Page 49 of Wish I Were Here
“Shit, are you okay?” Luca asks, and I feel his warm hand slide down my back through the thin material of my scrub shirt. He presses gently, as if he’s blindly checking me for injuries.
I do my best to flip over but quickly realize my mistake. Because now, in the complete darkness, his hand is sliding up the front of me. It brushes the side of my breast before finding my shoulder and curling around it. I shiver, though my body is quickly heating up.
“Um, I guess so,” I manage. He’s still half sprawled on top of me, his breath warm near my ear, our legs tangled together. I still can’t see a thing, but I’m aware of every hard plane of his body, andokayisn’t exactly the word to describe what I’m feeling.
“Why were you crouching on the floor?” he whispers in my ear, and the stubble on his cheek brushes the side of my face.
“I dropped my phone when you ran into me. Where’s yours?” I reach out a hand as if I’m looking for his phone. But I’m not going to lie; a little part of me just wants an excuse to run my palm downhischest.
His breath hitches, just the tiniest bit. “Uh, I left it in my jeans. In the car.”
“Why did you let the door close before we could turn on a light?”
He shifts above me. “I heard another door open down the hall.”
“From themorgue?” I shudder. “You said nobody would be in the morgue at one in the morning.”
“Yeah.” Luca breathes out a laugh. “It’s probably a ghost.”
“Stop it.” I reach out in the darkness, and this time I give him a shove. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, not me.” I hesitate. “But if Idid, I’d definitely expect to find one in a creepy hospital basement in the pitch darkness.”
Luca laughs again, pushing himself to a seated position and pulling me along with him. I expect him to let go, buthis hand stays firmly wrapped around my shoulder. “Catherine.” His voice is more subdued now.
“Yeah?” For some reason, it comes out breathless.
“I’m really glad to be here with you.”
Somehow, I know he doesn’t mean he’s glad to sit on a cold tile floor being stalked by ghosts in a creepy hospital basement. He’s glad to be withme, wherever we are. This fills my chest with warmth and makes me feel strangely like crying at the same time.
“I’m really glad to be with you, too,” I whisper, reaching for his hand because I can’t meet his eyes, and I need to show him what I’m feeling. He laces his fingers with mine.
“I guess we should find your phone and face these files,” he says with a sigh.
I reluctantly pull away and feel around on the floor again.
“Found it,” Luca says a minute later. He stands, clicking on the light and setting the phone on top of a box so it bathes the room in a soft blue glow.
I do a slow spin in the center of the room, staring at the contents. “Oh my God.”
“Oh boy,” Luca mutters.
The file boxes that I’d caught a short glimpse of before we were plunged into darkness are piledeverywhere, one on top of the other, shoved into every available corner, practically towering overhead. It looks like a hoarder lives here. I step toward one of the piles and check out the label on the side.Da-Dal, the label reads. Okay, so this box must contain files for people whose name begins with D. But there must be ten or fifteen boxes just for the Ds. And there are twenty-fiveother letters in the alphabet. Next to the Ds sit the Rs. Nothing is in order.
“I was expecting a filing cabinet or something. We’ll be here all night.” I turn to Luca, who is staring at the boxes with the same wide-eyed expression that must be stamped on my face. “I’m sorry, Luca. I can’t ask you to do this. It’s too… disorganized.”
His lips quirk.
“What?”
“You’re okay with breaking and entering, but you draw the line at disorganization?”
“No.” I pause. “Yes.” Idohate disorganization. What do these people have against filing cabinets?
As if he can read my mind, Luca gives a sharp laugh. “You should have brought your label maker.”
