Page 212 of Chaos

Not becauseIdidn’t want to spend time with his parents. Not at all.Wanthas nothing to do with it. It’s more like…can’t. I don’t know how. I’m unfamiliar with the concept of meeting your partners’ parents—with the concept of parents, full stop—and God knows ‘deeply uncomfortable and out of my depth’ is not my finest form. It’s to everyone’s benefit if I keep my distance, and the everyone in question must agree because no one’s waited up for me.

The house is utterly silent as I toe off my boots and shuck the thin shirt I wore over my tank to protect my shoulders from the blistering sun. Leaving the former by the front door, I drape the latter over the back of the sofa—otherwise known as my bed for the night.

I could’ve stayed at the main house, but then again, I couldn’t’ve. The thought of being that far from Finn made me itch, just like the reality of it has made me itch all day, and it’s that itch that has me creeping upstairs to check on him before I settle in for a long night of staring at the living room ceiling.

I’ve just reached the first floor when I hear a faint yell. The violent creak of a bedframe sounds next. Panic flaring, I haul assdown the hall, throwing open Finn’s bedroom door, convinced I’m going to find him collapsed on the floor, gasping and bleeding.

I don’t. Not the floor part, at least. Not bleeding either, but that doesn’t grant me any kind of comfort, not when the gasping part is true. Sitting up in bed, Finn blinks wildly, nostrils flaring as he sucks in deep, desperate lungfuls of air.

Rushing to his side, I cup his cheeks, searching him over frantically. “What happened?”

Unfocused eyes land on me and snap to attention.

A harsh exhale makes his whole body shudder. In a split second, he’s dragged me onto the bed, onto his lap, my body twisted awkwardly so our chests connect. Strong arms completely envelop me, forearms stacked at the middle of my back while his fingertips dig into either side of my ribcage. Breathing still ragged, he buries his face in the crook of my neck.

I should protest. I should get the hell off him, lift my dead weight off his injured body, but I don’t. He’s holding me so tightly, I don’t think I could if I tried. And I don’t want to either, not when it’s so clear he needs the contact.

Not when I know the aftermath of a nightmare when I see it.

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I rest my cheek on the top of his head. I’m not good at comfort, I’m not someone anyone seeks it from, but I can try. I remember that night in the attic, the night we fought and I slipped, when he cradled me and kissed my temple and murmured quiet comforts that I was too far gone to comprehend, but they soaked beneath my skin regardless.

I can do the same for him. Kiss and whisper and hold.

Eventually, it starts to work. His grip loosens and I take the chance to lean back, peering at him cautiously, my fingers brushing a clammy cheek that matches a clammy forehead, and a clammy rest of him too. “I’m gonna run you a bath, okay?”

Gazing at me listlessly, Finn nods, but he makes no move to release me.

“You’re gonna have to let me go, baby.”

A disgruntled noise rumbles in his chest. But, slowly and with obvious reluctance, he loosens his hold on me until it falls away completely, leaving me free to carefully scramble off his lap and into the bathroom.

Hot on my tail, Finn watches as I turn on the faucet of the porcelain tub I’ve been eyeing since the first time I stepped foot in here. There’s a window right beside, a wicker basket balanced on the deep sill, and as I rifle through it, I decide now is not the time to tease Finn for having four different kinds of bubble bath. I pick the emptiest one and tip it beneath the hot waterstream, the scent of lavender and ylang-ylang strong and soothing.

Leaving the tub to fill, I turn my attention to Finn—whose attention never left me. I’m not even sure he blinks as I near, as I finger the waistband of his sweats and push it down his hips. The material pools around his feet and he steps free of it, his hands moving to my waist, toying with my waistband.

Though he doesn’t hesitate to guide the button securing my jeans free, he still asks, “Joining me?”

“If you want me to.”

Finn huffs like that was a silly response before yanking my jeans down over my ass and dropping to his haunches so he can drag them the rest of the way down.

I’ve never been undressed so… innocently. So utterly unsexual. He strips me naked methodically, starting from the bottom and working his way up. His hands roam, but they’re reverent, soothing—to me or to him, I’m honestly not sure. He’s literally eye-level with my cunt, hovering mere inches away from it, baring it with swift movements, but when his lips make contact, it’s my thigh he kisses. A single, light brush that matches the one he presses to the inside of my wrist, to myhipbone, to the tattoo on the crook of my elbow, and gets even lighter when he reaches the border of peeling skin and a nasty scab.

Before the scowl that always forms whenever he catches a glimpse of my injuries, like the mere sight of them pisses him off, can make an appearance, I distract him by tugging him to the bath. Turning off the water, I test the temperature, deeming it okay and gesturing for him to get in. He does and I move to sit opposite him, but he has a different idea.

He leans forward and jerks his head to the gap behind him, so I fill it. My back to the tub, and his back to me. I squint at the surging water level nervously as he leans back and it rises dangerously close to his stitches, but I still sigh contentedly as his weight settles on me,settlesme. Making sure my own injuries stay dry, I let one arm hang over the edge of the tub, the other locking around Finn’s shoulders, mindlessly tracing the sharp line of his collarbone as we soak in silence.

At first, at least.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as my fingers skirt the edge of a clean bandage.

“Why, baby?”

“Nightmares.”

“Even if I tell you it’s not your fault, you’re still gonna feel guilty, aren’t you?”

I neither confirm nor deny, but I fear the answer is obvious.

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