Chapter Nine
The steady beep pierced through the darkness, dragging Finn slowly toward consciousness. He felt as though he were swimming up from deep water, each sound pulling him closer to the surface. The rhythm was sharp and mechanical, too precise to belong to the mountain and too steady to be the wind.
His head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache. The air felt different, warmer somehow, and it carried a sterile scent instead of the crisp bite of snow. He tried to open his eyes, but light stabbed at him instantly, forcing them shut again. Another beep followed with a steady pulse.
The sound refused to fade.
Where am I?
Finn’s memory came back in fragments. White, falling, his world spinning out of control, and then nothing.
He swallowed, his throat raw and burning.
When he shifted slightly, something tugged at his hand.
A faint pull in his chest felt tight and restricted, with each breath coming out shallow and measured.
None of it felt like snow or being in the mountains, especially since he was warm and he no longer felt that he was going to die.
Finn forced his eyes open again, slower this time, letting them adjust bit by bit. The ceiling above him was smooth and pale, lined with fluorescent panels. He turned his head carefully and immediately regretted it when dizziness washed over him.
I'm in the hospital. How did I get down the mountain? Who found me?
For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine a knight in shining armor, mainly Prince Sullivan, finding him in the snow and carrying him to safety.
The thought was ridiculous, and he pushed it aside.
That was not how things worked. He tried to sit up but barely made it an inch before weakness forced him back down.
Pain flared along his side, sharp and unforgiving, and the IV dug into the back of his hand when he shifted.
He looked at the clear tube taped to his skin, briefly wondering if he could just pull it out, but common sense won. Better to wait for a doctor.
"Finn, you're awake."
The voice came from beside him, very familiar.
He turned his head again and instantly regretted it when his skull protested and another wave of dizziness hit him, even though he was lying down.
His vision cleared slowly, and surprise crossed his face when he saw Bevin sitting in a chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as if he hadn’t moved in hours.
His hair was a mess, nothing like the polished playboy Finn knew, and his eyes were red-rimmed and tired.
Finn blinked. "Bev?" His vision cleared slowly.
Bevin smiled, then pulled his chair closer, the legs scraping on the floor, causing the dull ache in Finn's head to intensify.
"Yeah, I'm here." His eyes scanned Finn quickly. "Are you in any pain?"
Finn frowned weakly, ignoring the question. "How long have I been here? What are you doing here?" he asked instead, his voice rough and barely more than a whisper.
Bevin let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though it wavered at the edges. "Nice to see you too," he said softly. "And you've been in a coma for two days."
Finn swallowed, his throat still burning. "How did I get here?" He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side stopped him cold.
"I'll answer your questions when you answer mine. How are you feeling? Better yet, let me get the doctor." Bevin started to stand, already turning toward the door.
"No," Finn said quickly, the sudden urgency in his voice surprising even him. The movement pulled at his ribs, and he sucked in a shallow breath. "Not yet. Help me up."
Bevin paused, studying him for a moment before nodding. "Alright."
He adjusted the bed, raising it slowly until Finn was sitting upright enough to breathe easier. The shift eased some of the pressure in his chest. Bevin carefully pulled the blankets higher, tucking them around him before sitting back down.
"Thanks," Finn breathed. "Good son."
Bevin stared at him. "You have the strength to joke? Are you kidding me right now? You scared the hell out of us." His voice carried exhaustion more than anger.
"Sorry," Finn whispered.
"Forget it." Bevin exhaled slowly. "Do you remember anything?"
Finn hesitated, searching through the fog in his mind. "I was skiing," he murmured. "Then I don't know. I think I got hit by something and lost my balance. After that, everything just got out of control." He swallowed, his throat still raw. "Why are you here?"
Bevin’s expression shifted, something complicated crossing his face.
“Yeah. My dad called me for your number. He said you hadn’t gone back to the cabin, and he was worried.
” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“And let’s just say he didn’t sit around about it.
He went looking for you. I helped track your location.
” He held Finn’s gaze. “He’s the one who found you. ”
So he was the one who found me?
Finn’s chest tightened despite the ache in his ribs. Then where is he? Why isn’t he here?
The steady beeping beside him quickened slightly, subtle but unmistakable. Bevin’s gaze flicked toward the monitor before returning to Finn’s face.
The questions lingered in the quiet room, heavier than the mechanical rhythm filling it.
Finn became aware of the way Bevin was staring at him, too closely, too knowingly.
Normally, he could read his friend without effort, could predict the next joke or jab before it left his mouth.
But with his head pounding and everything still slightly blurred around the edges, he couldn’t tell what Bevin was thinking.
"Why didn't you tell me you were staying with him?"
"It didn't matter," Finn whispered.
Bevin sighed, leaning back slightly. “Finn, be honest with me. Is there something going on between you two?”
Finn lowered his lashes, unable to hold his friend’s gaze. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. The monitor beside him picked up for a split second, the beeping quickening before he forced himself to breathe evenly. He looked back at Bevin just as he heard a quiet chuckle.
"My dad had that exact expression when I asked him the same thing."
"Nothing is going on between us," Finn said, the words coming out steadier than he felt.
Bevin stared at Finn with sharp eyes, making him nervous. "Then I guess I should be asking you if you want something to happen."
Finn's fingers tightened slightly against the blanket. "I don't know." He looked away, toward the far wall. "Maybe."
Bevin exhaled slowly and shook his head, running a hand over his face. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"
Finn turned his head toward the window, watching the faint reflection of himself in the glass. "There's nothing for you to worry about," he said quietly. "I'm sure your father only sees me as your friend. Or another son. Someone he could help out." The last two words felt heavier than he expected.
He shifted his gaze back to Bevin. "He just wants to be my partner."
"Wait. What?" Bevin shot upright in his chair, eyes wide.
Finn winced and brought his hand to the side of his head as the dull ache flared again. "Lower your damn voice," he snapped, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. "My head is killing me."
"Sorry, sorry, but partner? What kind of partner?" Bevin asked, lowering his voice but leaning forward again, curiosity burning through his surprise.
"Business partner," Finn said, then hesitated. "But, but…" He trailed off, unsure whether he should feel embarrassed admitting this out loud. Still, Bevin had always been the one person he could tell anything to, even the thoughts he wished he didn’t have.
"But what?" Bevin prodded.
Finn stared at the blanket twisted in his fingers. "I thought he was asking me to be his lover." He let out a slow breath. "He has no idea that's what I thought. I got so embarrassed about what I built up in my own mind that I haven't been able to be in the same room with him."
"I want to say I'm shocked," Bevin replied, slowly breaking the silence that had settled over the room, "but deep down, I kind of figured you were crushing on my dad."
Finn's head snapped up. "What? When? How?"
"I'd say I figured it out during our sophomore year." He shrugged.
"Is that why you started calling me Mom?" Finn asked, aghast.
"Nah, that was actually a fluke," Bevin said with a soft chuckle. "Anyway, I remember how you stared at my dad like he was a god the first time I introduced you to him."
Finn opened his mouth to argue that it meant nothing, but Bevin cut him off with a small shake of his head.
"For most people who don't know you, they would think it was admiration.
And maybe in the beginning it was, but it changed, and you became focused.
Once you decide on something, there is not anything anyone can say to change your mind.
And I saw that look in your eyes when you met my father.
You might not have realized it then, but I saw traces of it over the years.
" He leaned forward, his voice lowering.
"Finn, you had some of the hottest guys in school asking you out, and you turned them down without a second thought.
I could see you sizing them up in your mind, comparing them to my dad, and the second I mentioned anything about him, your eyes did this weird thing that told me you wanted him. "
Finn's chest tightened.
"But you also convinced yourself you couldn’t have him," Bevin continued. "So you rejected my offers to go home for the holidays. I understood, so I didn’t push it. But maybe I should have. Then you wouldn’t be lying here wondering whether my father is attracted to you."
"I hate that you know me so well."
Bevin gave a small, knowing chuckle. "How else am I supposed to protect you?"
"Why?" Finn asked quietly.
"Why what?"
"Aren't you angry?"
Bevin's expression softened. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I've had time to process my feelings," he admitted. "And I decided that if you ever get the courage to tell my dad how you feel, and he accepts it, I'll stand by you."
"Why?"
"Because it's you, Finn," Bevin said quietly.
"You see the real me, not some rich kid people want to use.
You've never asked me for anything. You've challenged me to do better.
To be better. You're a true friend, one I didn’t even know I needed until I met you.
" He gave him a small, sincere smile. "So if it's my dad you want, then go for it. "
"But…"
"Don't hold back on your feelings, Finn," Bevin said gently. "You never know what might happen."
"You're being very mature about this," Finn murmured.
"It's your fault," Bevin huffed, though there was no real heat behind it. He stood and stepped closer to the bed, leaning down to press a light kiss to Finn's forehead. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it.
It was Bevin's way of comforting him, and sometimes his way of ending conversations that cut too deep.
"I'm going to get the doctor," he added softly.
Finn nodded and turned his gaze toward the window, watching the faint outline of snow beyond the glass instead of watching Bevin leave the room.
Bevin opened the door and quirked a brow at his father, who was standing right in front of it. Finn had no idea, but Bevin knew his father had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Some of what he’d said had not only been for Finn, but for his father as well.
Prince stepped aside to let Bevin pass, then quietly closed the door so Finn wouldn’t hear what was about to be said between them.
How can Finn not see that my dad is just as taken with him? Two intelligent idiots.
“Are you in love with him?” his dad asked quietly.
Bevin smirked, though his eyes searched his father’s face. “Would you step aside if I were?”
“Bevin, I would give you anything you want in this world,” he father said in a steady and unapologetic tone, “but I can’t give up Finn, not when I’m not sure of what we could be.”
Bevin nodded slowly. “I might not be in love with him, Dad. But if you hurt him, or make him sad enough to cry, I will never forgive you.”
Prince studied his son carefully. “You care that much about him?”
What he said was the truth. He wasn’t in love with Finn.
Sure, Finn was gorgeous, but from the first day they’d met, Bevin saw him as a brother he needed to protect.
He had even gone so far as to start a company with Finn’s goals and vision in mind, and after graduation, he planned to turn it over to him.
Bevin understood the cutthroat business world and knew how to navigate it, thanks to his family’s guidance, so he took on the backbreaking work for Finn.
He didn’t want him to struggle any more than he already had.
Bevin turned and looked through the small window in the hospital door. “He’s important to me.”
A touch on his shoulder made Bevin glance back at his father.
“I can’t promise that I won’t fuck up sometimes,” Prince admitted quietly. “But I’ll do my best not to break his heart.”
“Good,” Bevin replied. “You have some time to work things out with Finn. I’m going to get the doctor.”
He turned to leave, but his father’s next words stopped him.
“He’s right, you know. You’re being really grown-up about this.” Prince stepped closer and pressed a kiss to Bevin’s forehead. “I’m proud of you, Son.”
Bevin looked away, attempting to hide the faint blush creeping up his neck. “Go sweet-talk him,” he muttered, waving a hand as if to shoo his father toward Finn’s room.