Finn - Page 122

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Aren’t you some kind of super soldier?”

I huff at her statement and roll my eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I like you, Finn.”

“Good to know.”

Tripp walks in with a plate of food, and immediately, I know it’s from Presley. The aroma of garlic chicken fills my room as memories flood my mind.

“Presley came by. She begged to see you.”

“What did you say?”

“The same thing I have the last six times she’s been here. You should have seen her, man. She’s not good. She’s carrying around a lot of regret. She wanted me to hand you this, too.” He lays an envelope on the bed next to the food tray.

“You need to talk to her, Reese. Stop her from coming over. It’s putting everyone in a bad position. She’s your best friend. Tripp is mine. This is not going anywhere.”

Reese nods in agreement. “She wants to be around you, Finn. She’s a caregiver by nature. You should let her be your friend.”

“Maybe one day that’ll be possible, but right now, it’s not. She chose to give up on us, on me, when I was vulnerable. Any other time, I’d have fought like hell and never taken no for an answer, but you weren’t there. She made up her mind, and if I hadn’t ended things, she would have waited until I was home, making me feel like a charity case.”

“Bitch,” Tripp utters under his breath.

“Hey! She’s hurting, too!” Reese jumps to her defense, jostling the bed and causing me to wince.

“Sorry, babe, but I call it like I see it. I like her, I do, but Finn is right. She made her decision. Time to live with it.”

“Please, Finn,” she pleads with me. “Talk to her. It doesn’t mean you have to get back together. Talking is just talking. You loved each other. Let her know you’re okay. Let her see you. She’s going out of her mind.”

“I’ll think about it. Can I eat in peace now?”

“Hell no. Either you join us in the living room, or I bring the recliner in here. There’s a game on tonight.” Tripp wiggles his eyebrows, and I throw my head back in mental exhaustion.

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m sick of waiting!” Ember strolls in with Robbie behind her, looking at me with fire in his eyes.

“Either you get your ass out here and eat with us, or I carry you. No way is my wife lying in bed with you, and there’s nowhere else to sit in this fucking room.”

“Robbie!” Ember ignores him and scoots in next to me, hugging me carefully. Robbie growls, and I practically see steam coming from his ears. Usually, I’d think this was hilarious, but tonight, I can’t laugh, so I kiss her on the forehead and push up.

“Okay, give me ten minutes. We’ll eat in the living room.” I eye Robbie as the others pile out. “You want to help me with the bandage?”

“Fucking hell. Finally, you ask for help?”

I grumble on the way to the shower and catch my reflection. I look like hell. My eyes are sunken and pale. The scruff on my face is a full-grown beard, unkempt and shaggy. The sweats I’m wearing are wrinkled and stink.

Shit, I’m scaring myself.

I turn on the shower and peel out of the clothes, pulling off the adhesive bandage covering the remains of my stitches. The shower helps relieve some of the tension in my shoulders, but nothing can help the aching in my heart. I grab my body wash and notice Presley’s shampoo still perched on the ledge.

Memories flood my mind of washing her hair and fucking her up against the tile as she whimpered uncontrollably, trying to hold in her cries. I picture the way her wet hair plastered against her head and how she shook when I forced myself to let her go, then kissed her until the water ran ice cold.

In such a short amount of time, she infiltrated my life so much that even showering becomes painful.

Fuckin’ A, it’s time I start to move on.

Tags: Ahren Sanders Romance
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