Page 82 of For Crosby

“Later,” Xavier called.

I glanced over my shoulder as Caden returned to the table with Finlay. She eagerly listened to what I assumed was Caden’s “report” before glancing over at me. I lifted my empty beer bottle in acknowledgment.

She smiled and lifted hers.

Sabrina

It was quiet on the third floor in the library as I slunk back in my chair surrounded by dusty scholarly journals most undergrads had no use for. For the third day in a row, I’d been tucked away at a back table. My eyes burned and I’d begun to question if I knew what I was even looking for.

My phone vibrated. I searched for it beneath the papers strewn across the table. I located it and found a text from Finlay. Where are you?

My thumbs pounded away at my screen. Library. Third floor.

On my way. Saw Crosby at the bar last nite. Need to talk to you.

A shutter rushed through me. What did she need to talk to me about? Was Crosby alright? Had she talked to him? Had he moved on?

A few minutes later I looked up to find Finlay standing there, her eyes moving over the articles covering the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I did what you said.” I grabbed a handful of papers and straightened them into a pile. “I looked past my anger.”

Confusion flashed across her face. “So, you’re burying yourself in schoolwork?”

“Not quite.”

Finlay slipped into the chair across from me. “What’s that mean?”

I didn’t know how to respond. I hadn't really found anything substantial. “What did you need to tell me about Crosby?”

“Some girl was trying to get his attention. Touching his tattoos and stuff.”

I grabbed more loose papers and neatened them into another pile, trying to remain unfazed by the unwanted image flashing in my mind. “So?”

“So, I had Caden go check things out.”

“Why? Crosby can do what he wants.”

She pegged me with her eyes. “He’s not seeing anyone, if you were wondering.”

I handed her a stack of papers, a small sense of relief spreading over me.

She flipped through them, looking them over curiously. “Why are these names highlighted?”

“They’re the people suing Crosby’s parents.”

“There are hundreds of them.”

I nodded.

She looked at me. “Why are you interested in who’s suing Crosby’s parents?”

“I’m looking for familiar names. Names that might tell me why he thinks he has to put up with what’s been happening to him.”

“Have you found anything yet?”

I shook my head. “No names stood out, so I started researching each of them. I’m not even halfway through the list yet.”

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