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But I don’t see signs of addiction in Luca. As far as I can tell, both his mind and his speech are perfectly clear.

Which means . . . he must be selling.

Jesus, Luca, do you really want to go back to prison that badly?

I can’t believe Mom was right after all—Luca is still a dealer.

The good news is, at least he hasn’t tried to get me to try one of these.

Although . . . how did he get these in the first place? These are veterinary drugs. Seems like a big coincidence that he’d specifically have these drugs.

I check the code printed on the side of the bottle. Peter must’ve kept a database of all the drugs in stock at the clinic. I can compare this code—and all the other codes on all the other bottles—against the ones on that database.

And if they match . . . that means Luca stole from me.

I take out my phone, make sure it’s silent, and take pictures of all the codes on all the bottles.

I put everything back on the desk, careful not to shake the pill bottles too much because the rattling could tip Luca off. I’m lucky enough he hasn’t come back yet to see me holding one of the bottles in my hand.

I put everything back on the table, the towel draped over the sketchbook, the backpack, and the loose pages of Luca’s drawings. Those dark shadows in his sketches have taken on a new, more sinister meaning.

I wonder what Luca does in the dark when I don’t see him.

I step back and take a good look at the desk. Everything looks normal, as far as I can tell. Pretty much the way it was before I pulled on that towel and found signs of betrayal underneath it.

When Luca comes back into the screened area of the tattoo parlor, I’m already zipping up my jeans.

“I left something at the clinic,” I say. “I have to go back and get it.”

“Now?” Luca frowns. I hope he’s not getting suspicious.

“Yeah. It’s really important.” I stop myself from adding, I may have invited a thief and a drug dealer into my clinic and been robbed.

“I’d go with you—” Luca’s gaze darts to the clock on the wall “—but I have another appointment to get through before I can close up shop.”

“That’s okay. I can go on my own,” I say as I sling my bag on my shoulder.

A smile plays on Luca’s lips. Normally, it would melt my resolve and make me want to stay with him.

But right now, that smile makes me sick, thinking of how he may have been lying to me this whole time.

After his whole protective nice-guy act, it turns out he’s the worst. At least other guys have had the decency to be honest, to not pretend like they cared about me.

“Are you sure you’re not just scared of the pain?” Luca asks.

I ignore his teasing. “I’ll come back later,” I say as I walk out of the shop.

I hear Luca say “see you later” just before the door shuts

And I wonder . . . Next time I see him again, what’s it going to be like?

Sarah

I don’t know what I was expecting.

Actually . . . I kind of do. There were only two possibilities, after all.

Possibility #1. The drugs were stolen from my clinic.

Possibility #2. The drugs weren’t stolen from my clinic.

In either case, Luca would still be a liar and a drug dealer.

Now that I have both the drug database and the codes from Luca’s bottles pulled up in front of me, there’s no mistaking it.

Luca stole from the clinic.

My heart sinks. My stomach lurches. Rocks fill my throat.

I’ve gone through a lot in my life. I thought I was pretty desensitized to things like this.

But as it turns out, I’m not immune. Not when betrayal comes from someone I trust, someone like Luca.

I shouldn’t have trusted him.

I shouldn’t have trusted anyone.

I stare at the string of letters and numbers on the screen of the clinic computer and on my much smaller phone screen. The writing blends together into a blur as tears sting my eyes.

I quickly wipe my eyes with the back of my hand before Brian sees me crying. (It’s not like it would be hard to explain my tears to Brian, though. The kid would be satisfied with a standard answer like “I miss Peter,” which is technically true.)

“See you tomorrow.” I tap Brian’s shoulder before I turn around and walk up the stairs to my living quarters.

When I came here from the tattoo parlor, I took the bus. But the bus doesn’t go to where I’m going.

After grabbing my car keys, I leave the clinic in Peter’s old car.

I sit at the top of the cliff and let my legs dangle off the edge. I can see the sunset from here, turning the sky a golden color. The shadows of trees and buildings grow longer and darker as time passes.

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