Jacqueline || BWWM

Chapter Thirty One

The drive to the McCains house is usually a short one that only takes about ten minutes at most, yet today it felt like it took centuries before I finally saw the greenhouse. Another decade passes as Finn struggles to find a parking spot. The usually empty driveway is full with three vehicles taking up every inch of it. The street has five cars parked along one side of it and another three on the other side.

Finn, having no other choice, backs into the twin's driveway while arching a thick brown eyebrow at me."I thought you said the group would be small?" He mumbles quietly, taking in the amazing sight of all the cars.

I thought that too.

Jaylin's Friday get together's are typically small—five girls at most—what changed? I'm running through every possibility when Finn jerks the car to a complete stop. The bad news is that the unexpected force launches me forward and into the dashboard—hello bloody nose—the good news is that the answer to my question becomes obvious. Robert and Beatrice have this dinner thing with their employees at their store in Spokane tonight. They won't be back until tomorrow afternoon.

"La dracu."

Bad news number two is that Finn is once again speaking a different language. I'm far from being considered a genius, but I'm going to claim that he only does that when he's mad or feeling some type of emotion he would rather not feel.

Good going.

I didn't choose to purposefully bang my head, you know.

Same difference. The guy is mad and it's your fault.

Finn's cool fingers lightly lift my head off the dashboard, and I groan. Not because I'm not really hurt in any way, but because I'm unconsciously allowing my mind to believe Jax's words. It also doesn't help that blood is dripping from my nose and all over my lap, some even lands on Finn's car. I try to minimize the mess by covering my nose with my hand—disgusting I'm aware.

Bleeding. Embarrassed. Ruined.

Good luck getting him to ask you out for a second date.

Shocking as it might seem, Finn doesn't bat an eyelash at the blood leaking onto his clean black carpet. He just lets go of my face for a minute, grabs a couple of tissues from the glove department, and hands them to me. Tipping my head forward hurriedly, I force the paper over my nose.

How much worse can this day possibly get?

"It's not that bad," Finn whispers quietly, making me realize I said my thought out loud.

I title my head up and slightly to the side to meet Finn's beautiful eyes. Right now they shine a mythical light green filled with covered up sadness, with worry as the front. He tries hard to keep only those two emotions but between blinks he lets his guard down and a new one—anger mostly—flickers by.

"Yeah. You make it not that bad."

"You sure about that?" He leans back in his seat, and runs his pale hands down his face, quietly mumbling, "Because I'm pretty sure you're bleeding because of my stupid choice."

Once positive that my nose is satisfied, I pull the bloody tissue from the face and drop it into the garbage bag. Finn hands me a wipe and holds up a little mirror—his car doesn't have one of those sun protectors so no built-in mirror for him.

"It wasn't your fault. I get nose bleeds easily." He doesn't look convinced. It's like he's hell bent on making everything that goes wrong today his fault. "I wasn't wearing a seatbelt, Finn. That's on me."

"Ok."

I know he doesn't believe me. It's written in the quick, emotionless way he replies to my statement. It's in the slow movements he takes to open the car. On a good day, Finn typically does everything with a fast swiftness. It thrills him to know he got the most out of his day.