Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
OAKLEIGH
I’ve made a decision. An executive decision, in fact.
I’m not going to overthink this. All I’m doing is stressing myself out worrying about feelings and reveling in my anger toward Finn when, frankly, there isn’t any anger left.
From now on, while Finn and I are in this fake relationship, I’m just going to go with the flow.
Finn needs a girlfriend, then fine, I’ll be that for him.
I’m going to enjoy being looked at like I’m worth something more than a few nights in bed and a dinner at some shabby restaurant.
From now on, it’s picnic blankets in a decorated barn and being picked up from work at five in the morning.
From now on, it’s kissing my boyfriend and helping him see that a mental-health disorder is the furthest thing from shameful. It’s acceptance and communication.
All well and good having such a realization such as this, but I think I may have actually had it a bit late.
Because I am fully convinced that this work shift is going to kill me. And before Finn and I even had a chance to finish what we started at the bar.
My entire body feels heavy with exhaustion. I can barely bring myself to speak to patients, and it’s even at a point where Antoine has to administer all the medication as I keep seeing two of every line on the needle.
“You shouldn’t be fucking working while you’re like this,” Antoine chides as we leave the bay of a patient with a severe burn on his arm. “This place is killing you, Lee. Six night shifts in a row is goddamn ridiculous.”
Isn’t that an understatement. This place is sucking my soul from the inside out.
I should have had a day off in between these days, but I was woken up in the morning by a call from my boss telling me that I was needed, and like the idiot I am, I went in.
Finn chided me, as I expected, but he also made sure he was there in the waiting room ready to take me home.
There’s been two mornings where I’ve found Bash instead of him, but he’s always left a message explaining that something had come up with work.
This morning will be the same. A few of his builders have called in sick and so he has to go to pick up the slack.
My plan for after my shift had been to stop by his work and bring him coffee and breakfast, but I’m dead on my feet. I can barely write my own name on the charts I fill out.
“Michaels, look at me.” I turn to face Antoine and catch Nicole standing right beside him. “Go. Home.”
“But I’m not done,” I say weakly.
“You’re only supposed to be here until three. It’s four-thirty. You’ve served your sentence. Go. Home. Now.”
I don’t even have it in me to argue. I want to fucking go home.
Nodding, I hand Nicole the chart in my hand before picking up lip balm and keys off of the desk.
“I’ll see you guys next week.”
“Oakleigh?” Nicole catches my attention before I leave. She watches me worriedly. “Maybe consider some vacation days? You need the rest. You deserve it. Besides, if you take some time, you’d be able to work on your book some more.”
She’s right. It would be great to catch up on some sleep for a week. Maybe even finish what Finn and I started? I kinda just want to spend some more time with him. It’s time I be a bit more honest.
As for the writing part? I’m not so sure.
I still haven’t heard anything from the agent I sent it to and the panic of it being rejected and told that it’s shit is halting any motivation to write the ending.
Writing has been my dream since I was a kid.
To be told after all this time that my dream is not going to amount to anything is my biggest fear.
And of course I know that rejection doesn’t equate to worth in this field of work, but all of my years of yearning for this have created a massive ball of anxiety that just sits on my chest and sends thoughts to my brain that make me doubt my worth.
Bash stands outside the entrance to the hospital, a joint in his hand.
“Right outside a hospital? Really?” I ask.
I watch him jump and struggle to put it out, then spin toward me, and if I had even a grain of energy left, I would laugh at the look of pure terror on his face.
“Fuck, you look like shit,” he exclaims.
“This really needs to stop being the first thing you say to me when you pick me up.”
He winces. “Sorry, Lee. You’re still beautiful if that helps.”
“You’re fine, I don’t even have the energy to properly be offended.”
“Let’s get you home so you can sleep, then.” He heads toward his truck.
“No.”
He stops. “No?”
“I need to make two stops instead.”
He scoffs in disbelief. “Oakleigh, look at you, you’re dead on your feet. Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“I wanted to bring some coffee and some breakfast to Finn before he starts work.”
He squints at me, as if he can better see where the hell such a stupid idea came from. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“He always makes an effort for me.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t kill himself to do it.”
“But he does it,” I argue.
I can see that he wants to argue, but I’m determined.
Not only would it be good for someone to see me make an effort for Finn like this and keep up the ruse, it would also just be good to do something nice for him.
I haven’t done a single bit of washing all week because all he does when he is at mine is cook, clean and allow me to relax as much as possible.
He even gave me a foot rub the other night. I need to do this.
And I think Bash can see that, because all he does is sigh and pinch his eyes with his fingers. “Fine,” he eventually says. “But if you die, I ain’t bringing you back here.”
“Oh, definitely not here,” I reply as I hop into the truck. “The staff are terrible.”
* * *
I manage to sneak in a nap before getting up and helping Bash make breakfast. By almost seven, we make it to the construction site where Finn is working (I know this because he insists on sharing his location with me all the time).
There’s a bald guy leaning against the privacy fence—the tall, dark, and handsome type.
The minute he sees me, his eyes widen and he stands straight.
“Well, hi, there,” he says looking down at the coffee and breakfast stuff in my hand. “That for me?”
Ew, okay maybe just tall, dark, and cringey.
“I’m looking for Finn?” I say, completely ignoring his wandering eyes. “My name’s Oakleigh, I’m his girlfriend.”
Bald dude’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. “Holy shit, you’re the boss’s girl? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!”
“Where is he?” I can hear Bash snickering behind me.
“Go straight in. You’ll see him.”
“Thanks.”
I move around him and go through the gate, but not before Bash calls out and says, “I’ll wait here for you! Someone should probably give this guy some tips on how to talk to women.”
My laugh is loud and hoarse as I go through the gate and into the courtyard.
They seem to be building an extension onto a house while also doing up the main house itself.
An entire renovation. The house is a skeleton, only the metal beams and concrete foundation remain to let you know there was a house there to begin with.
Piles of bricks lay strewn around the site as well as bags of building materials and blueprints.
I hear him before I see him. That rich, carefree laugh hits me and melts down my spine.
When I see him, my mouth goes dry. Worn-out jeans cover his legs, shaping a very toned behind.
But on top? Nothing. Nada. Just a shirtless Finn carrying sacks of plaster around like it’s absolutely nothing.
I did notice that he doesn’t spend an awful amount of time in the gym, and yet his body is still one to admire with its corded muscle and toned abs, and I can see how.
Who needs the gym when your whole job is one big workout?
Finn does a double-take when he sees me, hazel eyes wide, body frozen. His expression morphs into concern as he takes in my features, the crumpled purple top that matches the bags under my eyes and the mismatched socks that peak out from the tops of my sneakers.
I know my skin is pale and my mascara is smudged—why I even decided to wear mascara to work today I have no idea—but overall, I just look like absolute shit.
He storms over to me, concern quickly becoming frustration. By the time he reaches me, he’s breathing heavy, his chest heaving.
“Why are you not at home sleeping?” he asks. No “hello,” no “how are you?’”
“I … uh…” I stutter, no longer confident that this was a good idea. “I wanted to bring you some breakfast and some coffee since you have to work today.”
His eyebrows dip, but sooner or later, a smile works its way onto his lips.
“You brought me breakfast?”
“Nothing special, just waffles and syrup with some blueberries.”
I pass him the Tupperware container that I found lodged in the back of my kitchen cupboard. His eyebrows raise.
“You made me breakfast?”
“Don’t go getting a big head about it,” I tease, but even that is taking up too much energy. I’m in the fucking minus now.
Quicker than I can keep track of, Finn places the container on the back of a truck next to us and takes my face in his hands.
“What happened at work today?” he asks as he inspects my face.
“What didn’t happen.” I try and laugh but it comes out sounding more like a strangled cry.
“Cherry.”
“I’m okay. I’m just really tired. It’s been a long week.”
He watches me for what feels like several long minutes, searching my face for something that I can’t quite pinpoint. His thumb softly grazes my cheek and I lean into his hand, grateful for the comfort.
He turns toward the rest of his team.
“Raze!”
The man who I’m assuming is Raze lifts his head. He’s a young guy, maybe a few years younger than I am—blond curls going crazy on top of his head, and green eyes that could start a traffic jam.
“Whoa,” I mumble under my breath.
“Don’t even,” Finn snaps at me before turning back to Raze. “I’m taking my girl home. I’ll be back in a half hour, okay?”