Page 4 of Forever Finn

“Blame the beer,” Jesse snorts. “I didn’t even invite me. I just remember waking up in a hotel room with a wedding ring on.”

“Urgh,” I groan as the vein in my temple pulses. “As fun as this is, Jess, is there actually a reason for this call?”

“No, I just like waking you at the arse crack of dawn on a Sunday morning for kicks.” He chuckles.

“You think I’m too hungover to sense sarcasm?”

“The jury’s still out on that one.” He sniffs. “Of course, there’s a reason. I have an emergency, so shove your hook-up out of bed and send them on their way. I need you to get back to the bay asap.”

“Hook-up?” I frown as I glance once more at the empty room in confusion, fragments of the dream flickering through my mind like a very disjointed film reel that Charlie Chaplin himself would be proud of.

“You mean to tell me there wasn’t a hook up last night? Because I wouldn’t like to call you a liar before breakfast.”

“Uh… I’m not sure about that. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“What?” he replies slowly. “You’re not sure if you hooked up last night? Oh my god, Wyatt, you weren’t roofied, were you?” he says in concern.

“Nope, I’m pretty sure it was self-inflicted.” I flop back against the pillows and close my eyes against the throbbing pain in my head. “But I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“I really don’t have time for your sex fantasies right now, Wyatt, as fascinating as they probably are. I really have an emergency.”

“What’s going on?” I frown in concern as I push myself up gingerly.

“Someone just brought in a litter of strays they found down by the pier. We can’t find the mother, but there are four surviving puppies. They’re really young, probably not more than a couple of days old, if that, so it’s all hands on deck. I could really use your help.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I nod, wincing at the pressure in my head. “But I can’t drive. I’m still over the limit.”

“That’s not a problem. Where are you?” he asks.

“Newquay,” I murmur.

“I’ll get Deacon to come get you.”

I wince. “Isn’t my hangover punishment enough without having to put up with that smart ass husband of yours?”

“Afraid not,” he replies, and I swear I can hear the grin in his voice. “You’ve got about an hour.”

He hangs up, and I flop back on the bed with a groan. Ever since I arrived in the small Cornish bay four months ago to work as a full-time veterinarian at Jesse’s practice, he’s quickly become one of my closest friends, as has his husband Deacon, but there are times, like this morning, when I just can’t deal with their nauseatingly sarcastic yet adorable relationship.

I stare at the ceiling with an unconscious frown. Something about last night is tugging at my memory, something important, but no matter what, I just can’t seem to recall what it is. I rub my chest uncomfortably. It’s probably just the hangover. Coffee is definitely the answer. I’ll just have Deak stop by Florrie’s on the way home. One of her Lucifer blends when I get back to the bay is just what I need to fix me up, at least I hope it will because I have a really weird feeling in my gut, and I haven’t got a clue what’s causing it.

3

Ipull the baseball cap down further on my head, and even though I’m wearing sunglasses, my eyes feel like they’re full of grit and the bright daylight feels like a million tiny needles in my retinas.

I try to swallow, but it feels like my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I’d give anything to brush my teeth right now. When I’d woken up in the hotel room of the Viking god from the night before, I’d panicked. He was out cold from the looks of it, snoring softly and hanging off a bed that was clearly not designed with a man of his size in mind.

Jesus, I wonder idly if he’s in proportion. Whatever he’d been packing in those tight jeans had felt like a monster as we made out, grinding desperately against each other on the tiny sofa.

Fuck, I really do not need to be thinking about that right now. The last thing I need is an inconvenient hard on to go with my banging hangover. I’m desperate for a coffee, but I don’t want to risk being recognised in the cold light of day. Newquay isn’t exactly huge, but it’s busy enough and heading toward tourist season. In fact, I couldn’t have picked a worse time to have my little meltdown and impulsively decide to head back to my hometown.

I head toward my rental car and slide into the driver’s seat. Clutching the wheel with trembling fingers, I take several slow measured breaths, fighting the hollow ache and nausea in my stomach as much as the vague sense of panic.

What the hell am I doing?

The truth is, I don’t know anymore. All I know is that I feel like I’m slowly drowning, and no one’s even noticed, let alone cares. I swallow convulsively at the sudden moisture in my mouth as I reach for the key and turn the ignition, listening as the car purrs to life.

Hooking up my phone to the car’s Bluetooth so I can listen to some music, I carefully reverse out of the parking space and just drive. Pretty soon Newquay disappears and I’m out on the narrow winding roads heading down the coast. I know where I’m heading. It’s been over fifteen years since I’ve set foot in the bay, and although I don’t quite understand what’s driving me to go back, I think it’s something I need to do.