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“And the five days after that? What’s your excuse?”
“Well, for starters, you blocked my number. And second…” He pauses as though he’s debating on telling me the truth.
“What is it?”
He doesn’t speak right away.
Then he drops a bombshell on me.
“I may have gotten stabbed a little…”
I know I said he had to have a damn good excuse like bleeding out in the hospital, but it never occurred to me that I could be right.
“You what?” Panic overtakes me. “Where? How? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you—”
“Hey, I’m fine.” He halts my spiral. “He got me in the arm. Didn’t hit anything vital. They kept me at the hospital for a few days, gave me some stitches, some painkillers, and sent me on my way.”
“How did you even get stabbed in the first place?” I can’t help lifting up the sleeves of his varsity jacket, scanning his skin for an entry point of some sort.
My throat burns like hell when I find a stitched wound with clean-cut edges on his veined forearm.
It’s true.
He got stabbed.
What. The. Fuck.
He exhales another long breath. Why do I feel like it’s about to get worse?
“I found Lexie’s killer.”
I immediately recall what the creep told me the day I got assaulted. I never told Finn about the guy’s confession. I thought he knew already.
I thought the only reason Finn apologized to Lexie before she died was because he knew he’d played a part in her death by borrowing money when, really, he was just as clueless as I was.
“Finn, I have to tell you someth—”
He interrupts me. “I know it was the scumbag from Lacey’s party.”
He does?
“He’s the one who stabbed me. Before that, he told me what he did to Lexie and…” He chews on his bottom lip. “…what he did to you.”
My cheeks turn scarlet.
“How much did he tell you?”
“He said he couldn’t wait to finish what he started, so I assumed he hadn’t…”
I lower my eyes to my feet, feeling dirty, soiled, ashamed. I know none of it was my fault, and it could’ve been so much worse, but I can’t help feeling embarrassed.
“He didn’t.” I swallow hard. “He was going to, but he got called away. He did say I’d see him again, though. Let’s hope he doesn’t come back for round two.”
Anger flashes in Finn’s eyes, but he quickly gets a grip. “Read my fucking lips—he’s never going to touch you again.”
“How do you know?” I stress my bottom lip.
He laughs. “Kind of hard to do with broken fingers.”
