“Would you catch me again?” A joke, except his voice cracked. He looked exhausted, pale and drawn, and it somehowpunched the breath out of me—a rush of affection for this stubborn, beautiful man who’d rather keel over than admit he needed a day off.
“Always,” I said, gentle like a promise.
He stared at me, blue eyes hazy, lashes blinking drugged-slowly. “Yeah?”
“Finn…” I didn’t know how to finish—there was nothing I could say. Nothing I was allowed to say. Fortunately, we hit ground level, doors sliding open on a mostly deserted lobby. We walked together, close enough that I could steady him if needed but far enough to seem appropriate. Cool night air wrapped around us once we stepped outside, Finn still in his scrubs. He could ditch them another day.
“Here,” I said, holding out my coat.
He inhaled like it hurt. “Won’t you need it?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, then ducked his head and took the coat from me. I watched him slide it on, something in me going utterly still at that—Finn wearing my clothes. As if…
Yeah. No.
I turned away to flag a cab idling at the curb.
“I can—” Finn started saying, only for a cough to swallow the rest of his protest. I cut him off with a pointed look.
“You’re not taking the subway.”
He didn’t try again, and when I opened the door for him, he sagged into the back seat, mumbling a greeting at the cabbie along with an address in Washington Heights.
Okay, this was my cue to let him go. I was late for a date with my bed, and he’d be fine from here. Right?
I paused—door still open, my hand on the frame. Then I glanced around. Shadows where we stood, the hospital lit up against a velvet night sky that never went truly dark, not like back home where I could see the stars.
He probably would be fine from here. But what if he wasn’t? He was sick, wobbly. Seeing him home was…defensible.
I climbed in after him and shut the door.
“Jesse?” he asked, so soft and tired it damn near broke my heart.
“Just making sure you get home okay.” I watched him across the gap between us—leaned against the window with his head tipped back, small in a way he really wasn’t. Not usually. “Is that all right?”
“Thank you,” he whispered. I barely caught it over the sweeping classical music that trickled from the speakers, light as evening rain.
“You’re welcome,” I said—as if it was all about him, like I was doing him a favor when taking him home felt selfishly necessary.
We pulled into motion, city lights blurring outside the window.
Finn lived in an aggressively plain brick-slab building that rose ten floors or so, with an aluminum-framed glass door leading into the lobby and an ancient intercom that probably only worked when it was in the mood. Cracked sidewalk, a streetlamp pouring orange light onto the pavement. Exactly the kind of place I’d have expected—typical tight-budget student accommodation, rent-controlled if he was lucky.
This was it. This was where I’d say good night and leave him.
“You good from here?” I asked.
He gave a small nod and inched open the car door on his side. A gust of chilly October air swept in, carrying the sounds of a distant truck, a deli gate clattering shut somewhere nearby—and Finn swayed, just a little, arms wrapped around himself, still bundled up in my coat.
Fuck it.
I was out of the cab before I could think, circling to his side. His head lolled slightly where he was sagged against the car, eyes half-lidded. “I think there’s, like…sunflower seeds in your pocket?”
Ah. Yeah. “It’s just for the birds,” I said. “Not for me.”
“Cute,” he mumbled, chin against his chest, and I swallowed my token protest—no need when he might not even remember this.
