Page 115 of The Hot Shot

Finn rubs his hand over his face, and he suddenly looks exhausted. “Yes.”

Britt looks up at him with eyes that sparkle with pain and something deeper. “She would have been so beautiful, don’t you think?”

He swallows hard. “Of course she would have.”

This is too personal. I’m an intruder here. I move to go when Finn grabs my hand and holds it tight. His fleeting look is clear: he expects me to stay. I settle back with some reluctance, and he threads his fingers through mine as he sits on the arm of the couch. His warmth presses into my shoulder, as if he needs me to brace him. “We will never forget her. But, Britt, we have to find a way to move on.”

She looks appalled and disgusted with him, and Finn blanches as if struck. My heart hurts for him, because he’s right. It isn’t callous to want that.

“I can’t,” she grits out.

My thumb strokes the back of Finn’s hand.

“We don’t know each other,” I say to Britt. “And I understand that this isn’t the greatest way to meet. But have you thought about going to talk to someone?”

Britt jerks her chin, her gaze darting away. “I don’t need that. I’m not completely broken.”

“It’s not a sign of weakness to seek help,” I say. “I did once.”

Finn twitches with surprise, but he doesn’t utter a word. His hand, however, holds mine a little tighter.

“I had to deal with some things a few years ago,” I tell her, ignoring the jitters that start up in my belly. They always dowhen I talk about that time, so it isn’t a surprise. “And I had a hard time coping for a while. I know it isn’t the same as your loss—yes, Finn told me. But I know how depression can consume you.”

Britt stares at me, her eyes wide and a bit glazed. I know that look, too. I used to see it in the mirror. There are days I still do. She licks her reddened lips, as if nervous. “And it worked?”

“It helped a lot. I went to a counselor. It was a safe space where I could talk, get things off my chest.” She bites her bottom lip, her fingers clenching, and I put my free hand on hers. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to continue.”

With a sigh, she stands. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” Finn assures. And I’ll give him credit, even though he’d been a mess when she arrived, he sounds sincere now.

But Britt shakes her head, her gaze darting to Finn. “I was obviously interrupting something.”

It’s only then I truly notice that Finn’s wearing a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms and nothing else. Which must be a testament to my distraction because he looks delicious.

Finn looks down at himself, and his skin colors a little, going a rosy-deep gold hue. “Right.”

He puts his hands low on his hips, then seems to realize that only highlights his muscles, because his hands drop to his sides. He shifts his weight as if not knowing what the hell to do.

I stand as well. “If you’d like, I can get you the contact info for the person I saw.”

“Thanks. But I’ll find someone.” Britt gives me a tight smile, but it’s clear she wants to bolt. I don’t blame her, and I’m not going to stand in her way. Sometimes, you have to lick your wounds in private.

I back away, letting her pass.

“Give me a second,” Finn says to me, and leads Britt to the door.

They stop in the hallway, heads bent, talking in low voices.From an artistic standpoint, they look beautiful together, her light to his dark. I swear, their combined fame has a glow to it. Something about them makes you keep looking, even if you don’t want to.

I never expected to be with someone like Finn. He will never fully be mine. I will always have to share him with the public. I’m okay with that. I’m proud of Finn. But seeing him standing with Britt pulls my thoughts down darker, less secure roads that I’m not proud of.

It’s bothered me before, but now those old insecurities are suddenly on display in all their ugly glory. I don’t want to see them any more than I want to view Britt and Finn as a pretty pair. But I can’t look away.

I want to be back in bed, wrapped up in sex and Finn, where the real world is a distant murmur, and the present is nothing but pleasure and warmth. I want it so badly that if feels like desperation. And that scares me.

Nineteen

Finn