I snatch one greedily. “Will you be back?”
“I won’t. But don’t worry. The nurses and hospital security will make sure you’re safe.”
Beep, beep, beep.
“Thank you.” I don’t want him to leave, but I’m not the only one in Manhattan who needs him tonight. “For saving me.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” He scoffs as if I’ve offended him. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
With that, Alaric turns around. The curtain opens and closes when he leaves me alone.
Alone, but not scared.
He promised nothing would happen to me, and I trust him.
1
LILITH
PRESENT DAY – SEVEN YEARS LATER
The sun is slowly setting over Manhattan as we finish unpacking Hope’s stuff in her bedroom.
Hands firm on my hips, a tired smile tugging at my mouth, I take in my foster sister’s new domain.
Lace curtains drape over her windows, and soft pastel yellow paint coats the walls, almost the same shade as her hair. A cushy loveseat sits beside white-washed shelves lined up against the wall. Only a handful of cooking and baking books fill them, but not for long. Soon, they’ll be packed so full we’ll have to get more.
Now that I can afford it, I’ll get her anything and everything she wants.
For as long as we’ve known each other—since I was fifteen and Hope was eleven—I had nothing to give her until a few months ago.
At first,when the system placed me in foster care in Maine, away from the media circus and my mother’s connections, I was a broke kid. I had no access to Mom’s credit cards, even though she’d disappeared a day after the brutal attack on me.
When I turned seventeen, the Griggs, our foster parents, wanted what was best for me and showed that with their actions. They hired a lawyer to represent me, someone who pushed the court to declare Mom legally dead so the estate could finally be settled.
By some miracle, the ruling came through soon after, but that was only the beginning.
Renata Rayne, a bitch to the very end, left a stipulation in her will: either I got my college degree, or I was on my own.
I was so close to sayingfuck itand enjoying my humble barista income and the simple life that came with it.
But I couldn’t do that to Hope. My best friend. My foster sister and chosen sister.
After being beaten to within an inch of her life by her parents before CPS stepped in, she deserved a fresh start. A fabulous one.
To make that happen, I bowed to Mom. I got my BA in English Lit in Maine, close enough to visit Hope while she stayed with the Griggs and finished high school.
Now that all of it is behind us, we’re here, living in a gorgeous apartment in NYC.
The best part, though? I’m finally close tohim.
Dr. Lockwood.
Alaric.
It’s been seven long years since that one night I was his patient. We haven’t spoken since, haven’t been in touch.
I doubt he remembers me. At least that’s what I’m counting on. The memory of the bruised, wounded kid shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when his eyes lock on mine.