Page 29 of When You’re Broken (Finn Wright #11)

Finn parked the car outside Rob's house, switching off the engine as the last glimmer of dusk deepened into true night.

Two months had passed since the final confrontation with Wendell Reed in that derelict police station, yet the sense of relief in Finn's chest still felt new, raw, and immense.

He glanced at Amelia, who sat in the passenger seat, adjusting the collar of her coat.

The faint bruising along her neck had mostly faded, but Finn knew the mental scars of nearly being hanged by Wendell would linger longer.

“You ready?” Amelia asked softly, meeting his eyes. She wore a calm expression, though a swirl of emotions no doubt churned behind it.

Finn nodded, turning off the headlights. "As I'll ever be," he replied. "Let's go see how Sleeping Beauty is doing."

Her lips twitched in a small smile. “He hates that title, you know.”

“Then he shouldn’t have stayed in that coma for weeks,” Finn said, pushing open the driver’s door.

A slight chill in the April air brushed his face as he emerged.

He walked around the bonnet, meeting Amelia at the sidewalk.

Together, they took the short path leading to Rob’s front door, the glow of lamps inside revealing a warm interior.

It was a modest but charming detached home perched on a slight hill.

The house had a small garden area out front, where the first hints of spring flowers poked through soil.

The windows along the face of the building cast soft, welcoming light on the well-kept lawn.

Finn recalled the bleakness of weeks prior, imagining the ambulance lights flashing, uncertain if Rob would make it. Now, things seemed… brighter.

Amelia rang the doorbell. Instantly, they heard footsteps inside. The door opened to reveal Eleanor, her blonde hair twisted up in a simple clip. She wore a relaxed yet stylish outfit that spoke of her art world background, and her wide smile gave way to a teasing spark.

“Finn, Amelia!” she greeted, stepping aside to let them in. “You’re right on time. Rob’s just about managed to make it off the couch, in typical stubborn style.”

Finn stepped into the warm hallway, inhaling the scent of roasted vegetables and a hint of rosemary. “Thanks for having us over,” he said, smiling politely. The interior felt cozy—soft lighting, the murmur of a simmering pot from the kitchen, and faint music playing from a small speaker somewhere.

Eleanor led them to a lounge at the front of the house, where they’d set a simple dinner table, presumably repurposing a low coffee table.

The place was tidied, though still showing subtle signs of a nursing environment: a couple of pillows to keep Rob comfortable, a half-folded blanket draped over the armchair.

Amelia’s brother, Brendan, was already there, perched on one side of the sofa. He looked remarkably better than the day Finn found him tied up in that police station. His posture was more solid, color in his cheeks. He rose with an easy half-smile. “Hey, you two.”

Amelia’s grin brightened, and she moved toward Brendan, giving him a brief side-hug. It was still new, that closeness, but each day they bridged a bit more of the lost time.

Then Finn spotted Rob. The man was sitting with both legs outstretched. He wore comfortable, loose clothes, the kind that wouldn’t press on his healing bullet wound. The lines of fatigue showed in his face, but nothing could hide the raw relief that sparkled in his eyes.

“Finn! Amelia!” Rob exclaimed, lifting a hand. “Don’t mind me, just a bit stiff.”

Finn moved over to him, chuckling under his breath. “Better stiff than a stiff, right?”

Rob offered a playful scowl. “I guess you’d say that. But you try having half your side patched up with staples. Then we’ll see who’s cracking jokes.”

Amelia laughed gently, letting her gaze sweep over them. "We're just happy you're up and talking. This time, three weeks ago, you were barely coherent."

“Blame it on the morphine,” Rob deadpanned, and they all shared a short laugh.

Eleanor cleared her throat, stepping forward with a flourish.

“Since we’re all gathered, I have just the thing for this evening: a special bottle of wine I’ve been saving for…

oh, who knows how long. But I figure if the last two weeks aren’t a cause for a ‘thank god we’re alive’ celebration, nothing is. ”

Amelia perked an eyebrow at that. “I like the sound of that,” she said, though her tone carried a mild caution that Finn spotted. He stored the detail away as a curiosity.

Rob made to push himself up from his seat. “I’ll fetch it,” he said firmly. “You all just watch.”

“Easy,” Amelia admonished. “No rushing around.”

“He’s milking this,” Finn added.

But Rob already had his palms braced on the sofa arms, wincing as he stood. “And I thought a bullet to the gut was painful… But now I have to listen to Finn’s jokes again.” He grinned through clenched teeth, clearly still in some pain.

Finn rose hastily, flinching at the mild throb in his own leg. He still had a slight limp from the wound. “I’ll help,” he offered, trailing after Rob as they walked, or more accurately limped, toward the kitchen.

“Please do,” Rob said, exhaling with relief. “Never realized how heavy a wine bottle can be.”

“Race you,” Finn joked as they limped along.

Once they were out of earshot, crossing into the small but well-lit kitchen, Rob let out a long breath.

The overhead lamp glinted off the counters, stainless steel appliances standing at polished attention.

The range hissed lightly from residual heat of cooking. Finn paused to ensure Rob was stable.

“You sure you’re all right?” Finn asked softly, leaning his weight on the counter. “We’d understand if you’re still not up to it.”

Rob shot him a sidelong glare that lacked real venom. “I’m fine. I just needed to stand. And besides, you’re limping yourself. Some pair we make, stumbling around like geriatric men. Next, we’ll be fighting over who gets the walker first.”

Finn grinned, rummaging in a cupboard for glasses. “I’d say you have me beat for dramatic injuries. Coma from a gunshot to the stomach trumps a battered calf.” He sobered for a second. “I’m just… so damned relieved you pulled through. You had us all terrified.”

Rob set his hands on the counter, gaze drifting toward the archway leading to the lounge.

From there, the murmur of conversation provided a calm background.

“I didn’t realize how precarious that line was until waking up in that hospital bed.

It’s humbling, I guess. But seeing them—” he nodded toward the voices, “—makes it worth it. Even if I nearly died for it.”

Finn glimpsed Eleanor’s silhouette, seated next to Amelia and Brendan, the three of them exchanging quiet words.

“It’s good to see your place full of life again,” Finn commented.

“And seeing Amelia reconnect with her brother… That’s part of what we fought for.

Well, that and the fact Wendell needed to be stopped.

Hopefully he’ll never see the light of day again. ”

A flicker of warmth passed across Rob’s face. “Family is a complicated thing, but it’s important,” he said. “Not all family is blood, though.” He let that statement hang, glancing at Finn meaningfully. “You, me, we’ve been like family for a while now, yeah?”

Finn felt his chest tighten with an emotion he seldom voiced. “The medication must be really strong.” He hesitated. “You going sentimental on me, Rob?”

Rob’s lips twitched in a half grin. “Trust you to ruin a nice moment. Let’s see about that wine.

” He rummaged in a lower cabinet, retrieving a dark green bottle and holding it up to the overhead light.

The label had turned yellowish at the edges, the writing in an elegant script.

“Eleanor’s prized vintage. She’s threatened me with bodily harm for trying to open this before, so I’m guessing it’s the prized vintage. ”

Finn grabbed the corkscrew from a drawer. “We deserve something nice after what we’ve been through.” He paused, glancing at Rob’s bandaged torso. “But let’s not overdo it on the alcohol, right?”

Rob huffed. “Don’t fuss. I’ll have a glass and I’ll enjoy it. Then maybe I’ll slump on the couch while you kids talk your heads off.”

“You’re definitely not going on duty next week, right?” Finn asked with a raised eyebrow. “Because if I find you at your desk, I might shoot you myself. You can barely stand.”

A wry grin touched Rob’s face. “I wish everyone would stop coddling me. The Home Office says I can do light tasks. No heavy field work. Desk duty’s possible.”

Finn shook his head. “You should rest. If you throw yourself back in, you’ll do yourself no favors. The bullet that nearly killed you is reason enough to lounge for as long as you can.”

Rob’s eyes flicked with frustration, but he acquiesced. “You’re all conspiring against me, I see.”

Before Finn could retort, they heard Amelia calling from the lounge. “What’s taking you two so long? We’re starving!”

Rob winked at Finn, as if to say Let’s go.

They gathered the bottle of wine and some glasses, stepping back into the lounge where the others waited.

Finn took slow steps, trying not to aggravate his own leg.

He spotted Amelia, hands folded on the table, looking mildly impatient but also a touch amused.

Eleanor rose to help, gently tugging Rob’s arm to guide him to his seat again. “Sit, you stubborn man. Let me handle the pouring.” She offered a supportive hand under Rob’s elbow.

"He's not stubborn," Finn said. "He's just slow. I mean, he really should have jumped out of the way of that bullet."

“Maybe if Finn had landed on his head when he fell through that floor,” Rob retorted. “He’d finally get into triple IQ points.”

As Rob eased into the chair with a soft grunt, Brendan looked on, curiosity shining. “So, are Finn and Rob always like this?” he asked, directing the question to the two women.

Amelia and Eleanor exchanged a glance, then in unison said, “Always.” Their immediate synchronization drew laughter around the table.

Finn stepped in to place the glasses, glancing at the battered bottle. “So this is the fancy vintage, huh? The question is, does it taste as good as it’s built up to be?”

Eleanor gently removed the bottle from Finn’s hand. “It will, I promise. Here, let me open it.”

Rob attempted to pour a bit for Amelia, but she held up her hand, refusing. “Not for me, thanks.”

Finn’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Since when do you turn down a drink? I mean, after all this, we could use it. We can get a cab home...”

Eleanor snorted lightly, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a smile. “Perfect,” she murmured, earning a quick look from Finn.

He glanced at her, then at Amelia, feeling the pieces shift. “Wait, what am I missing?”

Amelia, who had been quiet, turned to him, reaching out to take his hand in hers.

She guided it gently onto her stomach, letting him feel the subtle warmth there.

A surge of realization rippled through him, emotions tangling in a rush: confusion, disbelief, then overwhelming joy.

“You… you’re...” he whispered, voice rough.

“I’m going to be an uncle!?” Brendan said with glee.

Finn’s heart soared in the span of a heartbeat.

He was barely aware of Rob’s and Eleanor’s excited exclamations or how Brendan’s jaw dropped in astonished delight.

All he could see was Amelia’s face, softened by both vulnerability and strength.

Suddenly, the future felt vast and bright, a place where nightmares ended and new life began.

He squeezed Amelia’s hand, tears stinging his eyes as he said, “We’re going to need a bigger cottage.”