“Don’t worry.” He gives me a grin and a wink, then turns back to the window. One second he’s there, the next he’s not. But when I hear him cry out in pain, my heart leaps into my throat.
“Finn! Oh my God!” He’s lying on the ground, clutching his knee. “Are you hurt?”
“Finn? Ashley? Where are you?”
“Pierre! Around the back!” I scream, watching Finn, who still hasn’t said anything, he just groans. I can see him breathing in and out deeply. Pierre and Oliver come around the building, and Pierre rushes to Finn’s side, kneeling on the wet ground.
“We got stuck in the bathroom upstairs and he jumped out of the window,” I call down. Oliver, the winery owner, looks up at me.
“Oh dear, that door. I am so sorry.” He hurries off, hopefully to come and let me out as I watch Finn slowly come to stand, leaning heavily on Pierre.
Sure enough, the bathroom door opens and Oliver is standing there, fretting and twisting his hands together. “I am so sorry, Ashley, I should have warned you both about the door.”
“It’s fine,” I say as I rush past him, anxious to get to Finn. By the time I make it to the front of the building, Finn is sitting on a bench, still clutching his knee. I drop down to the ground in front of him and my hands cover his, making his head jerk up in surprise.
“Ashley, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” His voice is laced with pain, and I’m filled with mixed emotion. Guilt that he got hurt because of me, relief that it’s nothing more serious, and a desire to take care of him. “I’m taking you to get checked out.”
I stand and face Pierre. “Can you help him get to my car?”
Pierre gives me an enigmatic smile that I can’t be bothered to make sense of. “Yes. You’ll take good care of our Finn, won’t you?”
I give him a brisk nod and hurry over to my car, which is thankfully nearby. Clearing off my front seat, I slide it all the way back to give him as much legroom as I can. Still, he winces when he gets in, and his head falls back onto the headrest. Given the way he isn’t fighting me on this, I can tell he’s really hurting.
All because of me.
Chapter fifteen
Finn
The throb in my knee is drowning out everything else. It’s the same leg I injured playing soccer my senior year of high school. All I can think of is, I hope to God I haven’t torn the ligaments again because healing from that injury was hell. And I wasn’t trying to launch a new business.
“I just feel so awful. Can I stop to get you some coffee or maybe some ice? Wait, I have a blanket in the back seat if you want it.”
Ashley hasn’t stopped fretting since we left Oliver’s winery. For the most part, I’ve ignored her. I’m sure she means well, but I’m focused on holding my knee steady since any sudden movement is making it hurt even worse.
“I’m fine, Ash,” I grit out between my teeth. “Honestly, just take me back to the Airbnb. I’ll get some crutches tomorrow and I’ll be fine.” Okay, I’m lying. I know I’m not fine, I know I need to get checked out, but seriously, she needs to stop hovering.
Thankfully, we pull up to the Westport Hospital a few minutes later. I let Ashley come around to help me out of the car because the truth is, I need it. Slowly, we hobble to the main entrance, where Ashley manages to find a wheelchair for me. When she goes to push me inside, I wave her off. “I can do this.”
She stands by silently, twisting her hands together as I check in with the triage nurse. When I’m done, we head over to the waiting area and Ashley sits down in a chair beside me. “You don’t have to wait, Ash,” I say, stifling the curse of pain I want to let out.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me Ash,” she says it so quietly, I almost miss it over the noisy waiting room.
“Is that okay?”
She turns and smiles at me softly. “Yeah, I like it. And I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind.”
No, I don’t mind. It’s oddly comforting having her here with me. My knee still throbs, making me feel nauseous from the pain and worried I might have done some real damage. But Ashley wanting to stay, having someone care about me this way, it feels good.
“Thank you.”
When I feel her cover my hand that’s clutching the handle of the wheelchair with a death grip, I sense my entire body relax at her warm touch. Turning my palm up, I thread my fingers with hers.
“I hate hospitals,” I state in a low voice. My words are punctuated by a low moan from someone else in the ER. Ashley’s fingers squeeze mine lightly and I tip my head up to look at her, my eyes darting over her face as if I’m seeing it for the first time. And in a way, I feel like I am. I’m seeing more than just her beauty, I’m seeing her kindness and compassion. Even though I have been embarrassingly harsh toward her, she’s here with me.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass.”
