6. Silas #2
Jack’s shoulders instantly lock and I watch his jaw tighten. The softness that normally sits on his features vanishes, and is replaced now by a defensive, hard-edged mask. He drops the cord onto the coffee table and looks up, his chin lifting in an aggressive notch.
“I wasn’t.” He says quietly, and I notice he isn’t meeting Finns gaze directly. Yeah, Dove, we know you’re lying.
“Don’t make a big deal about it Finn. And why the fuck are you here? You’re supposed to be on your holiday.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Jack,” Finn snaps, ignoring Jack, taking two sharp steps forward, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. Deck hangs back a fraction behind him, a dark, heavy shadow keeping watch, his eyes locked onto Jack with a quiet, devastating intensity.
“That is not a conference. That…“ he motions to Jacks face, “…that is a beating. You went back into the ring, didn’t you?”
I see Hale press himself further into the couch as Finn takes another angry step, “Careful, Finn,” I warn, my voice low and dangerous, taking a step further into the room.
But Jack cuts me off, his voice lashing out, sharp enough to draw blood.
“My life, Finn! Last time I checked, I don’t need your permission to do anything, let alone what I do with my own body!” Jack tries to get himself up from the couch, moving too fast, pulling a sharp wince that flashes across his face before he forces it down, as he glares at Finn.
“You think I wanted this?” He waves his hand over his body. “You think I went looking for it?”
Finn ignores him, his emotions now leading this conversation.
“You promised me you were done!” Finn yells back, stepping right up to Jack, despite Deck’s hand coming up to catch his shoulder. “You let yourself get torn apart because you couldn’t stay away from it! How stupid can you possibly be, Jack?”
“Shut up!” Jack snarls, the anger finally cracking open to expose the raw, bleeding nerve underneath. He points a shaking finger at Finn. “You don’t get to judge me! You flew back early like some self-righteous…”
“You’re my brother! Because you almost died, you fucking idiot!” Finn’s voice cracks, the anger abruptly giving way to a terrifying, desperate panic. “If those people hadn’t found you, you’d be in a morgue right now! I am sick to death of watching you treat your life like it’s worth nothing!”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t that bad!” Jack roars at Finn.
Okay, I’ve had enough.
I step up to Hale, bending down, I grab his hand. He’s sitting there, eyes wide and tears streaming down his face, his head moving quickly between Jack and Finn.
“Haze, buddy, why don’t you head to your room. I’ll come up shortly.” I say to him quietly as I hand him his tablet. He sniffs and nods as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. He gets up, he looks at Jack once and then turns and leaves the room.
I stand and look at Jack, who is watching Hale disappear from the room, and I see the moment he realises what he has done, and I watch him collapse into tears as he watches Hale walk to his room.
* * *
Finn has moved to the window, his back rigid, shoulders locked tight. Every muscle in his frame is coiled, vibrating with a frustration that’s been building since the phone call.
Deck steps in behind him and wraps his arms around him, whispering low to him, settling him.
An uncomfortable silence descends over the room, and I don’t know what to do. I’m just about to go and comfort Jack when Finn speaks.
“You can’t keep doing this, Jack.” His voice gentle, but there is a hurt edge to it. It cuts like a knife through the gloom that has descended over the room.
He doesn’t turn around, just stands wrapped in Deck.
Finally, Finn steps away from Deck, turning to look at Jack. “Answer me,” Finn says, voice so soft I feel it like a physical punch to the throat. “And don’t you fucking lie to me, Jack. Are you fighting?” The question hitting the room like a gunshot.
There’s a shuffle on the couch; Jacks trying to get up, trying to stand to face Finn head-on even though his ribs are still taped and his breathing is still uneven.
My body moves before I can stop it, but one word stops me cold.
“Don’t.”
Jack’s voice is sharp, angry, cutting through the air like a blade, as his eyes lock on mine, furious and bright, and I take a step back, feeling it hit me low in the stomach.
He gives me a small smile, “I’m fine, I promise, Sol.”
He sucks in a breath, wincing as his ribs protest, and sighs as he stands, his eyes fixed to the floor. “Fine. I’ve been fighting.”
And there it is.
The words hang in the air like a crack splitting straight down the middle of the room.
Jack’s eyes lift, darting to mine for half a second, a flash of guilt and fear flit across his face, before snapping back to Finn.
Jack just answered every question, suspicion and fear that I had.
Finn goes still. He’s not the quiet, still, he’s quiet, like a predator locking in onto a movement. He sucks in a deep breath, his shoulders rising, then dropping slowly, forcing himself to remain calm.
Deck and I quickly look at each other, before Deck places a hand on Finns shoulder. Finn shrugs it off, his eyes flash with anger, but there’s a hint of hurt tangled with disbelief. “Where? How long?” he demands, his voice cracking like a whip. “Who are you fighting?”
Jack doesn’t look up. “Whoever’s waiting,” he says, eyes still on the floor in front of him.
The confession hangs between all of us, and it hurts, ugly and raw. My heart aches, slamming against my ribs, as I think of my dove fighting. The worst thing is, he did it without me knowing.
He lied to me.
But what he says next, just about sends me to the floor.
“Since we got to Campbell River,” he continues, his voice low and defeated now. “Years ago. Every damn week. In the alleys behind the docks, out past the logging roads.” He swallows hard. “I never stopped.”
The room seemed to shrink around me. I lean forward, my hands on my knees, trying to suck air into my lungs. My boy, still fighting. I can’t believe it.
Finn stares at him, the words refusing to make sense, his breath catching like he’s been punched.
“Years?” he whispers, disbelief cracking through the anger. “You’ve been… Why? Why would you do that to yourself?”
Jack let’s out a dark, humourless breath, more a broken sob than anything else. He looks up, eyes burning with that desperate, self-destructive fire that’s been simmering under his skin for years.
He takes a step towards Finn.
“Because I need to feel something, Finn!” He shouts, voice cracking, the confession tearing out of him jagged and raw.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like? To wake up every day and feel like a ghost? The only time my heart beats, the only time I’m real, is when someone is trying to put me through a wall. Pain is the only thing that cuts through the numbness.”
Finn moves on instinct, a step forward, his hand reaching out to grab Jack, to anchor him, to pull him back from the edge.
Jack flinched violently, jerking away as if Finns’ touch is fire. “Don’t.”
Finn tries again. “Jack, let me…”
“I said don’t touch me!” Jack snarls, his legs hitting the edge of the couch, leaving him nowhere left to run. His whole body shaking now, chest heaving, arms wrapped tight around his body as I watch the panic start to wash over him. I take a small step forward.
“You know I can’t stand it,” he chokes out. “You know why touch makes my skin crawl. It’s too soft, too fucking gentle, and I don’t deserve gentle.”
Finn freezes, his hand hovering uselessly in the air. “That’s not true. You don’t have to punish yourself like this.”