Page 123 of Graves

“Is that why you’re offering me the job?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Now that the whole world knows who my father is, I don’t have many options left.”

Luke laughs. “What? No! I don’t need to offer it to you. It’s already yours. You founded the practice. That position belongs to you.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “It feels good to hear that.”

“Is everything else okay?” Luke sounds genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” I answer half-heartedly, picking at my thumb. It’s hard to pretend that it actually is.

“How are things going?”

I raise my head and meet his gaze.

A deep crease forms between Luke’s brows. “You didn’t think you could avoid the subject by grilling me about the practice, did you?”

“Worth a try,” I admit with a shrug.

“So? How are things?”

I sigh. “At first, we hated each other. Then we somehow found a way… but now everything’s gotten so complicated.”

“Did you…”

I know exactly what Luke is getting at, so I keep talking. “He’s doing drugs. Completely lost. And he won’t talk to me anymore.” I pause, trying not to show how much thinking about Aran affects me. “Maybe it was me too. And now that it’s public… He denied knowing me in time, but… if this blows back on him and he gets linked to the Mafia… it could end his career for good.”

“I’m sorry if this sounds harsh,” Luke says carefully, holding up a reassuring hand to show he doesn’t want to overstep, “but to me it looks like the guy is nothing but trouble. I don’t know how close you two were—or are—but even as a roommate, he can never give you the stability you need. He’s a rockstar and a murderer on top of that. And the way I know you… you’re someone who needs a clear structure. That gives you security and support.”

Luke’s words ease the knot of confusion in my mind.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to draw a line and go back to Astoria.”

“And to the practice,” he jokes with a wink.

Is it healthy to ignore the past? We still haven’t talked about what happened a year ago. One day I was there, the next I disappeared off the face of the earth. Luke hasn’t brought it up yet, which is strange.

The longer I think about it, the worse my guilty conscience gets. Who does something like that?

It’s like those cliché stories about men who go out for cigarettes and never come back, officially declared missing after three years.

But Luke found me.

The reunion was cautious and restrained. He approached me slowly, careful not to make any mistakes—like I was a skittish deer that would bolt at the slightest disturbance.

My year in the West Village is already starting to fade like old memories.

What was I even doing there?

My life is here, in Astoria.

It was only Aran who, for the first time in weeks, made me feel like I had found a home there. I can’t deny it any longer. I’d spent the entire year feeling like a stranger.

“Should I drive you home?” Luke asks.

I glance at the clock above the counter. It’s almost eight.