Page 39 of Sometimes You Stay

Yet they’d been the best three days he could remember.

Which meant either he needed more excitement in his life or Cretia was something special.

His mom would love that. Not that he’d ever tell her. Or that Cretia would ever meet her. Cretia’s time on the island had a countdown. As soon as her order from the Apple store arrived, she’d be back in the air, off to parts unknown. Unlikely to return soon.

Or ever.

Finn pressed his shoulder against her arm as he finished attaching the third corner brace. If asked, he would have claimed it was so he could get the right angle for the screw. The silk of her skin against his arm was a happy accident. Mostly. And maybe a tiny reminder that at least for the moment they were in the same room.

Looking up, he caught a genuine smile floating across her face. “You’re better at this than you think.”

“Or maybe you’re just good at telling me what to do.”

“Probably that.” He added a wink, which drew another grin from her. “You want to hand me that last board?”

Pushing herself off her knees, she stood and strolled over to the last side panel. Though she appeared sturdy and capable, the slat dwarfed her, and she lumbered under its weight.

“Sorry, I should have—” He rose, fully intending to take the wood from her, but walked right into the end of it instead.

Fire seared across his left cheek and up toward his eye as the board clattered to the ground, adding to the sudden pounding at his temple. Blood rushed through his ears, and he clamped a hand over his face, stumbling into the wall.

“Finn. Finn. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” She was close enough that her breath fanned across the front of his neck where he’d left a few buttons undone. And then her cool hands were on him, firm and urgent, pulling at his wrist and cupping his other cheek. “Talk to me. Can you see? Are you bleeding?”

He couldn’t see a thing. But it was because he was pretty sure opening his eyes would be a one-way ticket straight into the arms of an impending headache.

Instead of responding, he sank against the wall, letting his knees bend until he reached the floor. Cretia went with him, her grip unwavering despite her mildly panicked gasps.

“Do I need to call someone? What’s your emergency number here? I can get an ambulance. Or call Marie. Or—”

Wrapping his free hand around her wrist silenced her for a moment, and he tugged her fingers from his cheek to his chest. Hand splayed against his pounding heart, she scooted closer, her legs tangling with his.

“Finn?” she finally whispered. “Are you...”

“Just stunned,” he finally managed through gritted teeth, forcing his labored breathing to a more even pace.

“I didn’t see you. I’m s-sorry.”

It was the little catch in her voice, an almost sob, that made his eyes fly open. Immediately they flooded with tears from the shock and the pain, and he wiped them away just as the headache he’d known was coming pummeled his brain.

Ignoring the pain, he reached for Cretia’s face, cupping her cheeks and urging her to look at him. “Hey. Hey.” Her long black lashes fluttered, and she finally met his gaze. “It was my own fault. I walked into it. You didn’t hit me.”

She made no indication that she heard or agreed with him as her expression broke. “Your face!”

“That’s what all the girls say.”

Clearly, she didn’t think him funny. A scowl set into place as she gingerly pressed the pads of her fingers against his cheekbone. They felt more like a sledgehammer, and he jerked back from her touch. Every part of his skull threatened to mutiny. Sighing heavily, he rested his head against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and held as still as possible.

It might have been two minutes or ten before he realized Cretia hadn’t moved. She was still pressed against his side, one hand on his chest and the other smoothing the skin along his jaw with a slow stroke of her thumb.

Cracking one eye open, he watched her watching him, her gaze intent on the left side of his face. He figured he wasn’t bleeding or she’d be trying to mop it up. But the skin felt too tight over his cheek, and he’d probably have a black eye in the morning.

Dealing with all of that seemed unimportant compared to sitting in the quiet with Cretia. Her touch was soft, her fingers cool, but they warmed a spot right in the center of his ribs. That heat spread through him, reaching the tips of his fingers and toes. It was all Cretia.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?” He managed to open his other eye far enough to see out of it.

“Are you all right?” Her words were low, hesitant. But she didn’t look away from his gaze. Amber flames flickered in her eyes and set off a matching movement low in his belly.

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