He slides in beside me, and Clay lies on top of my legs, hugging them. Needing more contact, I reach down to stroke his hair.
“She’s going to be asleep in a minute.” Joshua snickers, caressing my cheek.
I don’t care if I am. I know I’m safe and loved. I never have to be afraid again because they have me.
Howie is living his best life. Chiara is safe and has a promising future. And damn, it seems like I have a pretty great one too.
“I love you,” I mumble.
“We love you more,” Joshua soothes, kissing my temple.
BONUS CHAPTER
TWO YEARS LATER
I’m going to throw up.
And not metaphorically, either. My stomach is doing that thing where it tries to crawl out of my throat and hide under the nearest chair.
Standing in the wings of the auditorium, my black gown swishes around my ankles, and the stupid flat cap is pinching my scalp. The air back here is too warm, heavy with dust and stage lights.
Applause leaks through the curtain in muffled waves, each burst tightening something in my chest. They’re already out there.
Waiting.
I wipe my palms against the fabric of my gown and immediately regret it.
Summa cum laude.
Top 0.5% of the graduating class. Master of Science in Forensic Chemistry, New York University.
The words don’t feel real yet.
They sound like they belong to someone else’s life.
Two years ago, I laughed when Sophia asked about grad school. The next day, I signed up anyway. Now I’ve got a 3.98 GPA and a lab coat hanging in my closet with my name stitched on it in purple thread, because Sophia thought it would be “cute.”
Someone’s name gets called, the crowd claps politely, and I shuffle forward one spot. My heels click too loudly on the hardwood, and I think of Xander insisting they’d make me feel steadier, but all they do is make my wobbly self a little taller.
I sneak a glance past the curtain, and the sight sends a wave of calm through me—my stomach unclenches, just enough that I can take a full breath again.
There, in the front row, Howie is sitting with a bright smile, blazer and everything, eyes already glassy. Sophia is next to him, clutching a pack of tissues. Chiara’s sitting between her and Leo, holding a glittery sign that saysWE STAN A LAB QUEENin purple Sharpie, and in the second row, right behind them, aremy men.
Clay is standing on his fucking chair, phone up, filming, and Joshua is unsuccessfully trying to yank him down by the belt. Xander is in head-to-toe black, arms crossed, with sunglasses on indoors so he can pretend he’s not crying, but I can see the tremor in his jaw from here.
In the third row is half the goddamn crime lab—colleagues who have turned into friends over the years. I didn’t realize howmany people were holding me up, but seeing them all together is a welcomed sight.
Yep, I’m going to throw up for real.
Or maybe if I open my mouth, I’ll laugh. Or both.
My body hasn’t decided whether this is terror or joy, and I don’t trust it either way.
“Carolina Costa.” The dean says my name, and I force myself to move.
There it is. The part where I either black out or become a functional adult in public.
Don’t trip. Don’t trip.
