11. Finn
“Finn, where are you going?” Sabrina asked, coming up behind him.
Busted.
Finn slowly turned around, taking his hand off the handle of his car.
Sabrina stood there, one fist on her hip, the other holding her squirming puppy—all floppy ears and wagging tail.
Besides the dog drool, Charlie’s green flannel, and khaki pants, Sabrina wore the new locket Charlie had gifted her, its delicate gold glinting against her skin, a reminder of the midnight picnic that, according to Chucky Boy, had gone undeniably well.
Finn wondered if someday he could have that, maybe with Lucie.
Fine, he admitted it. He really, really liked Lucie, more than he’d liked anyone—well, ever.
It had only been a couple of hours since he’d last seen her, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Or her lips. He hadn’t been able to sleep until he’d promised himself that he could see her again when he got up.
If he left right now, he could be there before the shop opened up.
A pang of something hit him in the chest—homesickness, which made about as much sense as horse tap dancing on a glass roof, because he was right there at the Way Station.
Finn forced a smile. “I’m just heading out on another supply run. Shouldn’t be long.”
Sabrina gave him a pointed look, her brow arched in suspicion, just as Artemis licked across her cheek.
“You’ve been making a lot of runs lately,” Sabrina accused, narrowing her eyes.
Finn shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual. He forced his foot to stop tapping, one of his tells that Sabrina caught on to. Finn didn’t just lose fistfights to her; he had also been losing the weekly poker game lately. He wouldn’t lose this.
“Yeah, well, we’ve got new people coming in all the time. Ms. Makayla is worried about supply and demand. Gotta keep everyone fed and happy,” he lied. All bluff, no aces. The store was actually overflowing with the new packages he had been bringing in.
Sabrina didn’t look convinced, her eyes still squinting as she shifted Artemis in her arms.
“Don’t forget we have a lead meeting tonight. I need you to be the running point with me. Don’t be late.”
“No te preocupes. It’s fine, hermanita,” Finn promised, though the words were heavy on his tongue.
He didn’t want to lie to Sabrina or betray the kindness Henry had shown him, but the pull toward Lucie was too strong.
He couldn’t help himself. Without her presence, he was lost. His whole life was like a hurricane.
Surviving crisis after crisis. Band-aid solutions stacked on top of band-aid solutions.
But being with her was the first time in his life he was calm—she was the eye of the storm.
“All right,” Sabrina said at last. “But I’m watching you, Vega.”
Artemis yipped as if agreeing with her.
“You worry too much,” he teased, rubbing the top of her head. She smacked his hand away.
“Is there something I should be worried about? Charlie told me—well, he didn’t tell me much, but?—”
His heart skipped, but he masked it with a laugh.
“You’re makin’ me late. The more we talk,” he said, tapping his watch. “I’ve gotta go if I want to make it back in time.”
“Fine, leave. While you’re out, can you get me some cherry sours?” she asked.
He promised her. There would be a whole truck full if she could keep her nose out of it.
Finn hopped into his car, waved as he pulled away, and watched her grow smaller in the rearview window. Nailed it. She was none the wiser.
Isla was at the guard station. After a quick scan from his watch, he was in and out of the tunnel, flying down the mountain.
He looked at the gift he had for Lucie in his driver’s seat and smiled.
Every mile he drove brought him closer to her, and the tension in his shoulders eased as he thought about being near her again.
But he couldn’t help thinking about the bruises she had covered up last night.
She wasn’t clumsy. Something was definitely happening, but he wanted her to tell him.
He had tried to push last night, and she had kicked him out.
He needed to heed Charlie’s advice and listen to her, give her a reason to trust him.
Finn told himself he’d be back in time and wouldn’t be late for the meeting. But Finn knew better than anyone that the truth was rarely as simple as a promise.