Page 43 of Lost Lyrebird

The way he says my name.There should be fucking laws against it.I close my eyes and have a moment, becausegoddamn him.His voice is whiskey-rough and addictive.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

I try to pull myself together and shake the sleep from my voice.“Yeah, but only because I stayed up way later than I should have.I have a minute, though.What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see if you’d thought anymore about the apartment I have for rent.”

I clear my throat, a ball of anxiety is hindering me from talking like a normal person.“Uh-mmm, I don’t know.I guess I figured it was a bad idea, with you being my boss and all.”

“I can keep my hands to myself if you can.”

Damn you, Finn.

“Can I think about it when I’m more awake and call you back?”

“Sure.No problem.”

“Great.”

I press to end the call much harder than necessary, then toss my phone.Burying my head back into the pillow, I scream.I lie there, fighting to control the emotions his offer stirs up.

It’s all too easy to picture him, the way he looked last night.The way he fucking looked at me last night.He always looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.Like I’m a mirage that might vanish if he looks away.

Even when I dance, I’m constantly aware of his gaze, which is always on me when I perform, and it’s like a living, breathing thing.My body lights up even now just thinking about it.Okay, fuck, don’t do that,because now I’m having sexual thoughts and I’m warm all over.

Turning, I stare at the tattoo on my forearm that I cover up whenever I’m on the job.It’s an Australian lyrebird scavenging through the brush.The words beneath it read:

Her heart heavy.Her wings broken.It was no wonder she never learned to fly.

The memory comes unbidden.

The driver curses and takes the turn three times faster than necessary.I’m thrown from one side of the car to the other.Pain ricochets outward and spreads through my limbs.I push out every molecule of oxygen from my lungs in an eardrum-shattering shriek.

The pain is unbearable.I don’t blame the driver, though.I think I’d do the same if I had a girl dying in my backseat, too.

“Oh, God.It hurts.”I suck in a shaky breath.Every inch of my body trembles, gripped by a truckload of agony.I force my fingers to stay on the wound in my stomach even though the blood and the rocking motion of the car make it damn near impossible.

The knife wound is deep, and my blood is flowing like a river out of me, through my fingers and down my leggings.

The driver takes another sharp turn.I thrust my hand out to steady myself, but it slips on the leather seat, smearing a crimson handprint across it.“There’s so much blood.”It’s all I see.It’s pooling around me, covering my skin.Just red.Red on my clothes.Red on the door.

The driver’s gaze swings sharply from the road to mine in the rearview mirror.“Just hold on, okay?We’re almost there.I can see the hospital just ahead.”His panicked brown eyes are wide and shifting, from me to the road, from me and back to the road.

“Two blocks.You can make it.”

I lay my head back and look up at the car’s roof.Then past it to the night sky.I stare at the stars and try to picture Finn up there, looking down on me.Watching my life come to an end.Is he sad for me?Or is he happy because now I’ll be able to join him in heaven… if that’s even where I’ll go… or even where he is…

Fuck.

I hadn’t thought of that.What if I don’t end up wherever he is?What if I’m headed in the opposite direction?

I thought I had more time to become a better person and change.Time to prove I was someone he could be proud of.Someone worthy of him.

The last memory of that night is of the driver screaming,“Dammit!Don’t close your eyes.We’re almost there.Oh, God… don’t… don’t you dare fucking die on me!”Panic bled from his voice.Even now, I can recall his accent and the tone of his voice.

I push the memory to the back of my mind, so far back that I won’t reach for it again anytime soon.