by Jill Shalvis
She choked out a laugh. “I know this is a mess of my own making, I totally get that.” She closed her eyes. “And I’ve got no excuse for not finding a way over the past few weeks to tell Finn sooner.” Well, she did sort of have one—that being she was deathly afraid to lose him when she’d only just found him.
Not that Finn would take any comfort from that.
Jake sighed. “Chica, the mistake’s been made. Shit happens. Just tell him. Tell him who you are and who your parents were. Get past it. Stop hiding. You’ll feel better.”
No, she wouldn’t. Because she knew what came next.
Finn would be hurt.
She’d been so taken aback by the speed of events between the two of them, at how fast things had gotten out of her control, that she was scared. Terrified, really. Because hurting him had been the last thing she’d ever wanted. She opened her mouth to say so but at the sound of footsteps coming toward the kitchen, not hurried or rushed or trying to be stealthy, she whirled around, already knowing who she’d be facing.
Finn, of course. Still shirtless, face carefully blank, he strode to the table and picked up his forgotten keys.
Shit.
God knew how long he’d been there or how much he’d heard. It was impossible to tell by his expression since he was purposely giving nothing away.
Which really was her answer.
He’d heard everything.
“Finn,” Jake said, taking in his shirtless state with a slight brow raise.
“Jake,” Finn said, either not noticing the unspoken question from Jake or ignoring it completely.
Then they both looked at Pru, to their credit both doing so with a mix of affection and concern. With good reason, as it turned out, because she suddenly felt like she was going to be sick.
Go time, she thought.
“Pru,” Finn said quietly. Not a question really but a statement. He wanted to know what was going on.
Oh God, this was going to suck. And the worst part was she’d started all of this with the best intentions. All she’d ever wanted was to fix a wrong that had been done to him, a terrible wrong that she regretted and had carried around until she’d been able to do something about it.
And she’d righted wrongs before, successfully too. But she’d crossed the line this time and she knew it.
And now she had to face it head on.
“Trust him, chica,” Jake said from her phone. “He deserves to know and you deserve to be free of this once and for all. If he’s who you think, it’ll be okay.”
And then the rat fink bastard disconnected.
“Pru?” Finn brought up his free hand and slid his fingers along her jaw, letting them sink into her hair. His expression was wary now, but that didn’t stop him from standing in her space like they were a couple. An intimate one.
Her heart tightened. It’d been everything she’d ever wanted.
Only a few moments ago he’d been looking morning gruff and deeply satisfied. Now there was something much more to his body language and—Oh good Lord. He had a bite mark just to the side of his left nipple. She felt the heat rise up her cheeks.
“I have another on my ass,” he said, his tone not its usual amused or heated when discussing their sex life. “We’ll circle back to that. Talk to me, Pru.”
Her heart was pounding, her blood surging hard and fast through her veins, panic making her limbs weak. She looked at her phone but Jake was long gone and in the reflection of the screen she could see herself.
She hadn’t gotten away from last night unscathed either. There was a visible whisker burn on her throat and she knew she had a matching mark on her breasts.
And between her thighs.
Finn had brought her pleasure such as she’d never known, both in bed and out.
And now it was over . . . “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ve kept something from you.”
“What?” There was some wariness to his tone now, though he still spoke quietly. Willing to hear whatever she had to say.
She immediately felt her blood pressure shoot through the stratosphere.
“Just tell me, Pru.”
Well, if he was going to be all calm and logical about this . . . She inhaled a deep breath. “It’s about my parents. And their accident.”
His eyes softened with sympathy, which she didn’t deserve. “You never say much about how it happened,” he said. “I haven’t wanted to push. You don’t push me on my dad’s shit and I appreciate that, so—”
“It was a car wreck.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “They . . . caused other injuries.” She paused. “Life-altering injuries.”
His eyes never left hers. “And?”
“And I . . . got involved.”
“You’ve been . . . helping them?”
“Yes, but only in the smallest of ways compared to the damage my parents caused.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “That’s got to be painful for you.”
“No, actually, it’s healing.”
He looked skeptical.
“I had to,” she said softly. “Finn, my parents are the ones in the car who killed your dad.”
His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? The man driving the car that hit him was some guy by the name of Steven Dalman.”
“My dad,” she said quietly. “My mom never took his last name. Her family was against the match every bit as much as his. She gave me her name, not his . . .” She trailed off when Finn abruptly turned from her.
He shoved his fingers into his hair and didn’t say a word. She wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Off the sleek, leanly muscled lines of his bare back. The inch of paler skin low on his waist where his jeans had slipped.
The tension now in every line of his body.
She tried to explain. “I just wanted . . .”
Finn whipped back around. “Want what? To satiate your curiosity? See if Sean and I were as devastated as you? What exactly did you want, Pru?”
“To make it better,” she said, throat tight. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, was to make it better. For both of you, for everyone who my dad . . .” She covered her mouth.
Destroyed.
“I see,” he said quietly. “So that’s what I was to you, another pet project like the others you collected and fixed their broken lives.”
“No, I—”
“Truth, Pru,” he said, voice vibrating with fury. “You owe me that.”
“Okay, yes, I needed to help everyone however I could. I needed to make things right,” she reiterated, swallowing a sob when he shook his head. She was losing him. “So I did what I could.”
“I didn’t need saving,” he bit out. “Sean and I had each other and we were fine—” He stilled and his eyes cut to hers, sharp as a blade. “It was you. You got us that money that was supposedly from a community fundraiser. Jesus, how did I not guess this before?” His gaze narrowed. “Where did that money come from? Is that why you sold your childhood home? To give it to us?”
“No, the money from the house went to the others. For you and Sean, I used my parents’ life insurance policy.”
He stared at her. “Fuck,” he said roughly and turned to go.
She managed to slide between him and the door. “Finn, please—”
“Please what?” he asked coldly. “Understand how you very purposely and calculatedly came into my life? Moved into this building? Sat in my pub? Became my friend and then my lover? All under the pretense of wanting me, while really you were just trying to assuage some misguided sense of guilt.” He stopped and closed his eyes for a beat. “Jesus, Pru. I never even saw you coming.”
Having her crimes against him listed out loud made her feel sick to her soul. “It wasn’t like that,” she said.
“No? You sought me out, decided I needed fixing, slept with me, probably had a good laugh over me telling you how much you meant to me . . . all without telling me why you were really here—to ease y
our damn conscience.” He shook his head. “Hope you got everything in that you wanted because we’re done here.”
“No, Finn. I—”
“Done,” he repeated with a terrifying finality. “I don’t want to see you again, Pru.”
And then he walked out, breaking the heart she hadn’t even realized she had inside her to break.
Chapter 31
#MissedItByThatMuch
Weighted down by so many emotions that she couldn’t name them all, Pru called in sick, letting Jake think she’d gotten her period and had debilitating cramps.
Since she’d never used such an excuse before, had in fact never missed work at all, she didn’t feel in the least bit sorry.
Her ovaries had to be good for something, right?
She marathoned Game of Thrones and never left the couch. Every time her mind wandered to Finn, her heart did a slow somersault in her chest, her lungs stopped working, and her stomach hurt, so she did what anyone would do in the throes of a bad breakup.
She ate.
The next morning she was jerked out of her stupor when someone knocked on her door. She blinked and looked around. She was still dressed, still on her couch, surrounded by empty wrappings of candy bars and other varieties of junk food—the evidence of a pity party for one. She grabbed her phone but there were no missed calls, texts, or emails from Finn.
And why would there be? He’d been pretty clear.
He didn’t want to see her again.
The knock came again, less patient now. She got to her feet and looked out the peephole.
Willa, Elle, and Haley.
Elle was front and center, her eyes on the peephole.
“I’m not feeling very sociable,” Pru said. “In fact, I’m feeling pretty damn negative and toxic so—”
“Okay, listen, honey,” Elle said. “Life sucks sometimes. The trick is not letting negative and toxic feelings rent space in your head. Raise the rent and kick them the hell out. And I’ve brought help in that regard.” She lifted a bag.
Tina’s muffins.
Pru opened the door.
Elle handed her the bag.
Haley handed over a very large coffee.
Willa smiled. “My job is to be supportive and get you to talk.”
“Way to be subtle,” Elle said.
Ignoring that, Willa hugged Pru. “Okay, so I missed the subtle gene,” she said. “But you should know, we are unbelievably supportive.”
“Even if I screwed up?”
“Even if,” Willa said.
“I’m not going to talk about it,” Pru warned, barely able to talk past the lump in her throat. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”
Seemingly unconcerned by this, they all moved into Pru’s apartment and eyed the scene of the crime.
Willa picked up an empty bag of maple bacon potato chips. “They make bacon chips?” She looked into the empty bag sadly. “Damn, I bet they were amazing.”
“How did you know something was wrong?” Pru asked with what she thought was a calm voice.
“Because you missed Eighties Karaoke and didn’t answer any of our calls last night,” Elle said. “And you’d told me you wouldn’t miss it unless Chris Evans came knocking at your door.” She looked Pru over, her rumpled sweats and what was undoubtedly a bad case of bedhead hair. “And I think it’s safe to say that didn’t happen.”
“It could have,” Pru muttered and set the coffee down to dive into the bag of muffins. She started with a chocolate chocolate-chip.
Haley reached to put her hand in the bag and Pru clutched it to her chest with a growl that rivaled Thor’s.
Haley lifted her hands. “Okay, not sharing. Got it.” She turned to Elle and Willa. “I think we’ve verified the breakup rumor.”
Pru froze. “There’s a breakup rumor?”
Willa lifted her hand, her first finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Little bit.”
Pru sank to the couch, still clutching her muffins. “I’d like to be alone now.”
“Sure,” Elle said. “We understand.” And then she sat on one end of the couch and picked up the remote to turn the volume up. “Season three, right? Love this show.”
Eyes on the screen, already enraptured, Haley sat on the other end.
Pru opened her mouth to complain but Willa took the floor, leaning back on the couch, leaving a spot right in the middle for Pru.
She blew out a breath and in the respectful silence that she appreciated more than she could say, she wasn’t alone at all.
Two days later Pru walked to work. In the rain. She knew she was bad off when Thor didn’t complain once. He did however, keep looking up at her, wondering what their mood should be.
Devastated. That was the current mood. But she didn’t want to scare him. “We’re going to be okay.”
Thor cocked his head, his one stand-up ear quivering a little bit.
He didn’t believe her.
And for good reason. She hadn’t slept. She’d called in sick again and Jake had let her get away with that.
Until this morning. He’d called her at the crack of dawn and said, “I don’t care if your uterus is falling out of your body, take some Midol and get your ass into work. Today.”
She wasn’t surprised. And to be honest, she was ready to get back to it after a two-day pity party involving more ice cream than she’d eaten in her twenty-six years total. She’d run out of self-pity stamina. Turned out it was hard to maintain that level of despair.
So with it now at a dull roar, she’d showered and dressed and headed to work. “I just feel . . . stupid,” she told Thor. “This is all my fault, you know.”
“Honey,” a woman said, passing her on the sidewalk. “Never admit that it’s all your fault.” She was wearing the smallest, tightest red dress Pru had ever seen, and the five-inch stilettos were impressive.
“But this time it really is,” Pru told her.
“No, you’re misunderstanding me. Never admit it’s your fault, especially when it is.”
The woman walked on but Thor stopped and put his front paws on Pru’s leg.
She picked him up and he licked her chin.
Her throat tightened. “You love me anyway.” She hugged him, apparently squeezing too tight because he suffered it for about two seconds and then growled.
With a half laugh and half sob, she loosened her grip. When she got to work, she walked straight through the warehouse to the offices. She passed those by too and headed back to the area where Jake lived.
He was lifting weights, the music blaring so loud the windows rattled. She turned off the music and turned to face him.
“You okay?” he asked, dropping the weights, turning his chair to face her, his face creased in worry.
She’d planned what she would say to him. Something like I know, you told me so, blah blah blah, so let’s not talk about it, let’s just move on. And she opened her mouth to say just that but nothing came out.
“What’s going on?”
She burst into tears.
Looking pained, he stared at her. “Did you forget the Midol? Because I bought some, it’s in my bathroom. I’ve had it for over a year, I’ve just never figured out how to give it to you without getting my head bit clean off.”
She threw her purse at him. “I didn’t get my damn period!”
“Oh shit,” he said, blanching. “Oh fuck. Okay, first I’ll kill him and then—”
“No!” She actually laughed through her tears. “I’m not pregnant.”
He let out a long breath. “Well, Jesus, lead with that next time.”
Pru shook her head and turned to go, but he was faster than her even in his chair. He got in front of her and blocked the door.
“Talk to me, chica,” he said.
“You done being a stupid guy?”
“I’ll try to be.” He said this quite earnestly, his gaze on hers. “You did tell him then.”
She nodded.
“And . . . it went to hell?” he guessed.<
br />
“In a hand basket,” she agreed.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. I was a dumbass. I should have told him from the get-go like you said a million times.”
Jake let out a rare sigh. “Look, chica, yeah, you made a mistake. But everything you did was for the right reasons. You should feel good about that. You set out to help everyone from the accident and now you can say you did that. In a big way. In a much bigger way than anyone else I know would have.”
She thought about it and realized she did feel good about that part. “So it’s mission accomplished,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” He smiled. “Proud of you.”
The words were a balm on her broken heart. The ache didn’t go away and she wasn’t sure if it ever would. Loss was loss, and Finn no longer being in her life was a hard pill to swallow. But she’d survived worse and she’d come back from rock bottom.
She could do it again.
Well . . . next time maybe tell him who she was before sexy times and getting hearts involved . . .
The first two days were a complete blur to Finn. On day three, he stood in his shower contemplating the level of suckage his life had become until the hot water ran out. He stood there as it turned cold and then icy, completely forgetting that they were on a water watch and he’d pay a penalty if he went over his allowed usage for the month.
He was sitting on his couch staring at the still-off TV when Sean called. “I’m taking tonight off,” Finn said.
“Oh, hell no you’re not,” Sean said. “Three fucking nights in a row? I can’t do this by myself, Finn. This is a damn partnership and you need to start acting like it.”
Finn dropped his head, closed his eyes, and fought the laugh. “Are you throwing my words back in my face?”
“Hell yes.” Sean paused. “Is it working?”
“I think you owe me more than a few nights.”
Sean blew out a breath. “Yeah.” He paused again, this one a beat longer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Sean said. “You take time off never. Let me guess. You’re . . . running away from home? No, it’s worse than that. Shit. Just tell me quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. You’re dying?”