The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Finnegan

Forty-eight hours ago my brother shot me in the fucking arm. The family curse was complete now, wasn’t it? I thought to myself, watching the nurse patch up my wound.

Perhaps I should be thankful Devin had been so unhinged he couldn’t see straight, because the bullet only grazed my shoulder.

Gramps had made it through emergency surgery. He’d had a cardiac arrest. The poor old man had been through a lot of trauma and already had failing health before this.

He was under constant monitoring. Meemaw hadn’t left his side except when nurses forced her to let them change her IV.

And Abigail had been running on adrenaline and terror for forty-eight hours straight, going back and forth between my ward and her grandparents’. In just two days, her eyes had gone bloodshot, and she’d grown leaner. It irked me down to my bones.

She was going to break if this continued, and there was no way in hell that was happening on my watch. River and Annette came around with Angel, but Abigail wouldn’t let them help, fussing over all three of us instead.

I made calls on the second morning and had us transferred to a private luxury wing of the hospital. It was like a hotel suite. Her Meemaw and Gramps had a ward to themselves, while we had ours, but Abigail refused to leave their room.

"Finnegan, I can’t leave this floor,"

Her eyes were bloodshot, the skin beneath them dark with circles. Her lips were chapped. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and she was wearing herself down inch by inch.

"Trust me," I murmured. "Please. Just this once. Let me handle this."

"I can’t," she whispered, and her voice cracked. "If something happens, if his heart... if Meemaw’s dehydration gets worse... I need to be here. I need to be there, Finnegan."

"No, you don’t," Annette walked into the room, narrowing her eyes at her. "Finnegan, get her out of here, she hasn’t slept in two days!"

"I’m fine," Abigail shot back.

"Your grandparents will be well taken care of, Abigail," I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"You need to stop, baby. Just for a few hours. You’re shaking so hard you can barely hold a cup of water."

She looked down at her hands. They were indeed trembling.

"I can’t fall apart," she said. "If I fall apart, everything falls apart."

I stepped closer, cupping her face in my hands. "You don’t have to hold the world together alone anymore. I’m here. I’m right here, and so is your family. Annette, River, and Angel are here. Let us carry you, love,"

Tears spilled over, down her cheeks, and she leaned her forehead against my chest, her hands fisting in my shirt. "I’m so tired, Finnegan."

"I know," I murmured into her hair, holding her against me. "I know, my love. Let me help, okay?"

I got nothing in response. When I pulled back, Abigail’s head had dropped against my chest. She had fallen asleep.

With my good arm, I carried her out of her grandparents’ ward and toward mine. The bedroom was dim, the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun.

I laid Abigail down on the king-sized bed, and she sank into the mattress, gasping suddenly, her eyes flying open with fright.

I kicked off my shoes and climbed in beside her, pulling her back against my chest. She was tense at first. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pressed slow kisses to the back of her neck.

"You’re safe," I whispered. "They’re safe. Devin is in custody. Sleep, my love. I’ve got you."

"I love you," she mumbled.

"I love you," I whispered against her temple.

It took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of her body fighting it, muscles twitching, breath catching, before exhaustion finally won and she melted into me.

I held her that way for a while, stroking her hair with my good arm. My left shoulder was all bandaged up.

My eyes traced her face, memorizing every detail. She was so strong, my Abigail. So determined to carry the world on her shoulders, and it was my job now to show her she didn’t have to.

She would never have to. When I was certain she wouldn’t wake, I carefully extracted myself from the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before slipping from the room.

Annette was waiting in the sitting area, a book open on her lap, a cup of tea steaming on the side table. She glanced up as I closed the bedroom door quietly.

"Out like a light," I confirmed.

Annette smiled sadly. "Finally. I was afraid she’d drop dead on her feet."

"She’s stubborn," I grumbled.

"Like you’re any different," she shot back. "Should you even be walking around with that bullet wound?"

I shrugged. "It doesn’t hurt that much. Besides, I have an important meeting to attend."

The meeting was with Prosecutor Benjamin and the detective in the corridor of the private wing.

They both looked up when I stepped out.

"Mr. Wolfe," Benjamin stepped forward to shake my hand. "Good to see you’re doing alright."

"Thank you. What’s the next step now? How’s our case?"

Benjamin chuckled. "It’s strong. Stronger than I even hoped. Devin is in custody, as you know. There would be no bail, considering he could just disappear. The judge agreed he was a danger to the community. He’s being held in solitary due to his...status."

"Status," the detective snorted. "You mean because he’s a rich white boy who thinks he’s entitled to special treatment."

"Among other things," Benjamin agreed dryly. "We’ve formalized the charges, though, and the case is officially open. All that’s left is the court appearance,"

"Thank the lord," I grumbled, dragging my right hand down my face. It was about time. It felt like I’d been fighting a hundred years’ war.

"And what about Victoria?"