Page 43 of Finn's Future

Kate

The grey light of early morning spilled through the blinds, warming the room slowly.

Noah’s gentle snores pulled me from sleep and when I lifted my head, the sight stopped me cold.

Finn was on the floor again.

Just like before, one arm crooked beneath his head, the other reaching through the cot bars while Noah’s tiny fist stayed wrapped around his finger. His head tilted towards the cot, eyes closed, chest rising and falling steadily. Something soft tugged in my chest.

I slipped from the bed and padded into the bathroom. When I came back out, Finn was awake, blue eyes following me through the dim light.

He didn’t move his hand from the cot or break Noah’s grip.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“How?” I gestured towards the floor.

“Heard him fussing during the night.” A small shrug lifted one shoulder. “Figured you could use the sleep.”

I leaned against the doorway, folding my arms lightly across my chest. I hadn’t even heard Noah.

“That floor can’t be comfortable.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

I looked at him for another second before climbing back into bed and pulling the covers aside.

“Not good enough,” I said firmly.

Finn blinked at me.

I nodded towards the empty space beside me. “Get in the bed.”

His brows lifted. “Kate?—”

“I’m serious.” My pulse hammered painfully hard despite how calm I tried to sound. “You end up on the floor half the time because of us. It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” I pointed towards the mattress again. “Get in the damn bed before you throw your back out trying to play human guard dog.”

A reluctant huff of laughter left him, then he pushed slowly to his feet. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders before he grabbed the hem and tugged it over his head in one smooth motion.

My mouth went dry.

Broad shoulders. Hard muscle. Faded scars scattered across his ribs and shoulder like proof of every fight he’d survived.

Heat rushed through me so fast, it almost hurt.

Finn caught me staring.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly before he looked away and moved towards the bed carefully, like he still expected me to change my mind.

But I didn’t want distance from him anymore. That was the problem.

“There’s room,” I whispered, scooting back slightly beneath the blankets.

Finn slid in beside me stiffly, keeping as much space between us as the mattress allowed.