Chapter 4 #2
Finn had an ex. A long-term ex, which Teddy might not even have given a second thought to if Finn wasn’t tending to something secretive today that couldn’t be anything good or it wouldn’t have been accompanied by sympathetic looks.
“Mrrow?” Smudge voiced something akin to a real meow for once.
Teddy looked down his body to watch the cat curiously approach and proceed to walk right onto his chest to sit on his sternum.
“Do you mind?”
A more plaintive squeak replied.
“I’m fine. Just thinking.”
Smudge flicked his tail.
“I’m not fixating. If Finn does have unfinished business with his ex, that’s none of my business. Rose said he wanted to be alone today, so it might not even be that.”
It could be worse.
Maybe Teddy should cancel their date tomorrow. He was supposed to be easing into retirement, not stressing over a man he probably shouldn’t even be pursuing.
He’d really liked that kiss, though, and it had been so chaste, so promising of what a deeper kiss might feel like.
Teddy’s phone rang on the coffee table, and Smudge dutifully chirped at him, trotting off his chest but staying close so Teddy could pet him before answering the call.
“Hello?”
“You get laid yet?”
Rick.
After extracting himself from the floor, Teddy headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water—and to give Smudge, following at his heels, some treats. “Any groans you hear are only my old bones creaking.”
“Come on, Erina told me about the pretty thing next door who helps with your stretches.”
Teddy winced at the innuendo, much as he’d been fantasizing about that. “She would have just landed.”
“Pfft, told me over Facebook while she was still on the plane.”
“She—”
“Messenger, privately, relax.”
One thing Teddy could count on about his sister and best friend was that they had perfected the art of teaming up against him.
“Is that Teddy?” a distant voice asked—Rick’s husband, Dan. He came across louder as he stole the phone. “How are you? I made cupcakes. I should send you some for you and your friend. They’re gluten free!”
He always said that like it was a treat.
“I hate to break it to you, Daniel, but the local bakery may give you a run for your money.”
A gasp replied. “What a mean thing to say.”
Teddy smiled. Dan was so easy to tease. It made him miss his friends with a warm ache.
“If you’re going to cheat on my husband’s cupcakes,” Rick said, snatching the phone back, “at least get laid too.”
“Those things are usually mutually exclusive.”
“Not the way we do it.”
Dan laughed in the background and audibly smacked Rick’s shoulder.
“I’m taking things slow,” Teddy said, leaning over gingerly to drop Smudge’s treats to the floor without further aggravating his hip, then continued to the fridge to get his water pitcher.
“What the hell for?” Rick barked.
“There might be… unexpected baggage.”
“Besides yours?”
“Mine is expected.”
“So what? Unless it’s not just sex you’re after.”
Teddy paused to pour his water.
“Teddy,” Rick pressed. “You like this kid?”
“He’s not a kid. He’s—”
“Shit, that was fast.”
“I—”
“Good for you, pal. Even more reason not to waste time.”
“How you figure?”
“Not like we have much time at our age.”
Teddy would have scowled and told Rick to shove it if Dan’s muted voice hadn’t said, “You’re going to live forever, shush!”
They were disgustingly cute, and Teddy hated them a little for it.
“Age is why I have to move slow,” he said, “in more ways than one.”
“Hey, you left the city coz you didn’t want to sit around counting your shoulda, coulda, wouldas, scowling from the rafters of the theater like the freaking Phantom. Don’t start adding up regrets with a beach view. Your hip is an obstacle, not an excuse.”
The more serious tone Rick had taken on brought Teddy back to years’ worth of advice they’d given each other, which tended to amount to that same phrase, whether it was Teddy complaining about a difficult dance move or argumentative student, or Rick struggling with a scene from one of his plays.
Obstacles weren’t excuses, they were something to overcome.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am. You like this neighbor boy? You go get him.”
If only everything in Teddy’s life could be fixed that easily. “We have a date tomorrow. I promise, no matter how tempted I may be, I won’t cancel.”
“There ya go. And we want to hear all the sexy details after.”
Dan laughed again, then came across the line louder as he called, “Bye, Teddy! We miss you!”
“Send cupcakes and I’ll miss you a little more,” Teddy said, but he couldn’t be upset over their meddling any more than he was upset about Erina’s.
A quiet night would have been nice if he wasn’t itching to call Finn, while knowing how desperate and ridiculous that was. Finn was busy, unavailable, even if Teddy didn’t know why.
The sun had long since set, and he was debating going outside to read on his cushy new beach chair when he saw a figure running near the water just down from his house.
Teddy didn’t need stupid teenagers or some cat burglar upsetting his night. Only most burglars didn’t have fluffy white shadows following them.
It was Nora, which meant the tall figure in the dark had to be Finn. What on earth was he doing?
Opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the patio, Teddy struggled to get a better look at his neighbor, who was seemingly running back and forth along the beach—at night, in the dark, playing with his dog.
Teddy could only stand there staring, until Smudge snapped him to attention by rubbing against his legs. He hadn’t let Smudge outside before, but judging by the way the cat walked to the edge of the patio, tested his paw on the sand, and recoiled, Teddy wasn’t worried about him wandering off.
“Teddy!” Finn noticed him, running full tilt out of the shadows, huffing and awkward-looking until he stumbled into the light.
He was drunk, so obviously so that his shirt was misbuttoned, like he hadn’t been wearing one until he decided on his evening beach frolic and threw it on with jittery fingers.
“You look about three sheets gone,” Teddy said, stepping off the patio next to his chair.
“Yep!” Finn called cheerily, laughing as he flailed with imbalance and toppled over onto the sand.
Mrs. Thompkins was sure to yell at them in her dressing gown if he wasn’t careful.
Reaching out to help Finn up, Teddy feared Finn would yank him down into the sand with him when he grasped his hand. Thankfully, even sloshed, Finn thought better of that and tugged only gently. Teddy sat on the end of his chair instead and left Finn where he was.
“You live in a beach house and won’t even step on the sand?” Finn slurred.
“I’m stepping on it.” Teddy wiggled his feet, which were in slippers now. “Dry sand on skin is the worst feeling in the world.”
“You live at the beach!” Finn cried again.
“Because I like the solitude and the view.”
“Yeah?” Finn said slower, leaning back on his hands to better display his own view, teasing a bit of abs with how his shirt hitched from being buttoned wrong.
“You’re more lit than one of your bonfires,” Teddy joked. “And here I was thinking whatever you had to do today was somber. Clearly, you’re celebrating.”
Finn snorted a sloppy laugh just as Nora bounded over to him. She noticed Smudge on the patio and tried to get him to play, but Smudge batted at her to go away.
“If the anniversary of my parents’ deaths is worth celebrating, then yes, I am!” Finn chortled, only for his expression to drop like the pit in Teddy’s stomach.
“What?”
“That’s not funny.” Finn shook his head at himself.
“Anniversary?”
“Mm-hm.” Lounging there in the sand, Finn stretched out his long legs. “Same day, too, just not the same day.”
Teddy blinked, unsure how to steer the conversation when Finn wasn’t in his right mind. “I’m not following. I know you said they passed.”
“Car accident when I was ten. I was at Rose’s, playing. Mom died. Dad didn’t. Not right away.” He looked off toward his house rather than at Teddy.
Finn had gone on that day in the grocery store, saying he was fine with the loss of his parents, past it, but this version of him tempered how dauntless he usually acted, younger with the rosy glow in his cheeks, and far more honest.
Now Teddy understood why that girl’s car accident had made him sound so stilted.
“He held on for six years but wasn’t ever the same. Head trauma, blind, in a wheelchair. Sometimes he forgot things too. You could have an afternoon with him, talk, be there for him, but it was harder than he’d admit.
“When he died, Rose’s dad told me it was a dosage error.
” Finn grimaced at the words. “Said Dad got the wrong amount of medication that day. But it was the same day, the day of the accident, the anniversary, like today. I know it wasn’t a mistake.
” He scrubbed across his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Fuck. It’s been over a decade, and I’m still a fucking mess. ”
Teddy was close enough to reach for Finn, but a hand on his shoulder seemed too minimal. “Here I was concerned you were perfect. You never let on to any of this.”
“I can’t.” Finn turned to him with rawness Teddy was certain he wouldn’t allow if he was sober. “I can’t. I have too many people counting on me.”
“You don’t have to put on a smile for me,” Teddy said.
“Yes, I do. It’s my job.” Finn’s pout, exaggerated and ridiculous though it may be, made Teddy smile.
“Not here.”
With the light from Teddy’s house spotlighting Finn and the dark water behind him, his eyes looked especially teal, maybe because they were damp and hazy from alcohol, but still, they drew Teddy in.
Nora tackled Finn with a flourish of sand, knocking him over and licking his face. Finn giggled as he accepted the haphazard affection.
Noticing the commotion, Smudge hopped from the patio onto the chair and came up beside Teddy with a buck of his head into Teddy’s arm. He petted Smudge in one long stroke.