Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

“I want to.” Glancing at Finlay, I add, “You’re my girlfriend. Let me do this for you.”

Her lips curve up. “I didn’t think of that.”

“That you’re my girlfriend?” I ask, a frown forming on my forehead.

“Yeah.” Her dimples appear, happiness chasing the tired expression from her face. “My boyfriend.” She scrunches her nose. “I’ve never had one before.”

My jaw drops at her admission, and with raised eyebrows, I ask, “You’re kidding, right?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’ve dated, but it never lasted. This is officially my longest relationship.”

“Two weeks.” Holy fuck. “Wow.” A huge grin spreads over my face. “Now I really feel lucky.”

Finlay lets out a happy sigh, then says, “Dad prepared enough food to feed a small army.” Looking comfortable, she asks, “Want to come over and help me eat it all?”

I can’t stop my mouth from curving up. “Definitely. I just need to shower before coming over.”

“Okay.”

I park behind my place, and when we reach the beach, Finlay takes a right while I head up the stairs to my porch. The second I’m inside, I drop my keys on the kitchen table and run for the shower. I rush through my routine and grab the first pair of jeans I can get my hands on, along with a hoodie. Stepping into my shoes, I’m out of my place as fast as possible.

I slow down, catching my breath as I walk to Finlay’s house, feeling like one lucky bastard that I’m her first boyfriend.

My footsteps falter, and the smile drops from my face as a horrible thought crosses my mind.

God, was she a virgin?

My stomach revolts at the thought that the fucker who raped her was the first time she had sex.

Shaking my head hard, I take a couple of deep breaths, forcing my thundering heartbeat to slow down.

Calm down.

Only when I’m in control of my emotions and the dark thought tucked deep away do I take the stairs up to the porch.

I open the door, but I freeze when I see the expression on Finlay’s face. It looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I hurry inside.

Her eyes snap up, then back down to the phone before she throws the device onto the couch as if it burned her. “Ah…” She takes a step backward, and it has me freezing on the spot. “I… I…” She swallows hard, and I notice her hands trembling.

Worry burns through my veins, and I have to force myself to not close the distance between us. “Finlay?”

“I… I…” Her eyes dart wildly around the room. “Just miss my dad.”

She’s lying.

“If something happened, you can tell me.”

The panic on her face hits me square in the chest, and the weird apprehensive feeling returns to my gut.

God, something’s very wrong.

My heart squeezes at the sight of the wild look in her eyes.

Before I can ask if something triggered a panic attack, she shakes her head quickly, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. “It’s nothing.” Walking to the kitchen, she starts yanking containers out of the fridge. “I’ll warm the food. Come sit.”

When I take a seat at the kitchen table, she gives me a strained smile. “Sorry. I just really miss my dad. The first night’s always the hardest. Thanks for coming over.”

“Free food remember,” I tease her, hoping to make her feel better. “And I get to see you.”

My eyes don’t leave her as she darts around the kitchen, grabbing bowls, glasses, and cutlery. She warms the soup, placing bread rolls on the table. She’s doing everything possible to not meet my eyes.

“Did you hear from your dad?”

She nods. “Just before he boarded his flight.”

“How long’s the flight?” I ask, trying to keep her talking, hoping it will set her at ease.

“Fifteen hours.” She places a bowl of soup in front of me. “There’s an eight-hour time difference, so we miss each other a lot.”

I wait for Finlay to take a seat at the table across from me, then murmur, “Thanks for dinner.”

She gives me a shaky smile. Her eyes dart to mine, and her teeth tug at her bottom lip as if she wants to say something else.

Talk to me, baby.

Concern for her makes it impossible not to ask, “Are you okay staying alone here? I could take you to Quinn.”

I’d miss having her close to me, but whatever makes Finlay feel safe, I’ll do.

She shakes her head and hesitates before admitting, “I don’t feel comfortable living in your brother’s house. And they just got engaged.” Her tongue darts out in a nervous action, swiping over her bottom lip. “Besides, I’m not alone. You’re here.”

My lips curve up. “I am.”

God, I want to hug her so badly.

I just want to hold her until she feels better. Instead of giving in to my need, I clear my throat and dig into the soup.