Page 96 of Lunar Crest University

“I don’t want to think anymore,” she breathes, shaking her head. “No more. Not tonight. I just want to go to bed.”

The last few days have taken so much out of her that she practically drags her feet as she passes me, crawling into the bed and pulling the comforter over her as she snuggles down until she’s hidden. I stand there for a while, staring at her curled-up body under the covers. She probably expects me to leave, and I know I should, but my feet don’t move. The thought of leaving her alone for another night makes my stomach churn.

She can be mad at me, hell, she canhateme if she wants to. But she can hate me from a foot away because I’m sleeping in this bed tonight.

I’m not leaving her alone, not again.

Never again.

Chapter Thirty-Five

FINLEY

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16TH, 2023

Ibaby the mug of coffee in my hands, cradling it for warmth as I take a sip. Leaning against the counter, I watch as Luca passes every so often, loading our bags in the trunk to leave. My world may be crumbling, but at least this coffee tastes good.

He crawled into the bed next to me last night, and I didn’t say anything. My energy was depleted, and in all honesty, I missed the warmth of him at night. We never spoke a word to each other, nor did we touch. He stayed on his side, and I stayed on mine. I could breathe a little easier when I woke up this morning, but only until everything started to creep back in.

I crave those fleeting moments when I forget, where I can look at him the same way I did before, without the shattering pain stabbing me in the chest.

“You two are fighting.”

I blink rapidly as I try not to sputter on my coffee, looking over to see Ana walking into the kitchen. She’s wrapped in an oversized cardigan, and her hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders, the same curls she’d given to Luca.

“I…”

Don’t know what to say.

“What did my son do?” she presses, her eyebrows knitting with concern.

“Just a disagreement,” I say with a smile, but I can tell it’s not quite reaching my eyes. I’m trying, I swear I am. “That’s all.”

Her dark eyes don’t look away from me, and suddenly, I’m sweating. I wonder if she can read me like an open book; I know my mother can. She tilts her head ever so faintly, and then her eyes soften as she places a gentle hand on my arm.

“I told youmi hijohas never brought a girl to see me before.”

I nod steadily.

“He never dated when he was younger. Never had a girlfriend.” She shrugs. “I was beginning to lose hope.”

Bringing the mug up to my lips for a small sip, I say, “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s a good boy,” she urges softly. “His heart is too big for his chest.”

But I wouldn’t know that, would I? He keeps his heart chained far away from me, only allowing me small glimpses when I can feel it thrashing against my palm. My eyes avert to the ground, on my boots, as I grip onto the mug for dear life.

“You know.”

What?

Jerking my head up, my mouth pops open, but nothing comes out.

“He told you about his past.” Her hand drops as she pulls the cardigan tighter around her. “What he did for us.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“What he’s done foryou.”

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