“Finn.”
I looked over at her, butt-assed naked. “Yeah?”
“You’re naked.”
“I know.” I looked down at myself. “You said to lose the towel. You also said you didn’t want to see me half naked anymore, so here you go.”
She set down her empty cup on the nightstand with a trembling hand, but her lips quirked as if a smile was trying to escape, but she didn’t want to let it. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her smile lighting up my life until now. “When I said ‘lose the towel,’ I meant put on some clothes. And by not wanting to see you half naked, I meant clothed.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “I guess I could get dressed.”
I crossed the room wearing my birthday suit, then opened my top drawer. She let out a strangled groan, but I heard her lay back down. Did she face the other way so she wouldn’t have to see me anymore? Or was she watching? I dared a glance over my shoulder and quickly turned back around.
Oh, she was watching, all right.
I slowly stepped into a pair of boxers and pulled out a pair of khaki shorts. After I slid those on, I turned to face her. My stomach was a little bit steadier now. “Better?”
She cleared her throat. “Shirt?”
“Nah. I never wear one at home. You know that.” I sat down beside her, reaching out to feel her forehead. It was blazing hot. “Shit, you have a fever.”
She blinked at me. “Yeah, I’ve had one all day. Woke up with one.”
“And you went to school why?”
She laid back down, cuddling into my bed as if she belonged there. And she did. She really fucking did. “I can’t afford to miss classes right now.”
“You can’t afford to neglect your health either.”
She rolled her eyes. Even sick and wasted, she had enough energy to give me sass and attitude. I loved it. Hell, I loved her, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise to me. Not after all the moping I’d been doing ever since I lost her.
“My mom is all the way across the country and I’m single. Who am I supposed to get to take care of me?” she asked.
She didn’t have to be single if she would give me another chance, but I didn’t point that out. “Me.”
“I can’t call you for help anymore.” She stared up at me. “We’re not even really friends.”
My heart wrenched, but I refused to show her how much it hurt for me to follow her rules. I pushed off the bed, heading into the kitchen. “I’ll go make you some chicken broth.”
“I’m not hungry.” She rolled over and curled her knees into the fetal position. “Not even in the slightest.”
I didn’t stop walking. “You need something in your stomach, or it’ll just hurt more when you puke.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she called out, her voice shaking. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Yeah, I do. And no, you won’t.”
Because if I didn’t take care of her…
Who would?
I leaned back in the couch, holding the bowl in the crook of my lap. As I sipped down the chicken broth, I felt immensely better before it even hit my stomach. But even if it hadn’t made me feel better, it was quite easily the most delicious soup I’d ever had. It didn’t even have anything in it. Finn sat beside me on the couch, eating his own plain broth. He still hadn’t put on a shirt, and I still hadn’t stopped thinking about touching him again, even though I felt like I was on death’s door.
I wouldn’t follow through with my thoughts, but it didn’t stop me from wanting.
He had a way of touching me that made me forget all about the outside world. All about how much he’d betrayed me, and how much I was supposed to hate him. I shouldn’t be here, eating his soup and using his bed. I shouldn’t be near him at all.
I still cared about him too much.
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I set down my bowl. “That was really good. Thanks.”
He finished his own bowl then set it next to mine. “It was my mom’s recipe. My dad gave it to me when I was old enough to cook it myself. It always made me feel better when I was sick, so it seemed appropriate.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, oddly moved that he’d made me the same soup his mother made him. I wanted to hug him. To take away the brief shadows of grief I saw before he looked away.
He tugged at his brown hair. “Don’t mention it. How about we get you back in bed now?”
I swallowed hard. Even the thought of crawling back into his bed sent shivers down my spine. The things we had done there… “I should go back to my dorm.”
“Why bother? You won’t get any sleep there with Marie. She has company.” He pinned me down with his stare, his bright blue eyes on me. “I promise I won’t touch you. You’ll be perfectly safe here.”
He didn’t need to touch me to make me want him. That was the scary part. “Still.”
“No.” He stood, his jaw ticking. “I tried this the nice way, but I’ll put it simply: You’re not leaving. End of story.”
Okay, that took away any lingering desire to kiss him. Then again, his arrogance usually did. “You don’t own me. You’re not my dad, and—”
“No, but I work for him, as you’ve reminded me every chance you get.” He picked up his phone and waved it in front of my eyes. “And I’m not afraid to call him and get him down here. I’ll tell him you’re refusing medical treatment from the hospital.”
I drew in a deep breath. “You wouldn’t.”
He raised a brow and started typing. I stood up and tried to snatch it out of his hands. My stomach protested the fast movement with a loud gurgle. “Stop it. Don’t you dare call him.”
“Then get in the fucking bed.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I can tell you’re making yourself even sicker by arguing with me. Just lay down.”
“I’m fine.” My stomach twisted again, and I clutched it tight. Oh God, I was going to…
“Yeah. Sure you are,” he drawled. He picked me up, and I closed my eyes as the room spun. I should point out I could walk on my own, but I didn’t want to open my mouth right now. “Bathroom or bed?”
“Bathroom,” I gasped, the vomit trying to escape even with the single word. “And leave me alone this time. I don’t want you to see—” I broke off and covered my mouth.
He made it to the toilet in record time. “Not leaving.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the torrential vomiting pouring out of my system swallowed up the words. By the time I was finished, I felt more like the stuff floating in the toilet than a person. I hadn’t even realized Finn held my hair until he released it, heading for the washcloths again.
Why was he being so…nice? So darn courteous and thoughtful and perfect? He needed to open his mouth and say something annoying really quickly before I fell for him all over again. He returned with a wet washcloth. He looked sweaty and a little pale himself. What was wrong with him?
“Here,” he murmured, wiping my face down as he did last time.
I closed my eyes, tears threatening to escape me at his tender touch. “Why are you being so nice to me? And why are you shaking?”
“Because I care, even if it hurts.” He tossed the washcloth aside and rose to his feet. “Do you want to shower?”
“Yes.” I opened my eyes. He was leaning against the sink clutching his stomach. As soon as he saw I watched him, he straightened and headed for the faucet. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said dismissively. “Just worry about yourself.”
I frowned. “Are you sick too?”
“No.” The shower turned on, and he stuck his hand under the stream of water. Seemingly satisfied with the temperature, he went back to the sink and pulled out a light blue toothbrush. He opened the case and set it down on the sink. “Here. Use this.”
I stood up and he grabbed my elbow. As if he was ready to catch me if I fell. But that was his job, wasn’t it? I couldn’t read anything more into it than that. “I don’t have any clothes to change into.”