Page 143 of Chaos

Hot liquid dampens the skin beneath my eyes. I wipe it away roughly, as frustrated as I am upset. And I am so, so upset. I wish it was anger constricting my chest. I can deal with anger, I can handle it, I know what to do with it, butthis, I don’t.

I don’t know how to be sad. And as much as I know I don’t deserve to feel better, I want to. I want comfort.

I want it from one person in particular, and to him is exactly where I go.

It takes three rounds of knocking before Finn opens his bedroom door. At first, I think I woke him up. I see a bare chest and tired eyes, and I think he was asleep—that’s why it took him so long to answer. And then I smile, I mumble a greeting, and I realize I was wrong.

Because Finn doesn’t smile back. He doesn’t say anything. He… he looks at me for a handful of seconds. An unreadable gaze scans me quickly and briefly flashes with relief before hardening,darkening. He nods quickly, jerkily, like he’s assuring himself of something.

And then he closes the door in my face.

Lips parting with a surprised exhale, I stare at the solid slab of wood. A little damn stupefied, I raise my fist to knock again, catching myself at the last minute and going for the doorknob instead. When it twists easily, I feel relief—if he really wanted me out, he’d lock it, right?

Even though doubt slows my steps, even though something painful stabs at my chest, I laugh as I shoulder my way into the room. “Really, cowboy? That was a little dramatic.”

Halfway back to bed, Finn pauses. That strong, naked back rippling, he tilts his head towards the ceiling, as if asking whatever higher power he believes in for strength.

Without turning around, he rasps, “Get out.”

I sway on my platformed feet, knocked off balance by his tone. His harsh, tough tone that makes the rock-like lump in my stomach throb and grow. I set a hand over my navel, like my cold, clammy palm might soothe it.

“You’re mad at me,” I say, and there’s no snarky response—just a very honest hum. “Okay. Then I’m sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Because I left. Because I snapped at him. But, “You said you liked me mean.”

“Mean,” Finn agrees dryly. “Not cruel.”

I flinch.

“And that’s not even it.” He shakes his head, finally daring to face me, but his gaze still evades mine. It fixes on a spot on the wall at my back, on the floorboards at my feet, on the hand on my belly, everywhere butme. “You’ve been gone for hours, Lottie. You didn’t take your phone. No one knew where you were, if you were okay. I know I’m not yourboyfriend,” he spitsthe word out like a bullet. “But I was worried. We all were. Lux almost started calling hospitals, for fuck’s sake.”

Guilt wraps around my neck like a noose.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, stepping forward and reaching for him on instinct, taking the way he dodges me like an uppercut to the chin. “I just lost track of time. I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

I flinch again, shoved a step backwards by the accusation—by thetruth.

“You’redrunk,” he repeats and if I could form the word, I would tell him tostop. “I was losing my fucking mind, Charlotte, and you were… partying? With yournot friends?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper, and at least that’s the truth. At least about that, I can be honest, more honest than I am when I add, “I didn’t want to.”

He sniffs like he can smell the fucking lie.

“I didn’t want to go with them.”Truth. “I didn’t want to stay.”Truth. “I didn’t want him to ki—”

I snap my liquor-loosened lips shut, but it’s too late.

Finn puts the pieces together, he figures out that final truth all on his own, and he goes frighteningly still. “He kissed you?”

I nod slowly, wishing I didn’t have to. Wishing I’d had more of my wits about myself so I could’ve beaten Ricky off with a goddamn stick. God, that’s probably why he was so insistent on getting me drunk. It was more than just a power play, than proving a point, than knocking me down a peg. He wanted me nice and pliable andstupid.

I laugh under my breath.

“So glad you find this funny.”

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