The Ultimate Hockey Romance Bundle

9:47 P.M.

I was babysitting for the single dad who lives across the street, when I saw a man through his window.

I could see a figure across the street, partially hidden behind the Martinez's oak tree.

My blood immediately turned to ice.

He was older than I remembered, his hair more gray than brown, but the way he held himself was unmistakable.

The same man who’d followed my father three years ago.

The same man who’d stood outside our old house taking pictures before vanishing the night my father disappeared.

He had a camera in his hands, the long lens pointed directly at Henry's house.

My body shifted into full alert, instincts honed by years of hypervigilance snapping into place.

My hands were steady as I stood and moved toward the tent, but my heart hammered so hard I felt it in my throat.

"Girls," I called out in the bright, cheerful voice I'd perfected for managing crises. "The mosquitoes are terrible tonight. Let’s move the sleepover inside.”

"But we want to sleep in the tent!" Lily protested.

"I know, sweetheart, but trust me on this one. We can set up an even better fort in the living room. Movie time!"

The magic words. Six nine-year-olds erupted from the tent with enthusiasm that would have been comical under different circumstances.

"Everyone grab your sleeping bags," I said, my voice remaining calm and upbeat while my mind raced through security protocols. "Let's move the party inside before the bugs eat us alive."

I herded them through the back door, my body positioned so I could keep watch on the street while ensuring all six girls made it safely into the house.

The man was still there. And I felt exposed and vulnerable in ways that made my skin crawl.

Once the children were secure in the living room, chattering excitedly about movie choices and snack preferences, I moved through the house.

Deadbolts engaged. Curtains drawn across every window. Kids tucked into the most interior room.

"Mary, what's wrong?" Lily asked, her intuitive awareness picking up on the tension I was trying to hide.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. We're just going to play a new game." I forced brightness into my voice while my fingers found my phone.

“We’re secret agents, hiding from the bad guys. Can everyone be super quiet and brave?”

The girls nodded, thrilled by the idea. I'd done this before, during the worst months after my father's disappearance, when every sound outside our house sent me into defensive mode.

My text to Henry was brief and urgent.

Henry: Emergency. Don't call back.

Then I positioned myself by the living room window where I could watch the street through a gap in the curtains while keeping the children in my peripheral vision.

My hand found the pepper spray in my purse, and I felt the familiar weight of it like an old friend.

"Is this like the games you used to play when you were little?" Emma whispered, wide-eyed with the thrill of being part of something secret and important.

"Something like that," I murmured, eyes locked on the figure on the street.

The man had moved closer, now under the streetlight. Definitely the same person. Same build.

The same way of holding his head slightly tilted when he was concentrating. Same methodical way of taking photographs that had haunted my nightmares for three years.

He'd found me. After three years of looking over my shoulder, of jumping at shadows and planning escape routes from grocery stores, the threat I'd been running from had finally caught up with me.

And I'd led him straight to Henry and Lily.

Five minutes felt like forever. But finally, I heard the sound of Henry's footsteps approaching, faster than usual.

He appeared in the living room doorway looking confused, concerned, completely unprepared for what I was about to tell him.

“What’s happening?” he demanded, taking in the scene: six little girls nestled in a fort of pillows and blankets, me standing guard, tension radiating from every line of my body.

“Girls, keep playing,” I said, keeping my voice steady. Then I gestured for Henry to follow me into the kitchen where little ears couldn’t overhear.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, my hands trembling as I reached for a glass of water. The drumming in my chest was deafening and the panic I thought I’d learned to contain the past years was clawing its way back to my head.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, holding me by the wrist.

"The man who was watching my father before he disappeared is outside your house," I said without preamble, my voice clipped and professional. "He's been taking pictures.”

Henry stared at me for a moment, processing this information. "What man?"

"Three years ago, before my father vanished, I saw the same person following him.

Taking photos of our house, our car, documenting our routines. I tried to tell the police, but they said I was paranoid, that there was no evidence of stalking."

"Mary—"

"He was just across the street, Henry. Same camera. The same systematic way of gathering information.

He's found me, and now you and Lily are targets because of me," I spoke, my carefully constructed calm facade slowly breaking as each word rolled off my tongue.

Because of me.

The people… The family I have learned to love and value have become targets of the shadows of my past.

Henry moved to the window, carefully shifting the curtain to peer outside. I saw his jaw tighten as he spotted the figure retreating down the street, moving with the casual pace of someone who'd gotten what they came for.

"I'm calling the police," he said, already reaching for his phone.

I looked at him in disbelief. He must have not heard me.

"They won't believe us. They didn't believe me before," I repeated.

He shook his head, unconvinced. "This is different. This is my house, my daughter. They'll take it seriously."

"They'll take a report and file it away and tell us to call back if anything actually happens," I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm.

"I've been through this before, Henry. I know how this works."

His expression shifted, from concern to something closer to fear, as the implications sank in. I could almost see the moment he realized this wasn’t just about some shadow from my past anymore.

This was about his daughter’s safety. About the quiet suburban life he’d built being invaded by dangers he’d never signed up for.

Henry paused and took a long, deep breath like he needed to calm himself too.

"Mary," he said slowly, "what exactly did your father get involved in?"

"Gambling and things… I don't know," I admitted, the words tasting like failure. "He never told me his problems. He just... Just left a note saying he'd gotten in over his head with some bad people and that I'd be safer if he disappeared."

My hands trembled as memories from the past started replaying in my mind.

Cold sweat formed on my forehead, and the fear of being cut off of Henry and Lily’s lives gnawed at me like an inevitable death sentence.

"And you think these same people are now targeting you," Henry probed.

I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to steady the racing of my heart. 

"I think they never stopped looking for him, and they finally found me. I think loving me has just painted a target on your back."

The silence that followed was deafening. I could hear the girls laughing in the living room.

The scent of the birthday cake still lingered in the kitchen. But the weight of everything I’d dragged into this house pressed down on my chest like a ten ton truck.

My worst nightmare had finally come true.

My past had caught up with me. And now Henry and Lily were in danger because I’d been selfish enough to let myself fall in love with them.

The man who had destroyed my family three years ago was back. And this time, he wasn’t just watching.

This time, he knew exactly where to find us.