If he knew she was lying—and she suspected he did—she was grateful that he didn’t call her out on it. Especially since he’d been so open. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We all get that, I guess. I hope you’re able to work out what you need to up here. I think I’ll head down to the gym if you’re sure you don’t need it.”
She shot him a smile, relieved that he’d dropped the subject and was now leaving. “Yeah. I’ll try harder tomorrow,” she said.
Something flashed across his blue eyes, and his face softened. “It’s okay to not be a superstar every day,” he said, his voice gentle and without judgment as he crossed the room.
She didn’t respond as he left because she didn’t know what to say. No one had ever told her that. Do better, try harder had been her life motto. With one sentence, he made her feel like it was okay to not always be the best.
She just wished that could be enough.
Chapter Three
Melody sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding, her brain still foggy with sleep. Something had woken her up. A bad dream? She had no memory of any kind of dream. She sat still and listened. Just as she was about to lay back down, she heard something akin to a moan or a cry.
Finn.
Her heart pounding, she scrambled out of bed. It was just after midnight. She crossed the room, opened her door, and stopped at the threshold to the hallway. All the lights were off in the house, and it was silent again. Maybe she’d been hearing things. Maybe she should just go back to bed. Finn was fine. Maybe he was working out or something. But after glancing in the direction of the darkened basement, she knew that wasn’t the case.
This wasn’t any of her business, and they barely knew each other. Part of sharing a house meant giving each other privacy. So, she should just turn around, shut her door, and crawl back into her nice, warm bed.
A low, deep moan, resonated through the hallway again, and she knew she couldn’t just ignore it and sleep peacefully. She hurried down the hall to Finn’s room. The door was closed, and now it was quiet again. She couldn’t just barge in there. But it had sounded like a painful moan. She placed her hand on the doorknob and waited for that sound again. But moments passed with only the sound of her heart beating like she was about to commit a crime.
It would be an invasion of privacy. Go back to bed. She turned around to do just that when a dreadful groan froze everything inside her and made her forget any reservations she had about walking into his room. She did knock, though. And wait. She tried to psyche herself up to walk in but felt like she’d be crossing into personal territory. But what if he was really hurt? Or what if he had the flu and his leg was preventing him from getting out of bed? Just go in there. You’re a doctor—he might need your help.
Then Finn made some kind of noise that sent a shiver down her spine, and she opened the door, poking her head through. The room was dark, and only a faint ribbon of moonlight glowed through the window. She could make Finn’s form out. He was lying in bed, on his back, his eyes shut. So maybe he was sick. “Finn?” she whispered, though her voice sounded loud to her ears in the quiet room.
No reply. Her heart pounding painfully in her chest, she slowly tiptoed across the room to get a better look. When she reached his side, she noticed the beads of sweat on the side of his face and forehead. His hand was clenched, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He made that awful moaning sound again, his legs kicking off the sheet. Her mouth went dry as he laid there with nothing but boxers on. But that jolt of awareness disappeared when she noticed the visible scars from the skin graft surgeries he’d underwent. Her heart squeezed and her throat closed up. He’d been so close to death. He’d been through so much, and he was alone, hiding here from everyone as he tried to heal.
“Finn,” she said, though he didn’t show any signs of hearing her. She could put a hand on his forehead, as a doctor, of course, just to see how hot he was. She wasn’t even going to entertain the pun in her mind. Reaching out, she lightly placed a hand on his forehead, and he bolted upright with a blood-curdling roar. She screamed and jumped back, losing her balance and falling on her butt on the floor.
Finn put his head in his hands, his breath coming out in audible gasps.
She scrambled up. “I’m so sorry, Finn. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, standing beside the bed now, feeling stupid. Clearly, he wasn’t ill because he was sitting upright. But he did look disoriented. Or sad. And if he’d been anyone else, she’d say he looked like he needed a hug. Obviously, she wouldn’t. That would be…awkward. She wasn’t sure she knew how to really give that kind of comfort to anyone. She’d probably be stiff, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t welcome that kind of affection. Way too awkward. They were friends. In-laws.
“What the hell?” He ran his hands through his hair and frowned at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly self-conscious about the pajama T-shirt she was wearing without a bra. “I’m sorry. You were making all this noise, and it woke me up. You were…you didn’t look well. I just touched your forehead to check your temperature. I thought you had the flu. And come to think of it, you should probably be thanking me, not frowning at me, because you’re the one who woke me up and scared the crap out of me. I even fell on my butt.” She backed up a step, wondering at what point in her life she’d developed the habit of talking too much when she was nervous.
He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t look like the Finn she knew, and the room felt small and stifling and way too personal for her comfort level. He also wasn’t trying to apologize. The silence was intolerable. She made her way to the door, desperate to get out of there, to give him his privacy. He must be dying for her to leave. Who wanted to be caught in the middle of a complete loss of control? She wouldn’t.
She heard a muffled curse and had almost reached the hallway when he called her. His voice was hoarse and raw, and something tugged at her heartstrings as she turned around.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, Melody. I’m not mad at you. Thank you for checking in on me. Do you, uh, want a drink?”
She slowly turned around. That moment, with Finn, sitting on the edge of the bed, his forearms on his thighs, his gaze on hers, she realized not only was he fighting his own demons, his own nightmares—he was doing it all alone. And that was uncomfortably familiar. He was trying to recover from trauma on the job, and in her own way, so was she. But he wasn’t shutting her out like she shut out, well, everyone.
Even if he was uncomfortable, he wasn’t turning away contact. He wasn’t pushing her away; he was actually inviting her into his world. Her heart raced at the intimacy of the moment, of seeing him vulnerable and having him reach for company instead of solitude.
That’s where they were very different.
Drinks would mean more sharing, more intimacy. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. They were just supposed to be sharing a cabin for the holidays, not becoming…friends. Would they still be friends back in Shadow Creek? If they ever made it back to Shadow Creek. Then there was the whole prom date memory that always lingered in the back of her mind. It was something that reminded her of how insecure she used to be, how easily she had been able to toss her pride aside in order to make her mother happy. Finn had been there to witness all of it. But if she really thought about that moment, about that girl she was, she’d remember the sting of his rejection. She’d laid in bed that night, wondering if she’d been prettier like Molly, or thinner like Molly, or had perfect skin like Molly—all of the things their mother liked to point out—if he’d have said yes. None of that stuff mattered to her anymore, and she’d stopped that kind of superficial thinking, but that girl hid out sometimes, way down deep, wondering what he thought of her now.