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Fynn wraps his arms around me, holding me to his chest.
I breathe him in, his beautifully spicy, musky scent.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” he murmurs, as the floodgates open, and I sob into his chest harder. It all comes out like a burst dam.
He turns and says something to Angelo in Italian. Then he turns back to me, speaking in a gentle tone. “I need to get you upstairs, honey, you got me?”
I nod into his chest as he wraps the blanket around me. He lifts me into his arms.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I hear Angelo mutter.
“My bags… they’re in the bedroom,” I tell him.
Now I remember what started this whole argument. I told him I was going to my parents’ for a few days, to think about things after the fight we had a few days ago.
“I can get you new stuff,” Fynn replies.
I sag into his hold as he stands, unable to argue.
Angelo says something about going to the hospital.
My eyes spring open. “No, no hospital,” I stammer. “Please, Fynn… Angelo… I can’t.”
“Sage, you have to be seen properly,” he tells me gravely. “We have no choice. Your injuries…”
I’ve been volunteering in palliative care at Massachusetts General, so I can put myself forward for an internship when I graduate. I’m only two years into pre-med, so I have long years ahead of me, and while this is a big hospital and nobody really knows me, I don’t want this on my record. I have to think of the future.
“Not Massachusetts General,” I stutter. “Anywhere but there.”
“Brigham then.” He grits his teeth, and I can feel the impatience and worry radiating off him. “I don’t know why this is an issue, Sage. You’re hurt.”
As he carries me up the stairs, every single jolt of his body against mine causes me pain.
It’s then he notices my bare legs, and that I have just a t-shirt on and my underwear.
He pulls the blanket aside as I try to cover myself.
“Fynn, don’t,” my voice trembles.
“Sage… you’re freezing.”
I look up at him in the fading light. I don’t want to protect Cam whatsoever, but I know Fynn will go ape shit on him if he knows how far this went.
I can’t tell him everything. I won’t.
I can’t speak. No words will come out anyway.
Cam is a monster, that’s all I know.
“Please let me get my bags,” I plead. “I need pants, at least.”
His eyes flick to Angelo’s, and he speaks in Italian again, then a few moments later, Angelo disappears.
If somebody had told me today that Angelo Medici would be my bellhop, readily fetching things at my will, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Things are that bad.
Fynn stays with me as I cling to him. All the while, he kisses the top of my head and tells me I’m his good girl and that he’ll fix this.
