Chapter 21: Finn and mafia

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Finn is part of the mafia

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Finn is part of the mafia.

Finn is part of a mafia and I'm making him soup.

Someone should lock me up for extreme naivety. What am I even doing?

I obviously have no self-preservation. By now I should've moved and changed my name so he wouldn't find me.

After all, I've read all those books where just the word mafia follows death itself.

And yet I'm standing in Finn's apartment bringing him soup.

I definitely need medical help because I think I've lost my mind.

"Can you sit down for a bit?" I knew that every movement hurt him, but he couldn't eat lying down.

In obvious pain, he raised his arms a little and leaned against the bed frame. He tried to hide the fact that he was in pain, but he couldn't do it very well. He wouldn't be a great actor.

I slowly sat down next to him and scooped up the soup on a spoon.

"What are you doing?" He frowned. "I can feed myself."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Then help yourself." I handed him the hot soup, and only at the first touch of his hand with the plate did he curse loudly.

"Shit!" He quickly pulled his hand away. "Lexi, that's boiling, put it down."

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt." That's a lie, but I can't exactly tell him that even though it hurts, it feels good. He'd think I was crazy.

"I don't care what you say, it's hot as hell." He reached for the plate, which he almost spilled before placing it on the bedside table next to the bed. He then grabbed my hands, or rather my palms, and gave me a disapproving look. "Hands under cold water, now." It was an order that sent chills all over my body.

I would obey him, but I didn't want him to let go of my hands. His touch evoked something in me that I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Lexi, please." His gaze softened.

I tried to avoid eye contact before getting off his bed and heading to the bathroom. I left my hands under the stream of water for a while and returned to him.

When I was in the door, I found Finn trying to eat, but his hand was shaking too much, so almost everything always ended up back on the plate.

"Do you want some help?"

"I don't want to be fed."

"Then you shouldn't have gotten yourself into the state you are in," I said harshly and walked over to him. I took the spoon from his hand, and when I wanted to pick up the plate again, he said my name warningly.

I rolled my eyes and ran to the kitchen to get a towel. I then put it on my hand and took a plate into it.

Since Finn didn't say anything, he's okay with that.

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