Finn stepped around the bed and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
She was confused for a second, her brain running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep, but eventually his request registered. She reached into her bag to pull out her cell.
He took it from her, typed a few things, and then handed it back to her. “You can always call me, Livvy. For anything.”
She took her phone back, her hope sinking a bit. “Right. Thanks.”
He kissed the top of her head and then grabbed his stuff. “I’m going to get out of your way so you can shower and rest. If you need anything before breakfast, give me a holler.”
“Thanks.”
He stepped out into the hallway without a backward glance and headed to the room they’d left, obviously more than a little eager to get the hell away from her. She didn’t blame him. She’d apparently become the queen of awkward conversation tonight.
With a sigh, she locked her door and made her way over to the bed and collapsed onto it. Spent. Exhausted. And a little frustrated.
Finn had taken her words to mean she wanted someone to call when she needed help, but she wasn’t in the market for a therapist or a savior. She was in the market for a friend.
But maybe she was grasping for something that didn’t exist with Finn anymore. Maybe she was just being nostalgic. They weren’t in high school. They didn’t live in the same place. They couldn’t just hang out. The time for that had passed. She needed to be okay with that.
If he wasn’t interested in keeping in touch, she wasn’t going to chase him.
She checked the time on her phone to see how many hours she needed to kill before breakfast. But instead of seeing the time, she saw the address book entry Finn had made.
His phone number.
Filed under Batman.
And a note beneath: You will never be a stranger to me.
chapter
SEVEN
Finn slung his computer bag over his shoulder and rolled his suitcase toward the front desk so he could drop off his key card. The early-morning sun squeezed through the blinds of the hotel’s windows, and the smell of cheap coffee wafted down the hallway. His mouth watered at the scent. Cheap caffeine was still better than no caffeine. But he didn’t have time to visit the continental breakfast. He’d already cut it close enough, lingering a little longer than planned to make sure Liv didn’t call and need anything.
He hadn’t really expected her to reach out. Even if she did need help, she’d be too stubborn to admit it. He’d seen the look on her face when he’d told her she could call him if she needed him. He hadn’t meant it to sound like charity, but he also didn’t have anything else to offer. He didn’t know how to be someone’s friend beyond that anymore. Plus, he’d be undercover again in a few months, so why bother?
He peered around the corner at the end of the hallway to eye the setup of tables and chairs in the breakfast area. Only one table was taken—an elderly man eating pastries and reading the newspaper. Finn let out a breath and headed to the front desk. The night manager was still on duty, face in his phone, scrolling through something and completely ignoring Finn.
Finn cleared his throat. “Checking out of 348. Just charge the amount to the card on file.”
The guy looked up and then frowned when he recognized Finn. “What about the door? My boss—”
“Put that on there, too, when you get it fixed.” Finn tossed the key card on the counter.
“Cool.” The guy took the key and went about printing the receipt, but his attention stayed on Finn. “What about that lady? Is she all right? I mean, she looked pretty freaked out last night. Is it because—”
“She’s fine.” Finn’s fist curled at his side. If the kid had been asking about Liv out of concern, that’d be one thing, but Finn had been reading people long enough to recognize morbid curiosity masking as kindness.
“I went to the same high school, you know?” the kid said, as if Finn had given some indication he wanted to engage in conversation. “Different name, obviously, but it weirded me out every time I passed the remembrance garden. I can’t imagine—”
“Forget it.” Finn grabbed his bag. “I don’t need a receipt.”
The last thing he had time for was this kid’s gawking. But before he could turn and get the hell out of there, a soft voice hit him in the back.
“Finn?”
The familiar sound of her saying his name made him wince. “Shit.”