Page 14 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
”Oh, sorry. Should have mentioned it. There’re only two beds, and Georgia’s is smaller. It’ll fit me, but definitely not you.”
Her bed probably won’t fit me either, but it’s a nice gesture, so I’m not going to bring that up. “Thanks.”
“Noproblem. I figure I’m massively inconveniencing you for at least a while, so I should make sure you can at least sleep.”
I don’t like that way of putting it at all. “You’re not an inconvenience, Cassidy.”
“Not sure what you call this if it’s not an inconvenience,” she says, watching the table instead of me.
“A favor,” I say firmly.
She blinks up at me. “You’re a nice guy, Finn.”
I bite my lip so I don’t say something. She has disturbingly low expectations.
Well. I can think of a few ways to fix that.
Chapter 9
Cassidy
When I wake up, it takes me a few moments to remember where I am, and another few to process why there’s sun streaming into my face.
I’m in Georgia’s room. And I didn’t bother to shut the curtain, too exhausted from everything else that happened, but I’m regretting it now. Georgia’s room faces east, unlike mine. The sun is brutal.
But, according to my phone, it’s almost eight-thirty. I blink, sure I’m reading it wrong, but no. Eight-thirty. I guess I got to sleep in after all, even if it’s two days later than I wanted.
I stretch, luxuriating in the moment. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel tired. I could get used to this.
And then there’s a crashing sound downstairs.
I’m up and out of bed in a flash, pulling my Pine Bluff U sweatshirt over my pajamas, and heading downstairs. If they broke into my house—
Finn is standing on the landing, looking forlornly at the broken vase. “Fuck this,” I hear him mutter, and then he sees me. His eyes widen. “Shit, Cassidy, I’m so sorry.”
I’m struck completely speechless by the scene in front of me. I don’t know if it’s G’s mom’s broken vase, or the fact that Finn looks like a kicked puppy, or the fact that he’s holding a mop.
“What happened?” I ask weakly, blinking in case this is still some weird dream I’m having.
“I saw your chore chart on the fridge—” The chart I’d designed when I was twenty, with no real idea how to take care of a home but knowing G deserved better than I was giving her, the one that’s still hanging even though I know it cold now— “and today is mopping, right?”
“It is,” I agree slowly. “But you don’t have to—”
“I’m staying here,” he interrupts. “That means I help.”
I huff, taking a step down the stairs. He holds up one of his huge hands to stop me. “You don’t have shoes on.”
Right, broken porcelain everywhere. “Finn, you’re doing me a favor, remember?” I ask, watching him safely from the top of the stairs. “You don’t have to do any chores here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s mopping day. So I’m going to mop this morning—right after I clean this up.” His wings flutter,bumping the wall, which I imagine is what got him into this position in the first place. “Sorry about your vase.”
“It’s fine. It was kind of ugly.” It’d been there since before I moved in, and I hadn’t known what to do with it. “What happened?”
He looks down like he’s embarrassed. “I bumped it with my wing. I’ll get a broom and dustpan—they’re in the bathroom closet, right?”
I nod, still speechless as he carefully steps over the shards of vase, his big strides easily allowing him to avoid the mess. He then makes his way up the stairs, wings tucked in tight despite there being nothing else to break. When he gets to me, I scramble back. “I’ll get dressed,” I mutter, realizing belatedly I’m wearing absolutely tiny shorts, and run into my bedroom.
It’s only after I slam the door that I realize my mistake. Finn slept in here last night.
