Page 20

I let my hands fall to my lap. Finn worked quickly, silently, loosening the tie, unfastening the first few buttons of my shirt.

He helped me shrug clumsily out of my jacket, slipping it from my shoulders and tossing it to the chair by the window.

He unclipped my cufflinks, setting them with a soft clink on the nightstand.

It was faster, easier to let him take care of this, so I sat silent and acquiescent.

I didn’t understand why he was being so kind, given the things he’d said that morning.

He knelt to remove my shoes, and I stared down at the pale gleam of his head.

“You’re a good person,” I said.

He gave a funny half-laugh, half-snort. “Thanks.”

I managed the slacks on my own, barely, and then climbed onto the covers in my undershirt and boxers. I turned onto my side and curled slightly, one hand tucked under the pillow, the other pressing my temple like I could pin the pain in place.

But the pain seeped out from beneath my fingers, expanded. I could feel the angry pound of blood beneath my skin.

Finn bent over me. I could smell his cologne—Costa Azzurra—oceanic, cool, faintly herbal. The scent was weirdly grounding.

“Medication?”

I blinked, considering. “I don’t think I can keep it down yet.”

“Okay. So, then the stuff you take so you can keep the meds down?”

It was beyond me to explain. “It’s all in my rescue bag on the dresser.” I closed my eyes, surrendered to the monster. I wondered if Finn could see my head pounding from across the room.

He retrieved the bag, disappeared into the master bath, and returned with a glass of water and a pill. “Anti-nausea first.”

I shoved up on elbow and he pressed the pill, warm from his hand, into my fingers. I put the pill under my tongue. “It’ll dissolve. I don’t need the water.” My stomach quivered at the very idea and dropped back to the pillows.

“Okay, once that kicks in, you can take your pain meds. What else?”

I swallowed dryly, praying the Zofran wasn’t coming right back up. “Nothing. Really. Thank you. You should get back. You’ll be missed.”

His tall shadow stood over me, motionless as he thought. “You want to get under the blankets?”

I did. I was cold. But the logistics of completely undressing were impossible.

“No. I have to take my contacts out.” I added wearily, “As soon as I can sit without throwing up.”

Finn turned without a word and disappeared into the master bath again. The light came on through the partially open door. I heard his washing up. He returned with a bottle of saline, a clean contact case from my travel kit, and tissues.

I pushed up again, wearily. “It’s a full-service rescue mission.”

“This is what we train for.”

I took saline and tissues with shaking hands.

He must have felt the tremor, because he said, “Did you want some help?”

That woke me a little. “ Help ? No offense, but—”

“Byron’s worn contacts since he was eight, so I actually do have some experience here. I have to turn the light back on, though.”

“I’m relieved that you recognize that fact.”

He breathed a quiet laugh, the mattress dipped as he sat beside me on the bed. “I’m turning the lamp on now.”

He reached over, the click was loud between us, golden radiance spilled into the gloom. I grimaced, closed my eyes.

“Sorry. It’s just for a sec.” His breath was light and cool on my face, his fingers warm as he tilted my chin up, palm steady beneath my jaw, guiding me toward him.

He said, and there was the faintest thread of humor in his voice. “You have to open your eyes.”

I lifted my lashes. Our gazes were level. There were tiny gold flecks around the irises of his eyes. I’d never noticed before.

“Look straight ahead.”

It was hard not to flinch—that’s the instinct when someone’s reaching toward your eye.

I swallowed hard, held very still. My head shook a little.

“You’re okay,” he murmured.

“That’s not what you said this morning.”

He didn’t move and then his thumb very gently brushed my lower lid down, coaxing the lens out with a rinse of saline and edge of folded tissue. It helped that the tears were back. Jesus. It was like I was melting from the inside out. Wet drizzled silently down my cheeks.

Left eye. Then right.

“Got them,” he murmured. He looked away as I hastily brushed my damp face. He sealed the case and clicked the lamp back off. Darkness fell like the softest of blankets.

I said in an ordinary voice, “Thank you. That was above and beyond.”

And very weird. But what the hell was one more weirdness in this alternate universe I now lived in?

Finn’s shadow rose, returned to the bathroom. That light went out, too.

I reached for the Rizatriptan, and he said from overhead, “Wait. You’re supposed to give the other stuff twenty minutes.”

“Hasn’t it been?”

“It’s been maybe five.”

I let out a groan that was largely frustration, kicked my way between the sheets and pulled the covers over my head.

From outside my cocoon, I heard, “Would you like some ice?”

I asked tersely, “Are we having drinks?”

“Ice in a towel. Would that help?”

Yes. Probably. I said nothing.

After a few heartbeats, I realized he’d finally left.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.