Chapter 18 #2
When she finally looked up, her hand holding the letter falling to her side, there were two tears trekking down her face.
The sight of them unlocked something inside of him and freed the first sob from his throat.
In a flash, she’d taken the two steps separating them and slid her arms around him again, her cheek to his chest, his own arms circling around her shoulders.
Fin let go then, burying his face in her hair. Let the tears flow hard and the soft sobs fall unchecked as they shuddered through his chest. He’d yearned so badly for a do-over of that day, and the angst over it not being possible had been like a splinter under his skin.
But he’d found forgiveness in his father’s words. And comfort. They weren’t going to erase two years of guilt and shame in one fell swoop but it sure as fuck helped right now. His shoulders felt light. His heart felt freer.
Maybe him finding this letter had been what this trip had been all about? That feeling that had nagged and nagged at him about going home. Which had led to him reaching out to Sweeney about surprising their mothers.
And even though the surprise had been on them, Fin couldn’t help but feel this whole thing had been preordained. By the universe. Or maybe by his father up there somewhere, somehow.
Fin wasn’t sure how long they stood there, leaning into each other, grieving together. He was just aware that, at some point, his sobs had stopped and the tears had ceased. Sweeney must have realised, too, because she eased out of his arms, her eyes red-rimmed, her face blotchy, his t-shirt damp.
Her voice strong now, she asked, ‘What do you need?’
Not are you okay. Not a platitude. Not something about her. Just focused on him and his grief and his needs in her usual goal-orientated manner.
That’s what he needed.
‘I want to get out of here.’ He shoved a hand through his hair as he looked around the garage. ‘I need to kick a ball.’
Fin had always kicked a ball when he needed to quiet his brain.
Something about the rhythm of boot on leather distilled the noise down to one point of focus.
He didn’t really need that right now, but the activity had become his go-to for whenever things were on his mind.
It was probably just the exercise and the outdoors he was craving, given they’d barely been out of the house the entire two weeks they’d been here, but he wasn’t going to ignore it, either.
‘Back yard?’ she suggested, not even blinking at the request even though he knew kicking a ball back and forth wasn’t her favourite thing.
‘No.’ He shook his head. The back yard would be easier in many ways, but he was in full cabin fever mode and needed to get out. ‘The lake.’
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. ‘What if we’re seen?’
‘By the time we arrive, it’ll be half an hour off dark.
’ It was still ludicrous to him that they were having to consider this kind of shit.
Like they were some Hollywood A-listers.
But with the volcano still actively spewing ash, this was their life for the next couple of weeks.
‘Most people would have left by then. And it’s a big place. We can find a secluded spot.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘Let’s do it.’
*
Half an hour later they were at the lake, which Sweeney was relieved to find almost deserted.
They’d found a spot down on the narrow, gritty strip of sand the locals euphemistically called a beach.
It was wide enough to kick a ball back and forth and far enough away from the few remaining people for them to not be recognisable.
There were a couple of teenagers on the jetty who were closer, but given they were indulging in some heavy-duty making out, Sweeney figured they’d be paying zero attention to the arrival of Feeney.
The sun was on its way down, casting hues of orange, red and gold across the lake that rippled gently in a light breeze and kissed the shoreline with a quiet swish.
Cicada noise hung heavy in the cool, fresh air and, somewhere in the distance, every few minutes a riot of kookaburras heralded the coming of the night with a cacophony of laughter that grew more raucous as it multiplied, spreading from tree to tree to tree.
Like their silent drive to the lake, they didn’t speak as they kicked the ball back and forth. Sweeney knew that wasn’t the point. It was more a meditative thing. Like white noise where a person didn’t have to think.
Still, she made him work for it because she figured tonight of all nights he needed it. Pushing her sleeves up to her elbows, she kicked the ball slightly to his left. Fin stretched, throwing his leg out to stop the ball from flying past before sending it back and landing it at her feet.
They were both wearing jeans as the evenings were really starting to cool off now.
Fin had teamed his with an old Banshees jersey with short sleeves but she’d chosen to wear a long-sleeved t-shirt with a v-neck.
She’d worn a hoodie, too, but that had been abandoned now she was warmed up from the exercise.
She kicked the ball again and he blocked it with his feet. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he booted it back. ‘About the bawling like a baby thing.’
Sweeney glanced up from her feet, where the ball had once again landed.
Her brow furrowed as she examined him for a beat.
Is that what he’d been quietly contemplating as they’d played?
She’d seen him cry before, of course. A few times.
As a kid. And vice versa. Not as an adult, though, so perhaps he was feeling a little embarrassed now he’d recovered.
She placed her foot on top of the ball. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘What?’
‘Apologise for grieving your father.’
‘I don’t mean that, I mean for being so loud and it taking so long.’
Sweeney’s mouth flattened. Now she was cranky. ‘Don’t diminish it either. Your dad died. I’ve been there, it’s hard.’ She booted the ball his way, putting it straight at his feet this time because that’s how pissed off she was that he felt the need to apologise for being human.
‘Maybe that’s why I could do it? Let go like that? Because you’ve been through it too.’
‘Also, probably because—’ She bugged her eyes. ‘I’m just guessing here, you haven’t done that yet, have you? Cried. Properly. Because you’ve been feeling guilty over the argument.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re such a smarty pants.’
‘Fin, Fin, Fin.’ Sweeney tutted as she shook her head, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘You keep that shit in, you know what happens?’
‘Nope. But it’s bad, right?’
‘Duh.’ She rolled her eyes this time. ‘You bust a foo-foo valve.’
He whistled. ‘That sounds painful.’
‘And messy.’
‘And where is this foo-foo valve exactly?’
Sweeney shook her head. ‘Nobody knows. Until it goes kaboom!’
‘The only thing that went kaboom today,’ he said as he picked up the ball and absently shunted it between his hands, ‘was my dignity.’
‘Fin …’ Sweeney frowned, turning serious. ‘You think I think less of you because you cried?’
‘I think the gym bros and the crypto dudes would.’
‘Oh, puh-lease.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘One protein powder shortage or a market crash and it’ll be raining tears on TikTok.’
Fin barked out a laugh. ‘True.’
‘How many times did I cry on your shoulder when my dad died? Did you think less of me?’
‘You were twelve. I’m thirty-two.’
‘Newsflash, Fin, grief doesn’t give a shit how old you are. You cried. I saw you. Build a freaking bridge already.’ She huffed out an impatient breath. ‘Now, are you just going to keep caressing that ball like it’s your girlfriend or are you actually going to kick it?’
He laughed again at her juvenile smack talk, and Sweeney was relieved when he dropped the ball to the sand and kicked it along the ground. They passed it back and forth in silence until the sun had almost dipped below the horizon and Fin called an end to the game.
‘Last kick,’ he said, tipping his chin at the ball that he’d just, once again, put at her feet. ‘It’ll be night soon.’
Maybe, but they probably still had another ten to fifteen minutes of decent light before it leached away, and Sweeney knew he was only calling time because her passes were getting more and more lacklustre.
Fin needed this, though. To get away from the house, to get into the great outdoors and do some physical exercise that didn’t involve wrangling small children. So she could push through.
Sweeney flipped her ponytail back off her shoulder and cocked her hip. ‘Afraid of the dark, big boy?’
Maybe she shouldn’t have gone all big boy on him given those moments in the kitchen this morning—was it only this morning?—but she knew she had to goad him a little or Fin would insist on letting her off the hook.
‘It’s okay,’ he dismissed. ‘I can see you’re over it and I’m feeling much better now.’
Yup—letting her off the hook. Well, that wouldn’t do.
‘Who says?’ Sweeney dribbled the ball forward a little, moving in his direction. ‘Stop me if you can.’ He laughed but she ignored it. ‘You think I can’t run this ball past you?’
Bemused, he squatted like a goalie defending the net, shifting his centre from one foot to the next in a continuous weave. ‘One hundred per cent not.’
‘Ooh, cocky,’ she teased, as she inched forward toeing the ball. If it took a little sexual innuendo to keep him playing, she’d go there. ‘I like it.’
‘You think you can, huh?’
Glancing up from the ball, she shot him her best coquettish smile. ‘One hundred per cent.’ She feinted left but Fin had her measure, not falling for the ploy, just continuing to rock sideways from foot to foot.
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘You sure?’
Grinning, Sweeney quickly feinted right, but again he wasn’t fooled. Rising out of his squat, he shoved his hands on his hips. ‘What else you got?’ he challenged as she drew to within ten feet of him.
Sweeney’s gaze darted left and right, assessing her best strategic options, which were limited given the calibre of her skills.
And his. So, playing dirty it was. She didn’t think saying something like, Oh my god, there’s a giant octopus eating a boat, or something equally as outlandish, would work as well on this Fin as it had on eight-year-old Fin.
But the fact he wasn’t eight anymore, that he was all grown up, had its advantages because she was all grown up, too.
And grown-up Sweeney’s version of dirty was a whole new level.
Still pushing the ball slowly forward, she gave zero thought to the appropriateness of her next move.
She just knew it would work so she went for it.
Grabbing the hem of her shirt, she reefed it up to reveal her ice pink bra.