43. Lucie
“Idid it,” Lucie found herself saying.
Isla was stable, with pain medication flowing through her system, and that was what mattered. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, and her breathing was steady. An IV Lucie had managed to jimmy-rig from supplies scattered around the Way Station was working. The worst was over. Isla was alive.
Isla was alive because of her.
Relief, pride, and disbelief settled over her. Maybe she could be a doctor.
Finn’s confidence in her ability to fix Isla pushed her on. Now that the surgery was over, she wanted nothing more than to check Finn for injuries and make sure he was okay. Were there others who needed her attention, too?
After a final check of the equipment and a whispered promise that she’d be back soon, Lucie stepped out of the house, intent on finding Finn as soon as possible.
The porch creaked beneath her feet, and the first breath of cool evening air surrounded her.
As soon as she closed the door, Finn stopped pacing the porch.
His hair stuck up in different places, as if he had run his hand through it repeatedly.
Dark circles shadowed his wide eyes. His arms were tightly crossed over his leather-clad chest. Charlie and Sabrina were on the other side on the porch swing, talking in low, hushed tones.
The tension in Finn’s body eased when he spotted her.
“Lucie . . .” Finn breathed, his eyes softening.
Charlie and Sabrina’s heads snapped up at the same time.
“Isla is going to be okay. She’s resting now,” Lucie announced.
Sabrina bounded over and threw her arms around her.
“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Sabrina confessed.
“You haven’t even seen her,” Lucie said, tucking her hair back behind her ear. Exhaustion was weighing down her eyes. “I could have stitched a third arm right in the middle of her chest.”
Sabrina snorted.
“Well, regardless of her third arm, I know you did brilliantly,” Sabrina said. “Thank you so much.”
Charlie approached, winked, and said, “Nice going, Doc.”
“Does anyone else need stitches? Medicine? How did the mission go?” Lucie rushed. “Did you get the Atlas agents out? What happened to the bad guys? Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone is safe,” Sabrina said. “We got the Atlas agents out. They were a little beat up, and a small team of Conductors escorted them to Atlas. They are with their families now. The Legion agents . . . well . . .” She looked to Charlie.
“They had cyanide pills in their teeth,” Charlie mourned. “We tried. They didn’t make it.”
Finn was watching her intently.
“Oh . . .” Lucie said. “I hope their families are okay, too.”
Finn made a small noise like a whimper. She would trade all her paints for a moment alone with him, to see if he needed her, too. Even the thought of him in pain, with her unable to help, made her want to curl into a ball and cry.
Charlie looked from her to Finn, then grinned.
“Hey, hot sauce,” Charlie said, motioning his head to Sabrina. “I think we had a meeting somewhere else. Like right now.”
“We did not, it’s—” Sabrina stopped, noticing the doctor and general looking at each other. “Oh. Ohh, we definitely do. We need to leave,” Sabrina said, already turned around, hooking her arm through Charlie’s.
“Immediately,” Charlie agreed.
“Urgently,” Sabrina said. The two of them disappeared down the porch steps, neither trying exceptionally hard to hide their smiles or their glances back.
Not sure who moved first, Finn and Lucie, like magnets, closed the distance between them in quick strides. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.
“Hi,” she said lamely.
Tension left her body the second his arms wrapped around her. Lucie buried her face against his shoulder. It was like taking the first deep breath after being underwater. She pulled back to drown in his amber eyes.
His hands came to rest gently on either side of her face, his thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks. His gaze roamed over her, searching for any sign of bruises or scratches. His fingertips trembled slightly against her cheeks.
“Are you alright?” he murmured, his eyes meeting hers with a tenderness that melted away her last bit of worry. She nodded, barely able to find her voice, the warmth of his hands grounding her.
“Are you?” she asked softly, bringing her hands up to gently trace the lines of his face, as if to reassure herself he was unharmed. “I thought I lost you. Your camera went dark.”
How many times had Finn done this? How many times had he returned from danger, carrying the weight of what he’d seen and done, alone?
“I’m here, sweetheart. It’s me,” Finn said, nuzzling into her hand.
She traced the faint stubble along his jaw and cheekbones, and the familiar worry lines on his forehead, feeling the tension melt with each touch.
“What are you doing?” he chuckled.
“Inspecting,” she said.
“For what?”
“Injuries,” Lucie admitted, running her hands up his arms to check for wounds . . . and for no other reason.
“I’m fine,” he said, playfully rolling his eyes.
Then Lucie’s eyes narrowed at a shallow cut near his jaw.
“Ah ha, what’s that?” she said, twisting her lips.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said, kissing her hand. “It doesn’t hurt, but you are always welcome to kiss it to make it better.”
“It needs to be disinfected,” Lucie said, coming down from her tippy-toes. But Finn wasn’t letting her go anywhere, pulling her back to him.
“I love it when you talk all doctor-ey to me,” Finn professed.
Lucie bit her lip. “Flirting with the doctor will get you nowhere.”
“I’m hoping it will get her back in bed, where I can hold her until she falls asleep,” Finn admitted, ducking his head as a single curl fell across his forehead.
“You were in there for hours.” As soon as he said it, exhaustion hit her right between the eyes.
It was like a cartoon in which she didn’t realize she was running over a canyon until she looked down and saw she’d run out of road, and then dropped.
But she didn’t want to lose a second with Finn. Sleep could come later.
“I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you out there,” Lucie admitted, fiddling with his collar. She wanted to be there for him, to be the one he came home to, and the one who could share his burdens.
As if sensing her thoughts, Finn’s hands slipped to her shoulders, drawing her close until their foreheads touched. “You saved her, Lucie,” he whispered, his voice low and brimming with pride. “You did it.”
“We make a pretty good team,” she said, not wanting to take all the credit.
Then he kissed her. Slowly, savoring her. Nowhere in the world felt better than being in his arms.
Sensing someone’s approach, Finn shifted.
“Ms. Nightingale,” a voice called, cutting through the quiet.
Every muscle in Finn’s body tensed.
They both turned.
Mr. Williams was at the bottom of her stairs, leaning on his cane.
Warmth from the evening whooshed out of her bones.
Lucie swallowed.
Finn positioned himself slightly in front of her.
“She saved Isla’s life,” Finn said, holding his chin up.
Mr. Williams dug his cane into the ground. “I know.”
“Then whatever this is can wait,” Finn challenged.
“It can’t.” Mr. Williams’s gaze flicked between her and Finn, then settled on her. His expression was unreadable. “I need to speak to Ms. Nightingale. Alone.”
“No.” Finn’s jaw tightened. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Henry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Lead the way,” Lucie said. Finn looked like he was the one who’d been shot.
She gave Finn a quick nod, a silent assurance, even as her heart fluttered.
This was it. She had to leave. None of it had changed. She’d let herself believe that saving Isla meant something and that Mr. Williams would see it as a reason for her to stay. But it didn’t.
She couldn’t even look at Finn as her hand dropped from his.