is in there. I forgot to hang up when he came up to me.”

“So what?”

“Owen, he said some things I’m betting they don’t want people to know about.”

It took him a second. “Oh, shit.”

“Right? We have to listen to that message.”

“Stay there. I’ll be over soon.”

I hung up the phone and sat down on the couch to wait for him, my heart beating fast.