Page 31 of A Violet Obsession

The matter-of-fact kindness in his voice almost breaks me.

“Thank you,” I say. “But I have to go.”

Vincent studies me for half a beat longer than is comfortable, and I have the awful sense he sees more than I want him to.

“You’re sure?”

No, not even a little.

“Yes.”

He nods.

Finn looks at Vincent with an expression that says he’s lost his mind. “You can’t be serious.”

Vincent holds his gaze and says nothing. For a second, I think Finn might refuse anyway. His whole body is locked tight, then he turns on his heel and stalks away without another word.

“Thank you again for letting me come here today,” I tell Vincent quietly, my throat already thick.

He extends a small black card with a silver E embossed on one side. A phone number is on the other. “If you change your mind, call us.”

I’m halfway to the front door when Finn reappears. The glasses are gone, and he’s added a dark hoodie to his outfit. He stares at me for a long moment without saying anything. His expression is controlled, but his eyes aren’t. They’re furious.

“Bye, Finn.” I take what is probably my last look at my first crush and turn to go.

I yelp when the bag is pulled from my shoulder. I’m fully prepared to keep fighting, but he just slings it over his own shoulder, opens the door, and waits for me to walk through.

“I’m taking you home.”

11

FINN

We don’t say a word on the drive to her apartment.

I don’t have any right to tell her she can’t go back there. I shouldn’t even care. But my body didn’t get the memo, because it feels like my ribs are being compressed every time I glance at her in the passenger seat, with her face turned toward the window, and the city lights sliding over her profile.

I pull into the parking lot of her building and kill the engine. The lot is poorly lit, and while I can count three cameras on the exterior of the building, one is angled at the sky, and the second is pointed at the dumpsters. Only the third one covers the main entrance.

Completely unacceptable.

“Thanks for your help today, Finn,” she murmurs, her hand already on the door handle.

She won’t look at me, and it’s starting to really bug me.

I open my door and get out. She stares at me across the hood of my truck when the alarm beeps, her expression somewhere between confused and annoyed.

“What are you doing?”

I pocket my keys and put my hand on her lower back to guide her forward.

Why are you touching her?

I pull my hand back and shove both fists into my pockets. “I’ll check your apartment, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

She flinches at my tone, and guilt twists in my gut. I don’t have to be such a dick. But part of me—a big part—is pissed that she’s trying to get rid of me.

Lily waves the fob on her keychain in front of the panel by the entrance, and I shake my head. Half the fobs in this city could probably bypass this system. The lobby is dim, and the carpet is worn thin near the elevators from what looks like years of move-ins and move-outs. A faint mildew smell clings to the air.