Chasing the puck

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tyler's hands trembled as he stared at the message on his phone screen, the words blurring as his heart raced. "You're running out of time." The simple sentence, so seemingly innocent, weighed heavily on his mind. His stomach churned with the growing sense of dread that had been gnawing at him for weeks. The message wasn't just a vague threat anymore-it was a countdown.

The cold air in the apartment felt suffocating as Tyler paced back and forth. His thoughts were scattered, paranoia settling deeper into his bones with every passing second. Who was behind this? How much did they know? And, most importantly, how close were they to making their next move? His hands were clammy, sweat beading along his brow as he tried to steady his breath. It wasn't just him in danger-Sarah could be next, and the thought of her getting dragged into this sent a chill down his spine.

With a shaky hand, he dialed Preston's number. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Preston, we need to talk... I've been getting these messages. They're not just random... they're threats."

The next morning, Preston arrived at Tyler's apartment with a laptop and a stack of notes. His usual lighthearted demeanor was gone, replaced by a seriousness that made Tyler's stomach twist even more. They sat at the kitchen table, the tension thick in the air as Preston opened his laptop and pulled up a series of documents.

"Whoever's behind this has been tracking you for months, maybe longer," Preston explained, clicking through the timeline he had pieced together. "The dates and locations all match up with your games and public appearances. This isn't just some random stalker-they know your schedule. They know you."

Tyler swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. The weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders. "What do we do now?" His voice was tight, his mind racing with the possibilities.

Preston leaned back, his brow furrowed in thought. "We need to dig deeper. We need to track their digital footprint, see if we can trace where these messages are coming from."

Tyler nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and fear. Relief that Preston was helping him, but fear that they were running out of time.

Meanwhile, Sarah sat in her car, staring blankly at the dashboard, the aftermath of last night's argument with Tyler still weighing heavily on her heart. She replayed their fight over and over again, her mind searching for answers that never came. The tension between them had been building for weeks, and no matter how much she tried to help him, Tyler only seemed to pull further away. The ache in her chest was overwhelming, and for the first time, she wondered if there was anything left to save.

Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat. It was a message from Summer, asking if she wanted to grab coffee. Sarah hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone. She needed to talk to someone, and Summer was always there when things got rough.

At the café, the comforting smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries did little to ease the tension in Sarah's chest. She stirred her drink absentmindedly as she recounted the argument to Summer, her voice low and strained. "I don't know what to do anymore. Every time I try to reach out to him, he pushes me away. I feel like I'm losing him, and I don't know how to stop it."

Summer reached across the table, squeezing Sarah's hand gently. "You've done everything you can, Sarah. But you can't keep sacrificing yourself for him if he won't meet you halfway. You deserve to be happy too."

Sarah's chest tightened at her friend's words. "I love him, Summer. I don't want to give up on him... but it's so hard. He's different now, and I don't know how to fix it."

Summer's expression softened. "Maybe it's not about fixing him, Sarah. Maybe it's about letting him figure things out on his own and protecting yourself in the process."