Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Oh God, it’s you again. What are you doing?” He pushed to his feet but then swayed slightly, grabbing on to the bench.
“You’re sick. I knew you were.” He hadn’t hid it well and had no business being at work at all.
“I’m fine.” Finley tried to take a step and swayed again. I reached out, held on to him, and touched his forehead.
“You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Come.”
He took a step with me…just that simply. As though obeying me was as easy as breathing, and I had to bite back a groan. Now wasn’t the time for that.
Then he stopped, defiant, and oh, if he were mine, how I would have loved to punish him.
“I said I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Is there anyone to take care of you? Your mom—”
“Dead.” His whole body tensed with a pain so sharp, I felt it.
Fighting to ignore the thoughts threatening to pull me under, I added, “Anyone else?”
“I’m a grown-ass man. I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”
My hand twitched with the need to put him in his place. “Other family? Siblings? Boyfriend?”
“Maybe I have a girlfriend,” he said, and I cocked a brow at him. A touch of pink flooded his cheeks. That’s what I thought.
“Finley…who can take care of you?”
“I…I have a roommate. He’s working tonight.” I let him go, but he was still unsteady.
“Let’s go.”
“No. I’m not going to the doctor. That shit’s expensive. I can get myself home, thank you very much.” He took a step…and went down. I was close enough to catch him before he fell.
I wrapped my arms around his small, too thin body, lifted him, and just stood there a second, unsure what to do with this precious boy.
Then I walked to my car, managed to get the door open, and set him in the passenger seat.
CHAPTER THREE
Finley
Oh God. What was wrong with me? I was pretty sure I was dying. I’d felt worse the longer the day had gone on but knew I had to go to work. I was already on thin ice because…well, because I was a shitty waiter. But I needed the money, so I went in, and with each second ticking by, I got sicker and sicker.
And now…now I was vaguely aware that I was with him, the steady motion of a car around me. How in the hell had this even happened? Out of all the people in Los Angeles, Dr. Kingsley had found and saved me twice, and now I was in a vehicle with him, fading in and out of consciousness.
He had lifted me…I remembered that. Held me. And now he was taking me who in the fuck knew where. “No hospitals…please…” I couldn’t afford that, and frankly, they reminded me of my mom, of watching her work her ass off all her life and then watching her die there too.
I shouldn’t have been going with him. I knew that. Regardless of how he’d helped me in the past, I didn’t know this man. It wasn’t safe…yet he felt safe. He felt familiar, and I was tired, so damn tired. I let myself be pulled under, lulled by the movement of the car and the scent of…the ocean twined with some kind of dark musk.
I was warm…so warm…nothing but softness around me. It felt like I was lying in the clouds…or maybe in my mom’s arms. She had been so soft. I’d loved it when she’d held me.
My eyes fluttered, and the moment they did, nausea hit me, powerful and overwhelming. I turned to the side just as it surged up my esophagus and through my lips.
There was a trash can there…someone holding it for me…a strong hand rubbing my back.
“It’s okay, boy. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
Calm washed through me, soothing. I felt it…like someone was taking care of me…then my world went black again.
The next time I woke up, I jolted to a sitting position. My head…fuck, that hurt. Oh God, I had gone home with someone I didn’t know. My first thought was Ian. How long had I been there, and did my friend know?
My body was sluggish as I tried to climb out of the clouds…no, a bed. I was in a bed.
“I don’t think so. You’re not going anywhere.” Despite my misgivings, I felt my lips pull into a smile. But then I remembered he wasn’t who I wanted him to be, that I didn’t belong to him, not really, and he wouldn’t want me. I was only there because he didn’t know what to do with me.
“I’m fine.”
“Finley.” Dr. Kingsley put his finger beneath my chin and tilted my head up. “Lie down.”
Jesus, I was doing it—that simply, I was doing what he said. I wanted to do what he said, and I didn’t want to leave.