Despite Finley being awake and looking like nothing had happened, Kage was still rattled by the events of the night before. He kissed the inside of Finley’s palm and released a sigh.
“We’ll see you later.” Mat and Peyton walked out, their sun-kissed faces full of infatuation for each other, even after almost a year of marriage.
“Come here, love.” It could have been a moniker any polite man might throw at someone without a second thought, but the way Finley said it, with warmth and sunshine in his tone, made it clear he meant it differently.
“You scared me so fucking much.” Kage scooted closer and put Finley’s hand over his heart. It had almost beat out of his chest when Finley had been shot.
“I’m fine, Kage. They took the bullet out and I’ll be back at work in no time.” Finley’s smile fell as he met Kage’s gaze. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
What did he call me?Kage took a gulp of air and tried to hold himself together. “When you were shot and bleeding… I thought—” His breath came out ragged. “I asked you for one thing. And you promised. You fucking promised, not to leave me.” His chest hurt and so did his leg. Kage fished out a blister pack from his pocket and squeezed out two pills. He swallowed them dry, ignoring Finley’s raised eyebrows.
“Look, I’m okay.” It was Finley’s turn to put Kage’s hand over his heart. It beat strong and steady. “I didn’t die.”
“But you could have.”
“I’m sorry you saw me get hurt, but I had to be there. I may have to do a stupid thing or two if the Don asks in the future. But this? I volunteered for it. Now that it’s over and they’ll be behind bars, I feel how heavy the weight of injustice was. It’s lifting slightly. I never truly moved on, and probably never will. But last night helped, and being there was worth much more than a bullet wound.”
“So, risking your life is better than getting therapy?” Kage shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Fuck, he was taking out his hurt and anger on Finley. He didn’t deserve this.
“No. It’s fine. It’s the truth.” Finley’s voice turned dangerously dry and his serious expression told Kage that he was in deep shit. “I’ll go see a fucking therapist. But will you do physical therapy?” He held Kage’s gaze in a challenge.
“What?” A cold shiver of awareness ran down Kage’s back. “I don’t need it.”
Finley’s laughter was devoid of humour but his eyes were filled with concern.
Well shit.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the painkillers in every nook and cranny of your flat. And that your limp comes and goes. I was waiting for you to tell me about the pills, but at least now you know I’m not that stupid.”
“Is… is that an ultimatum?”
“Nope. You do you.” Finley patted Kage’s hand. “But for this relationship to work, it can’t be based on lies.”
“You lied to me too.”
“Sort of. But this was the last one, I promise. If you can even call wanting to see criminals caught a lie. I’ve done what I had to do and I’m ready to work on myself and us.” Finley nodded once and shifted on the bed.
“How?”
“For now, by going to the bathroom. I need to pee.” With a grunt, Finley stood up, brushing off Kage’s hand when he tried to help him.
The urge to scream boiled in Kage but he squeezed his thigh instead, the pain in it easing as the pills kicked in.
A knock had Kage shooting to his feet.
“Sorry,” a nurse said and cracked the door open. “I need the patient’s ID for the records again.”
“Uh, it must be in his wallet.” Kage reached for Finley’s jacket and fished out the folded leather wallet. Sure enough, Finley’s ID was first, and he handed it to the nurse who took a look at it and returned it with a curt ‘thank you’ before she stepped out.
Sliding the document back, Kage froze. The sight of the card underneath drained the blood from his face. He shouldn’t pry, but what the fuck? “Do not resuscitate?” His hands shook as he took it out, and the motion caused a tiny folded envelope to fall out on his lap. The choked sound that left him generated from deep within his scarred soul. Finley’s handwriting on it spelled “open when I’m dead”.
“You were never supposed to see these.” Finley said from the bathroom doorway.
“This looks like a suicide letter,” Kage whispered, utter terror filling his veins.
Finley entered the room, but stopped a foot away. Kage didn’t try to hide the absolute shock and anguish that must have been on his face. “Finley… What are these?” The trembling in his hands was intense, but he was holding onto the card and envelope so hard, his fingertips turned white.
“I want to say it’s not what it looks like, but that would be a lie. You should know that I wrote these before I met you. Since then, everything has changed.” Finley’s voice broke. “Everything. Believe me.”
