Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(37)

Mason turns back to the front of the elevator, his head falling forward as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Dear. God. What did Finn tell my boss about me?

“I take it you know each other?” he says, dropping his hand away.

“Um,” I say at the same time Finn says, “Ah.”

Freaking geniuses, that’s what we are.

The five levels we have to travel are the longest of my life. I should tell Mason we’ve known each other a few years, and that my cousin is married to his brother―something! But by now, it’s so obvious we’ve seen each other naked, it’s all I can do not to climb through the vent and make my escape.

The elevator dings open at the bottom and Mason steps out. “Goodbye,” he says, going toward the parking lot on the left, while I shoot to the right.

“Sol, wait,” Finn calls out.

Of course, I don’t. As soon as I’m through the double doors I take off in a sprint.

Finn, the MMA trained badass he is, keeps up in a steady jog. He doesn’t say anything, simply running beside me like he has all the time in the world. When it’s clear he’s not going to allow me to leave, I ground to a stop, whirling to face him.

“Did you tell Mason about us? About what happened Saturday night?”

He shoves his hands into his black biker jacket and glances around. “No?” he offers, like he’s not sure what the right answer is.

My stomach skitters down to cower behind my uterus. “Did you tell him what I did to you? About . . .” I can’t even get the words out. But as I catch Finn’s expression, and all the guilt marching across it, I know I don’t have to ask. Everything I wanted to know and didn’t want him to say is right there. I clench my fists, trying to beat back the sting his betrayal causes. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

I try to walk away, but Finn clasps my elbow, holding me in place. “Sol, wait. It’s not like that. I didn’t tell him it was you. I told him it was someone else.”

I glance at the way he’s holding me, as if what happened between us didn’t happen. But I know better, and because of it, what I have to say causes my voice to tremble. “But he knows it’s me,” I point out. “I can tell by the way he reacted.”

“Don’t you mean by the way we reacted?” His fingers slide down my arm to link with my hand, the motion so intimate, it’s more like he’s kissing me than simply stroking my skin.

“It’s hard not to react considering what happened.” I swallow hard. “I’m not exactly made of stone.”

He pulls me toward him, grasping my other hand. “I know you’re not, beautiful.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, averting my gaze.

“Why?” he murmurs. “It’s what you are.”

I lift my chin, wanting to wrench away and yell at him. After all, he deserves that and possibly a kick to the balls. Not only did he humiliate me in his home, but then he embarrassed me at work. But as my face meets his, I don’t see that idiot who told me to go home―the one who made me cry and who spilled the dirty details to my boss. I see Finn, his soft stare meeting mine and that gorgeous face that reveals both his hardness and his innocence.

This sucks. I’ve spent the last few days trying to convince myself he’s not who I need, and not worth my time. But now, the way he takes me in, I’m not so sure. Puppy dog eyes aside, I refuse to swoon. He owes me an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his tone something I feel down to my bones.

I bite my lip. Okay . . . he may have apologized, but it’s not enough. He owes me an explanation. “Why did you tell Mason about what happened between us?”

Finn tightens his jaw. When it becomes clear he isn’t going to answer, I pull away and start walking toward my car. He trails me behind me, matching my slow pace, but keeping quiet.

I unlock my car, sighing when he leans against the rear door and crosses his arms. “I wasn’t bragging,” he says, staring ahead and onto the main road. “Back there, when I told Mason what happened between us, I didn’t tell him what I did to make me look good.”

“All right,” I say, glancing his way. “Because you didn’t.”

He winces like I hurt him, but he’s not the only one in pain. “I really liked you,” I confess, my words heavy with emotion I wish I could hold back. “You didn’t have to treat me this way.”

He angles his chin to meet me square in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to treat you anyway but good,” he says.

“I wish I could believe you,” I respond, reaching for the car door. “But I can’t.”

“Wait,” he says. He mutters a curse, turning away from me briefly. “Look, what happened between us was messed up.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Not what you did,” he adds quickly. “And not how you did it.”

I almost expect that grin when I glance up at him, but it’s noticeably absent. Instead shadows darken his face as the sunlight creeps behind the distant buildings and the February chill gathers around us. “There’re lots of reasons I’m seeing Mason,” he says. “Like I’ve told you, I have a lot of rage―anger that sets me off that I can’t control. But I also have a lot of numbness . . . numbness I don’t feel around you.”