Two hundred and eight?—

No.

I am free.

Chapter Forty-Five

LUCA

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25TH, 2023

Calling Finley’s parents on Thanksgiving to tell them their daughter was undergoing emergency surgery was not how I pictured the first conversation with them would go.

It was awful watching her mother cry in the waiting area, curled into her father’s chest as he rubbed her back. Every so often, his eyes would fall on me, undoubtedly wondering who the hell I was and why he’d never heard about me before. I had introduced myself as a friend, only because I didn’t want to be the one to tell them—it should be her. On her own time.

Still, small lie or not, I don’t think her father bought it. I hadn’t left the hospital for the entire three days she’d been asleep in her measly little hospital bed. Even Levi had at least gone home a few times to shower and get some sleep that wasn’t in a creaky, uncomfortable chair next to her bed. The imprint of my ass was visible in the chair because I almost never left it. The moment she opened her eyes, I wanted to be there.

Those hours in the middle of the night when it’s just me and her are the only hours I have to feel the way I need to feel without eyes on me. While her parents and Levi are around, feeling sad and down, I have to keep it together. I don’t have the opportunity to break down because someone has to keep it together for her. So, it isn’t until everyone is gone and I’m looking at her frail body in that bed that I choose to break down.

I shouldn’t break down. Everything is fine,willbe fine. She’s alive; not awake, but she’s breathing. The doctor said the trauma inflicted on her body was a lot, that she was exhausted and needed to rest. I just didn’t think it would be three whole days of rest, maybe more, considering she still hasn’t opened her eyes.

Two broken ribs due to the stab wound to her stomach. A cut to her small intestines that put her at risk for infection. A through-and-through stab wound to her thigh that somehow, by the grace of God, didn’t hit her femoral artery. Muscle damage to her thigh. Tendon damage to her thigh. Blood loss. Hundreds of stitches.

She’ll be on crutches for weeks, and she’ll need physical therapy, and the doctor said they’re unsure of how well she’ll be able to use the muscles in that leg.

Everyone is under the impression she and Levi were mugged walking down the alleyway together one night. That Celestial Readswas robbed, Oscar was killed, and they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time in the alley when the robbers escaped out the back. It’s a cohesive story. I made sure of it. I made sure Levi also knew it from beginning to end for when he was questioned by the police.

Everything is taken care of.

But it doesn’t feel that way, not when I look at Finley asleep in her bed, all bandaged up and hooked up to IVs.

“Do you ever go home?”

Looking up from my gaze at Finley, I see her dad frowning down at me. The similarities between them are uncanny, almost as much as the fact that I’m staring up at the same man from the smiling photo on Finley’s living room wall. The only difference between that picture and now is a little bit of speckled gray in his dark hair, more crinkles around his eyes.

Swallowing, I say, “No, sir.”

“And you’re her…friend.”

He stands next to my chair, staring down at his daughter now instead of me. His hands are stuffed into his pockets. His wife is sleeping softly on the couch in the corner where she usually is, and only the lamp next to the bed illuminates the room.

“Yes, sir.” I nod, also turning my attention back to Finley.

He hums.

She’d probably laugh if I told her that her dad is a pretty intimidating guy. The only smile I’ve ever seen from him is the one from the photo. Other than that, he’s stoic,serious. There’s a permanent crease between his brows. If he likes you, you definitely wouldn’t know it.

“Levi is her friend too.” His hands move from his pockets as he crosses his arms over his chest. “He goes home.”

As I mask my shaky inhale, I peek reluctantly up at him. “Would you like me to go home, Mr. Dunaway?”

I can see why he might possibly want me to. It hadn’t crossed my mind before because I’ve been so focused on Finley, but maybe it’s weird that I’m here so much. They have no idea who I am, never heard of me before, and here I am—never leaving their daughter’s side. Maybe I’m intruding. Maybe they want to be the ones next to her bedside all night. Should I have asked them? Jesus, I’m already fucking this up.

“No.” He purses his lips for a moment, like he’s thinking about something I’m clearly unaware of, before he uncrosses hisarms and slaps a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes it. Tight. “No. Stay right where you are.”

My mouth pops open like an ogling fool as I watch him walk over to his wife, gently waking her as he gathers their things. It takes longer than it should for my brain to register I’m gaping at him before I clamp my lips shut again. Finley’s mother sends me a warm smile before they leave the room, and once more, I’m alone with her sleeping figure in the bed.

My breakdown time.