33. Lucie
“Iam so sorry about them,” Finn said, waving them off, once the door was closed. “I told you I had nosy neighbors.”
Lucie smiled, the motion hurting her face.
Seeing Finn in his home at this place . . .
Everything about him made sense; why he wanted to protect his identity was an extension of this place. Of his friends who’d become his family.
His house was perfectly him.
It smelled like him. Warm, clean, and cozy.
She moved through the house, curious about all the unsaid things it explained about him.
The colors in his house were all neutral. Grays, blacks, and muted earth tones. His walls were mostly bare. The stack of books on the shelf was arranged with some stacked on top of each other.
The few framed photographs on the mantle of his friends—none of him. A few personal touches, in the form of framed black-and-white photographs of deserts, mountains, and dunes by the ocean. A worn leather jacket hung on a hook by the door. Even the kitchen was simple and clean.
The Way Station was even more beautiful than he had described.
Cozy log cabins and homes lined the cobblestone paths, each resembling a gingerbread house, complete with quaint streetlamps casting a soft glow.
She couldn’t believe this beautiful oasis was here in the middle of the woods.
Or that so many people lived here. She hadn’t seen anyone, but the scale of the base was that of a small town.
Everything was a dream.
Even Sabrina and Charlie were a dream. Nothing about it felt real. It was unlike the stark contrast of the house she had grown up in.
“I love your place, it’s?—”
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on something taped to the fridge.
A picture.
Displayed openly.
The drawing she’d done of him months ago—the one he’d tipped her a hundred dollars for. As well as receipts she didn’t know had gone missing, crammed with her doodles. All taped up on the fridge. Her hand fell to her mouth.
Memories flooded back to the day her father ripped the money from her hands and lashed out, thinking she had stolen it. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the edge of the sketch of Finn. That was the day she realized she had started to fall for Finn.
She didn’t even know Finn had kept it, let alone treasured it enough to bring it back to his place and display it here.
Lucie swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in her throat. But it was too late. A tear ran down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away.
“Am I that bad to look at?” he joked, slowly edging up behind her. Another tear. He reached over the top of her to take the picture down.
She held his hand. “Stop. I couldn’t bear it if you took it down,” she whispered, turning around to hug him, harder than she had ever hugged anyone in her life.
Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down.
“Thank you for not forgetting about me,” she whispered, looking up at him.
“Luzita, there is nothing on heaven or Earth that could make me forget about you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She didn’t know where she belonged in Finn’s world, but she knew for sure she belonged in his arms. Her next goal would be to figure out where she belonged here, but first, a shower. Maybe some food. Then she could take on the world. Baby steps.
“Can I borrow some clothes? I wanna take a shower,” Lucie asked, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“I don’t want to wear anything my dad got me.
Anything he’s seen me in. I know that might not make any sense—” The idea of bringing something he had bought her into this safe place made her feel gross.
Everything she had was only for surviving, covering up bruises. Nothing beautiful. Or outstanding.
Finn’s expression softened with understanding. “I’ve got plenty you can wear.”
He picked her up like she weighed nothing, but maybe she didn’t. She hardly ate. To get to the kitchen, you had to go through the shop, and there was no way she could have done that during the day. She had to wait until her dad was gone at night to get food.
He walked down the hallway toward his room and the attached bathroom.
The largest bed she had ever seen was covered with gray sheets, a white duvet, and the fluffiest pillows.
On either side of the bed were bedside tables with matching lamps.
He even had a headboard and a box spring.
A book she recommended rested on the bedside table, along with a framed picture of him, Charlie, Sabrina, and a puppy, all making silly faces.
Finn grabbed an old band T-shirt and gray sweatpants and handed them to her.
“I’m sorry I’m being weird,” she said. “I don’t want you to think I’m weak. I’m okay. I promise.”
He stepped closer to her, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “You’re not weak, Lu. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. I am so sorry for your pain, but I am amazed by your strength.”
She didn’t feel brave, but she wanted to be more than anything. But tonight all she needed to do was eat, shower, and sleep. Things would look different in the morning. She hoped. She was just happy she had hope again.
Finn guided her to the bathroom, which was connected to the room. The space was sleek and modern, with gleaming countertops that reflected the soft light.
No clutter. No chaos.
Finn moved with quiet efficiency, careful not to touch her, and walked over to the massive glass shower. He reached in, turned on the shower, and held his hand under the stream until steam began to rise.
“There,” Finn said softly, gazing down at her with his familiar marigold-and-ash eyes.
He was better than any fictional man she’d ever read about.
It was as if he’d been ripped from her favorite book and placed on the planet just for her.
“It’s ready for you. I’ll just be outside if you need anything. ”
Lucie nodded, watching as he gave her one last look before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind him quietly.
Lucie stared at herself in the mirror, slowly fogging up as she wrapped her arms around her body.
With a deep breath, Lucie undressed and stepped into the warm stream of water. The warm water hit the top of her head, cascading over her.
Her eyes drifted to the row of neatly arranged products on the shower shelves.
Finn had an array of shampoos, conditioners, body washes, and scrubs.
She smiled to herself, imagining him meticulously selecting each bottle, going down the row like it was part of some unspoken ritual.
Even in something as simple as shower supplies, Finn was precise.
Tears fell down her cheeks again. Happy tears.
She made it out. She was free.