I swallow with difficulty. “Hey.”
When he speaks, his voice is a ghost of its former self. “Hey.” He take a step into the room and closes the door behind him. “I got here as soon as I could. Flights were scarce.”
He’s here, that’s all that matters to me. I should sit up, make myself appear strong and capable and all that. But, unless someone comes to wheel my ass out of here, I’m not moving until I have to.
“I think I was hit by a guy on a bike.” Everything’s kind of hazy but I remember two wheels and a handlebar.
The grooves around his mouth deepen. “You were.”
He moves like an old man, making his way to my side. I watch him come, little tremors quaking in my belly. I want to hug him so badly my arms twitch. He sits in the chair by my bedside, his body too big for its stingy frame. Up close, he looks worse, careworn and exhausted. I empathize.
“Is the guy okay?” My memory is fairly shitty right now. Apparently, concussions can do that to a person.
“Couple of scrapes. Broken wrist.” Finn’s expression is blank, barely a flicker of movement. He glances down at my hand resting on the bed.
“How ironic. Mine just healed.”
The corners of his mouth pinch. “Love that you can joke. Two times, I’ve had to hear you were in the hospital.” Blue eyes pin me to the stop. “That’s two times too many.”
“It’s not like I planned this.”
He grunts.
“I’m not even a clumsy person. Both times they ran into me.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of looking both ways, Chester?” He actually glares.
“It was a one way street. Who thinks to look for rando bikers going the wrong way?”
“You do. From now on. Jesus.” He wipes a hand over his mouth. “My heart can’t take another call like that, okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” I am. Not for getting hit, but for putting that look of abject fear in his eyes.
Finn scowls. “Don’t be sorry. How do you feel?”
Whatever they gave me, makes my body sluggish in the best of ways.
“Fuzzy.” I blink down at my body. The inside of my elbow has a bandaid on it from where they put an IV in earlier. A saline drip that had provided cool relief and, later, some very exceptional painkillers. One thing to love about a hospital, I guess. “I can’t remember what I look like. Give me a damage report.”
His throat works on a swallow. “A few scrapes and bruises on your right temple and cheek.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“Debatable.”
This is not the reunion I’d planned. Finn is here, and clearly worried about me, but he’s distant and fairly humming with some emotion I can’t figure out. My memory clears a little more and a bolt of horror runs through me. “Oh, shit.”
Instantly, Finn jolts as if pinched. “What? Are you hurting? Talk to me.”
“Jake. How is he?”
Finn settles down with a scowl then rubs a hand over his face. “He sprained his neck. And, like you, has a concussion. He’s out for the season but, all in all, he got lucky.”
“I saw it happen. I was so scared.”
His skin pales, and his lashes lower. “Me too.”
“I know. I should have been there.”
Finn glares down at his fists.
I want to touch him, stroke away the stiffness along his neck and shoulders. But he looks as if one touch will shatter him, and I don’t know what to say to bridge the gap between us. “Did you win?”
The muscle on his jaw bunches. “Yes. We weren’t going down without a fight.”
But there’s no emotion in his words. He keeps glaring at his fists as if he’s thinking of punching something. I don’t know what to do.
“You were magnificent,” I tell him with a soft voice.
He grunts.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Yes.”
It lashes like a whip.
I bite my lower lip, look away, blinking hard.
None of the harshness leaves his voice. “I’m trying not to lose it.”
Guilt pulls at my heart. He witnessed his best friend get knocked out on the field. Jake could have died, and I know how much that affects Finn.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” My voice is a thread, reaching out for him.
Silence greets me instead. The force of his stare is a heavy hand on my chest. I turn to face him. Wide eyes filled with outrage and anger glare back at me.
“You think I’d be anywhere else than at your side?”
“Jake—”
“God…” Finn laughs but then, without warning, his eyes well up and his lips twist. I stare in shock as his chin quivers and he lets out a harsh exhale that ends in a strangled sob.
“Hey,” I whisper.
His chest heaves, a horrible pained movement, and he leans in, rests his head on my belly. “Fuck, Chess,” he says on a choked breath. His arm slings around my hips, fingers clutching my side. “You have no idea what it does to me to see you like this. I cannot stand seeing you hurt. I can’t.”
I stoke his hair. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“It’s not okay.” He lifts his head and looks at me with eyes that are wet. “I got that call from James telling me I needed to get to the hospital because you were there, and my life fucking stopped. Do you understand? Your life stops, mine does too.”
A shudder racks me, my heart swelling in the hollow cavity of my chest. “Oh, Finn. Come here.”
But he doesn’t listen. He sits back in his chair, his expression resolute and hard. “So, yeah, I’m mad. You left me. And you got hurt. You can’t get hurt. And you can’t leave me again, Chester. I won’t survive.”
My big, strong man waits for an answer, his body tense in the char, silvery trails of tears running down his cheeks. He’s left his heart wide open for me, without shame or hesitation.
My vision wavers, and I blink to clear it. When I’m able to speak, emotion garbles my words. “Take my hand.”