On the way home, I stop at a pay phone.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks in an urgent tone.

I pitch my voice as flat and Texan as I can get it. “There’s a boy behind the sign at the county hospital. He’s hurt bad. Someone oughta go look after him.”

“Sir, what’s your name—”

But I’m already hanging up. My work here is done.

Time to go back to my main concern…

Lily DeVry.

12

Lily

I wake up in Finn’s bed. For one long breath, my memory is blank.

Then it all comes rushing in. Everything that happened.

Finn. Cora.

And Dallas. Oh God, Dallas.

No matter how hard I try to drown out the voice in my head, it comes back, repeating the same thing over and over again.

Dallas Martin is dead.

At least, that’s what my worst fears are saying.

Truth be told, I don’t know anything for certain. Finn never said he killed him. I asked him, and he said it didn’t matter. He didn’t say he did or didn’t do it.

Dallas was at a party. Maybe he drank too much or overdosed or … something. Maybe it was all an accident, and Finn wanted to keep it quiet so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

Worse will happen to you if you tell anyone.

I wish I knew what to believe.

Finn is sleeping next to me. He doesn’t have a shirt on, and his arm is thrown over his head, lying across the dark pillowcase. He looks so peaceful.

Beautiful, even.

Then, I feel the faint stickiness across my chest, and the crust of tears at my eyes. And I know.

It was all real.

Everything.

I try to get out of bed silently, but Finn wakes up and rolls over, his eyes opening instantly. There’s no sign of sleep in them, and suddenly I’m not sure whether he’s been awake the entire time.

“Leaving so soon?” he purrs sarcastically.

“I have to get home.”

He nods and sits up, crawling across the bed towards me.

His muscles contract as he moves. He looks like a tiger. Like a lethal predator, hunting down prey.