* * *
The clock reads 11:20 p.m. when I step out of Finn’s shower.
I’ve been home alone since the boys left this morning, and I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to shower in the biggest, nicest shower in the house. Who cares that said shower is connected to Finn’s bedroom?
In a hurry, I dry my body and hair with a towel, then throw on a pair of silk shorts and a loose T-shirt. I’m about to head out of the bathroom when I spot the black onyx bracelet I spent hours making on the bathroom counter.
I’ve been carrying it around since I finished it earlier.
I wasn’t too sure what to do with it at first. I could hardly see myself wearing it knowing none of the materials were mine. Then I realized it only made sense for Finn to have it.
He’s the one who lost his mom.
Maybe this way, he can carry a piece of her with him?
I’m not even sure why I made that bracelet.
I went into Nora Richards’s office with the intention of hurting Finn and walked out with this overwhelming sadness for him. Plus, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched for me to give him a gift considering my new “kill them with kindness” mantra.
I slide the bracelet over my wrist to remind myself to give it to Finn the next time I see him and start to turn arou—
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I shriek in surprise, dropping the wet towel in my hand on the bathroom tiles. A grumpy Finn stands in the doorway to the bathroom, his hard stare filled with daggers and poison-laced bullets.
“I…” The words won’t cooperate.
“You what?” he says dryly.
Get a grip.
“What’s it look like, smart-ass? I was showering,” I fire back. Familiar with our bickering, Finn cocks an eyebrow at me and flashes a small here we go again grin.
“I know what you were doing, Gem. What I want to know is why.”
Gem…
I wish he’d stop calling me that.
Sometimes, like right now, it sounds nice.
Affectionate, even. Like it could be “our thing” instead of what it truly is. A reminder that he couldn’t be bothered to remember my name.
I stick my hands up. “You’ve got the best shower in the house. Sue me.”
Bracing his shoulder against the doorway, Finn gives me a once-over, and my arms erupt in goose bumps. I assume he’s looking for the perfect insult to throw in my face until he shrugs.
“Whatever.”
Whatever?
I don’t let myself overthink it and squeeze past his broad frame to exit the bathroom. I’ve barely taken two steps before I remember that I left the towel on the ground and swivel around.
Finn seems to have had the same reflex because we both reach for the towel at the same time, our fingers touching for a split second. My pulse quickening, I withdraw my hand, taking the used towel with me and blinking up at him.
He’s staring at me, too.
Hard.