The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Chapter 249: A PROMISE

Abigail

It took just one whiff of antiseptic and I knew I was in a hospital. That was enough to make my eyelids fly open.

There was the low persistent beeping of a monitor, distant voices, and the soft squeak of shoes on the floor.

My eyes swept the white ceiling as I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what the hell I was doing here, and then the pain arrived all at once — horrible and total.

Oh my god, who set me on fire? My ribs, my shoulder, and the side of my head were screaming.

I turned my head slightly and found Annette half out of the chair beside my bed, her eyes red-rimmed and enormous.

"You absolute menace," she whispered and wailed at the same time, snatching my hand with both of hers. "Do you know how long you’ve been out? Do you have any idea—"

Her voice broke and she pressed my hand against her cheek.

"Hey," I rasped. My throat felt like sandpaper. "Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup."

She let out something between a laugh and a sob. "I’ll whoop your ass."

"Give me water first at least," I managed.

She was up instantly, pouring from the jug on the bedside table with trembling hands. I let her help me sip from the straw because my arms felt like they’d been replaced with wet cotton.

River appeared in the doorway and stopped dead the moment she saw my open eyes.

"Thank God." She exhaled. "She’s awake! Annette, she’s awake!"

"I can see that, River."

"Right. Yes." She stepped inside, dragging a hand over her face. Her eyes were puffy and red. Just how long had they been here? They both looked completely spent. "How do you feel?"

"Like a truck hit me," I said. They both stared at me and I winced. "Too soon to joke about it?"

"Extremely," Annette snapped, but she squeezed my hand. I let myself breathe for a moment. The monitor beeped steadily and my ribs burned with every inhale, but I was here. I was awake.

"Angel!" I gasped, trying to push myself upright. Pain detonated across my entire right side. "Finnegan. Where— where are they?"

"She’s fine." Annette’s hands pressed me firmly back against the pillow. "Angel is fine, Abby. Minor cuts. She’s been in and out of this room about forty times since yesterday crying over you. She’s sleeping down the hall right now."

Yesterday?

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost eighteen hours," River replied.

Eighteen hours.

My eyes searched the room. "Where’s Finnegan?"

Neither of them said anything and my heart sank. "River? Where is he?"

They exchanged a look I did not like at all.

"He’s here," Annette said quickly. "He’s here, he’s okay—"

"The truck didn’t touch my eyes, Annie. I can see your faces."

River exhaled slowly. "He had a gash in his side from the crash. He didn’t know. He was so focused on you, he told the paramedics all the blood was yours. By the time they got him here, he’d lost..." She paused. "He lost a lot of blood, Abby. They took him into surgery about an hour after you."

"Oh my god, please tell me he’s fine." I shoved the blanket aside and tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "Where is he? I need to see him."

"Abby, you just woke up-"

"Annette, I will pass right back out if I don’t see him!"

"Oh, just let her go," River muttered. "The only reason Finn isn’t here is because he’s not awake yet, otherwise he would have torn down the wall between them anyway."

They wouldn’t let me walk. Non-negotiable, apparently. Annette wheeled me down the corridor while River walked ahead and smoothed things over with the nurses who moved to intercept us.

The room they had put Finnegan in was quiet.

He looked wrong in a hospital bed.

Finnegan Wolfe was a man built for boardrooms and power and commanding every space he entered. Not this — his broad frame lying too still against white sheets with tubes running out of him.

He had stitches on his forehead. A monitor was clipped to his finger and his side was heavily bandaged.

A sob tore out of me as Annette wheeled me close. I reached for his hand and pressed my lips to his knuckles.

"You scared me," I whispered. "You scared me so badly. You should have told someone you were hurt, you big beautiful idiot."

"We’re all thinking the same thing, right? It’s Gina," River murmured, moving to stand beside me.

"Would she really try to kill her own son and granddaughter?" Annette asked, her voice hollow with disbelief.

"And me," I said quietly. "Let’s not talk about this next to Finn. He’s been through enough."

He woke up forty minutes later.

I knew the exact moment because his hand, which had been loosely curled around mine the entire time, suddenly gripped tight.

"Hey." I leaned forward. "Hey, I’m here."

His green eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, drifting across the ceiling, then the room, then settling on my face. Relief broke across every inch of his expression.

"Hi," I whispered, smiling at him through the sting behind my eyes.

Finnegan’s throat worked as he swallowed. His gaze moved over the rest of me as though cataloguing every wound.

"You’re awake." His voice was rough and low.

"I’m awake."

He lifted his free hand and touched my face. His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone carefully, skirting the stitches at my temple, and something about the tenderness of it quietly undid me.

I turned my face into his palm and kissed it.

"When you went limp in that car." His thumb moved slowly across my cheek. "I have never in my life been that afraid of anything, Abigail."

"I’m alright."

"I don’t—" He exhaled. "I am not built for that. Losing you, I mean. There is no version of me that survives losing you, Abigail. I need you to understand that."

My throat tightened.

"So you need to stop throwing yourself in front of things," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Cars. Guns. Whatever comes next. You need to stop. I’ll end this, I swear it. My mother, Devin — I’ll put an end to all of it. So promise me you won’t do something as crazy as leaving me."

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes and slipped free with each blink. I pressed my face deeper into his palm. "I would never, Finnegan. Never."