Chapter 38
A cozy one bedroom with no view
Alex
The sprint from the truck to the lodge left us both soaked despite the short distance.
Inside our room, I moved immediately to close the curtains, my hands already reaching for the blackout drapes before I’d even fully processed that Finn needed darkness.
Behind me, the bed creaked as he sat heavily on the edge, and I could hear the careful way he was breathing; shallow, controlled, like he was trying not to jolt anything loose in his head.
Thunder rumbled overhead, making me flinch hard enough that my shoulder hit the window frame.
“Ouch,” I muttered, rubbing the spot as another rumble shook the building.
“Are you okay?” Finn’s voice was thin.
“I’m fine,” I responded automatically. “Medication?” I turned back to find him sitting with his elbows on his knees, head cradled in his hands.
“Ibuprofen,” he answered without looking up.
I found the bottle and shook out two soft gels into my palm. Finn’s breathing hitched as another crash of thunder shook the windows, causing me to jump. Rain drummed against the glass in sheets, the storm throwing everything it had at us.
“Here,” I pressed them into his palm, then moved to the bathroom for water. The overhead lights were too harsh, so I flicked them off and felt my way back to him in the dim glow from the bedside lamp.
He took the medication, drinking half the water before setting the glass aside. When lightning lit up the room despite the closed curtains, we both winced.
The thunder that followed was immediate and bone-deep, rattling the entire building. I couldn’t stop the small sound that escaped my throat.
“You okay?” Finn squinted up at me. I realized he was shivering, his shirt clinging to him, water dripping from his hair onto the bedspread.
“Sweetheart, you’re freezing,” I rubbed my hands over his arms instead of answering. “You’re going to get hypothermia on top of everything else.”
Another crash of thunder made me jump, my hands clenching against his arms.
Alex…”
“I’m fine.”
“Alexandra.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated, then immediately jumped again when thunder cracked overhead, closer than before. “Okay, I’m not fine.”
“Go start the shower,” he whispered, smoothing his hand over mine. “Make it hot. We’ll get warm and ignore the storm in there.”
“Together?” Heat flooded my cheeks. Even as we grew closer, Finn had been careful about how much of his body he let me see at once, including the day before when he’d stepped out of the shower in a towel. Now he was offering everything.
Finn’s eyes met mine, something shifting in his expression. “If you want.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and padded to the bathroom to do what he said, steam beginning to fill the space as the sounds of running water drowned out the sound of the storm outside.
Finn came up behind me, his hands on the doorframe as I turned.
I moved closer, my fingers finding the buttons of his shirt.
The fabric was cold and clinging, but underneath I could feel the warmth of his skin.
When I reached the third button, my knuckles brushed against a raised ridge of scar tissue.
“These must have hurt,” my fingertips traced the pale surgical line.
“Not anymore,” he replied, but his breathing had changed, becoming deeper as I continued working the buttons free. “The tattoo hurt like a son of a bitch, though. But I needed to cover what I could. Needed…”
“You needed some control over what felt uncontrollable.”
“Yeah,” he sounded relieved. “And I figured if someone was going to see evidence that I fell, at least it could be on my terms.”
Steam wrapped around us as I pushed the wet shirt off his shoulders, and I found myself taking in the full scope of what he’d been through. Burn scarring wrapped around his left shoulder and side, onto his back, surgical marks crossed his chest.
He stood still, nearly at attention, as I moved around him, my hands tracing gently over the landscape of his recovery.
His skin was a complex terrain of healed trauma that took my breath away.
Thick, ropey ridges branched across his shoulders, some areas smooth and glossy as melted wax, others raised and textured like twisted rope.
Some scars were linear and looked like they might be more surgical marks, but others branched and spread like frozen lightning across his shoulder blade and down his side.
The scarring varied in texture and color.
Hypertrophic tissue that changed from deep pink to silvery white, some patches tight and shiny, others rough and mountainous.
Understanding choked me as I realized with crushing clarity why he’d chosen Icarus for his tattoo. It wasn’t just mythology. Finn had fallen from the sky while fire consumed him, melting his skin like wax from wings that had flown too close to the sun.
I’d traced that tattoo with my fingers, never knowing I was touching the edge of a map written in flame across his skin.
“I know it’s a lot to look at,” he swallowed as I came back around to face him. I pressed my lips to the thick ridge of scar tissue near his collarbone.
“Finn, you’re perfect as you are,” I said against his skin. “My beautiful flyboy.”
His hands found my waist, and he pulled my wet sweater up as I raised my arms so he could take it off completely.
His calloused palms skimmed up my sides as the sweater came away, rough texture catching slightly on my damp skin.
He leaned down, his mouth capturing mine as he unhooked my bra next.
I unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down his hips with his underwear before stripping off my own leggings and panties.
Once the wet fabric was peeled away, we both stepped under the hot spray, the water finally washing away the chill and tension of the storm outside.
“I haven’t let anyone see…” Finn began as I pulled at the hairband holding his hair at the back of his head, massaging his scalp under the spray. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. “… just Dom, Enzo, and my doctor…”
“Hmm…” I hummed, guiding him gently to the bench at the back of the shower and pressing on his shoulders until he sat.
Even sitting he was almost at my chest height.
He held onto my waist, his forehead against my chest as I poured shampoo into my palm and began massaging it into his hair.
The weight of him leaning into me, his breath warm against my skin, and his grip on my hips calmed my nerves.
“You don’t have to hide from me, you know that right?” I whispered.
His forehead pressed harder against my chest, arms tightening around my waist, breath shuddering out against my skin.
“I know,” he responded at length as he relaxed against me. I washed my own hair before I pulled him up to rinse both of us and set him back down again to apply conditioner. His hands trailed over my backside, calloused fingers digging in gently while his lips traced soft kisses between my breasts.
The thunder was barely audible overhead as I pressed closer, my hands mapping the places where his body had been broken and healed, marveling at the strength it must have taken to survive what had marked him.
“Thank you for letting me see you,” I murmured after I rinsed us one more time, rocking onto my toes to brush my lips against his. “For trusting me with this.”
His arms tightened around me, and when the next flash of lightning came, neither of us noticed.
When we finally emerged from the bathroom, warm and relaxed, I pulled on one of my oversized sleep shirts and a pair of soft cotton panties while Finn changed into boxer briefs and a t-shirt. The storm was still raging outside, but it felt distant now, muffled by the intimacy we’d just shared.
“How do you feel about pillow forts?” I asked as he sat on the edge of the bed again.
He squinted at me in confusion. His head must have been bothering him still.
“Like when we were kids, except for adults who need to hide from storms and migraines.” I was already moving toward the second bed.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You want to build a fort?”
“I want to build us a cave,” I started gathering pillows. “Dark, soft, quiet. Storm-proof.”
Finn stood carefully, swaying slightly as he helped me strip pillows from the extra bed.
We worked mostly in silence, him moving slowly but deliberately as he helped me build.
I noted the favoring of his right side, realizing it hadn’t been as pronounced the last couple of weeks, even when he was tired.
I tried to take on the bulk of construction, but he was stubborn and insisted on helping, even when a light sweat broke out across his brow.
Despite that, we created a cocoon against the headboard of our bed within minutes.
Soft blankets tucked behind the picture above the headboard, cascading down to create the ceiling while pillows were stacked and arranged as walls to block out the world.
It was ridiculous and perfect and exactly what we both needed.
“After you,” I gestured toward our makeshift cave.
Finn crawled in first, settling back against the pillows with a sigh of relief as the soft barriers muffled the storm’s fury.
As I curled up beside him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still off.
The medication hadn’t seemed to kick in like usual, and even now, relaxed against the pillows, there was a heaviness to him that felt like more than just storm exhaustion.
“Better?” I asked, my hand finding his chest. His breathing was more labored than it should be under the soft cotton of his shirt. He covered my hand with his own, thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“Will be,” he murmured, his other arm tightened around my shoulders as another rumble passed overhead. “Though I think you might be the one hiding from the storm.”
I nestled into his side, breathing in the scent of his soap mixed with my shampoo. “Maybe we’re hiding from it together.”