It couldn’t just be that we lived together, surely? That sounded ridiculous when I said it out loud. If that was the case maybe I needed to bloody well move out.
I didn’t want to though.
I loved living with Finn, loved coming home to him every night. And if we weren’t seeing each other so much, maybe he’d realise that, actually, it wasn’t what he wanted.
And maybe that was just tiredness and two large glasses of red wine messing with my head. What I needed was a coffee.
And then to talk to Finn.
The car came to a stop and I was startled to see we were already home. Christ, what world had I been in?
“Oh, you are awake, then.” Finn turned the engine off and glanced over. “You were so quiet I thought you’d fallen asleep. Wasn’t looking forward to carrying you inside after everything you just ate.”
I huffed out a laugh despite my inner turmoil. “Hey, you calling me fat?”
“Nope.” He grinned, and just like that the old Finn was back. “Just full.”
I needed to clear my head then sit us both down and have a long fucking talk.
“Well, luckily for you and your weak T-Rex arms, I can walk myself to the door.”
He gasped in outrage. “I do not have T-Rex arms. You take that back.”
“No way.” I laughed as I opened the car door, shuddered at the cold, and then marched with purpose towards the house.
I needed that coffee right the fuck now.
Finn got out and locked his door. “That path might be icy, be careful you don’t—”
That was as far as he got before I lost my footing in those stupid shoes and went arse over tit, landing heavily on my right wrist.
Ow.
Motherfucking bastard, ow.
I lay there, pain blossoming up my arm, and I had the sinking feeling that it was more than a bad sprain. Yay me.
“Fuck!” I heard Finn race up the path towards me, as sure-footed as a fucking gazelle.
Of course.
He knelt beside me because I hadn’t moved from my heap on the ground. “You okay?”
With a groan, I managed to push myself up with my left hand. I cradled my right arm to my chest. “Erm... I don’t think so. No.”
“Those fucking shoes,” he hissed, and I glared up at him.
“Is this really the time for an ‘I told you so’, Finn?”
He immediately looked contrite. “Sorry.” His gaze dropped to my wrist and he stared at it as though he could fix it with the power of his eyes alone. Then he blew out a breath. “I think we need to get you to A&E.”
As much as I wanted to disagree, he was right. This wouldn’t be fixed by a hot chocolate and a nice warm bath. Not if the throbbing pain was anything to go by. “Yeah.”
“Can you stand?” he asked, pushing himself to his feet.
“It’s my arm, not my bloody legs,” I snapped, then quickly held up my good hand. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” I sighed, then looked up at him with a grimace. “It’s just a little painful.”
He said nothing, but held a hand out to me and ever so carefully helped me to my feet. When I was upright, he cupped my jaw and stroked his thumb along my cheek.
