Chapter 22
Finn
My lungs are full of razors.
I’m sitting on the bench, head in my hands, trying to breathe without my chest collapsing. Every muscle screams, each joint aches. I pushed myself until the world went fuzzy at the edges, chasing an exhaustion that might finally shut my head up.
It didn’t work.
I don’t even remember the match. Only that we won.
The changing room is a riot of steam, sweat, and twenty competing body sprays.
Boots clatter on the wet tiles. Shouts echo.
Connor Duff is singing something off-key about a girl from Dundee, and someone’s laughing.
I can’t even tell who. It’s a wall of sound that I can’t seem to get through.
I peel the strapping from my ankle. It comes away with a rip, taking a layer of hair with it. Good, pain I can understand.
I’m still not completely sure about Marseille. But I’ll probably do it. Theo and Charlie are right – it’s a fantastic opportunity.
That also happens to tear my fucking heart out.
Scottie catches my eye from across the room. He frowns a little. ‘You awright, pal? Been wrestling a fucking bear, have you?’
‘Just knackered.’ I shove my kit into my bag with clumsy movements.
The sounds in the room swell, pressing in on me. The clank of metal, the hiss of the showers, the endless chatter.
It’s too much.
Theo didn’t fight for me after the meeting yesterday. She didn’t even hesitate. She laid out the red carpet and pointed me towards the door. ‘A fantastic opportunity,’ she said. For me. For the agency. Not for us.
Fair enough, though, because there was never an us. Not for real. Or maybe there was, but it wasn’t enough to win against timing and ambition and fear.
If I were cynical, I’d say I was a project, a stray she fixed up and sent on his way with a pat on the head and a new, shinier collar.
But I don’t think she meant it like that.
Theo’s building an empire with Charlie. She deserves someone who doesn’t need to be saved.
Someone who’s ready. I’d only get my mess all over her life.
And I’m starting to understand that loving someone doesn’t mean you get to keep them, no matter how much it hurts.
‘You coming to the Sin & Tonic for a burger?’ Scottie asks as he pulls on a clean T-shirt.
I shake my head, gaze fixed on the floor. The tiles are a grimy black-and-white pattern. I need to get out. I want to be alone.
‘Naw, got stuff to do.’ I stand too fast and the room warps. I grab the edge of the locker to keep from falling.
‘Finn?’ Brodie sounds seriously worried.
I can’t answer. I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk out, leaving the heat and the noise behind me. But the heartache follows me out.
As soon as I get home, I collapse onto my bed. My entire body still aches. Not the good ache from a tough training session, but the hurt that comes from pushing too hard to outrun your own thoughts.
I’m doom-scrolling like a twat. Instagram, TikTok, the club’s official page.
Pictures of me smiling in a kit I won’t wear for much longer.
I’m becoming a ghost in my own life. My brain fills the space with Theo’s voice, the final slide of the lift doors, and the thud of my heart trying not to crumble.
I almost jump up when my phone buzzes in my hand. The screen lights up with an unknown name.
Millie.
Who the fuck is Millie?
The name rings no bells. Don’t even remember saving that contact. My thumb hovers over the decline button. But the silence in the room is stronger than my desire to be left alone, so I swipe to answer and press the phone to my ear.
‘Hello?’ I sound appropriately gruff and suspicious.
‘Finn?’ The voice is plummy enough to own a pony.
‘Depends on who’s asking.’
A light laugh. ‘It’s Millie. Or Camilla. Camilla Elphinstone.’
I rack my brain. Nothing. ‘Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong—’
‘The ski chalet? New Year’s? You, me, and Olivia?’ There’s amusement in her voice. ‘The champagne in places champagne shouldn’t go?’
Ah fuck. That night. The one that got splashed all over the internet and media.
‘I couldn’t uncork the Dom Pérignon and ended up spraying it across the bedroom.’
‘Right. Hi. Sorry, Camilla.’ I run a hand through my damp hair. ‘Took a moment.’
I like women as much as they like me, and I’m not an arsehole. But that week was one long, self-inflicted nosedive, and I’d rather forget the whole thing. Guess I’m probably not alone with that wish. And we both know that’s never gonna happen.
‘Everyone calls me Millie. Except my grandmother, who insists on Camilla.’
I don’t know what to say. The chalet feels like another life. Before Theo. When I was still that Finn – pain-drenched and drowning in distractions.
‘Listen,’ she continues, ‘I’m ringing because there’s something you have to hear. About the video.’
‘What about it?’
‘It was Kit. He filmed us. He’s the one who sold the video to that tabloid. The highest bidder, really.’
The words hit me like a tackle I didn’t see coming. Blood roar fills my ears. ‘What?’
‘I know, it’s absurd.’
‘Damn right,’ I say automatically. ‘Why the fuck would he do that?’
‘What is it always about? Money.’ Her voice is matter-of-fact. ‘My family hired a private investigator to follow the money and do a full background check. Turns out dear Kit is in a spot of bother.’
I push myself up, my back hitting the headboard with a dull thud. ‘What kind of bother?’
‘The usual kind for boys like him,’ she says, her tone breezy. ‘He’s in debt up to his eyeballs. Apparently, he’s developed a rather expensive coke habit, and owes some unsavoury characters a great deal of money.’
Kit. With his designer clothes and trust fund. And he’s broke?
I shoot to my feet and pace. ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Extremely. The PI found everything. Kit can’t access his trust until he’s twenty-seven, and Daddy cut him off. He’s strapped, so he’s been finding other ways to generate income to bridge the gap.’
The betrayal burns hot in my chest. Not just the filming – though that’s fucked up enough – but the calculated way he’d set it up. He invited me to the chalet knowing exactly how messed up I was and used it to set the trap.
‘That absolute fucking wanker,’ I spit.
‘Very,’ Millie agrees. ‘He’s been doing it for years, preying on friends and acquaintances. He’s well-connected, as you know. People pay to make things disappear. Or, if they can’t, he sells stuff to the press.’ There’s a hint of hardness to her conversational tone. ‘He thought we’d be easy marks.’
A cold, clean fury washes through me. ‘Unbelievable.’
‘I thought you’d want to know who you were dealing with.’
I drag a hand over my face. It was him. The guy who passed me the tequila, slapping me on the back.
I pace the length of my bedroom, rage building with each step. ‘I’m so sorry about the video, Millie. That you got caught up in all that.’
She laughs. ‘Please, don’t apologise. I had a fabulous night.’
‘But it’s different for women,’ I insist. ‘The slut-shaming, the judgement. It’s not okay.’
‘You’re right, it isn’t.’ The sound of her laugh bursts through, quick and bright in my ear.
‘But truth be told, my family hardly blinked. The Elphinstones have centuries of well-documented scandals under their belts. A bit of a romp in a ski lodge barely registers. My great-great-grandfather once rode a horse through the lobby of the Savoy Hotel – naked – and then shat in the corner. So did the horse. Nasty opium habit. Him, not the horse.’
A smile tugs at my lips, even with the anger simmering in my gut. ‘Seriously?’
‘Oh yes. And that’s one of the milder stories. My family was more concerned with finding the leak than our little bit of fun.’ She pauses. ‘How are you, though? Really?’
‘I’m…’ I start, then stop. What am I? Angry. Hurt. Dead inside. ‘I’m surviving.’
‘Your girlfriend seems lovely,’ Millie says. ‘I saw the photos. You look happy together.’
The mention of Theo rips open the wound I’ve been trying to cauterise. I don’t correct Millie. Can’t form the words to explain that Theo was never really mine, and it was all for show. That I fell for her anyway.
‘Aye. She’s… She’s something else. How’s Lord What’s-His-Face?’ I’m dying to change the subject. ‘He forgive you for that night?’
‘Ludo is in the past.’ She sighs wearily. ‘I left him and ended the engagement, actually.’
‘Och, shite, hen. I’m sorry.’ Am I supposed to apologise for possibly contributing to a breakup? Can’t hurt, I reckon.
‘Don’t be. He wasn’t even that upset about the sex, more about the video, which was part of the problem. He should have been with us that night instead of attending a board meeting in Luxembourg. I got a glimpse of my future and decided I’d rather not live like that.’
I sink back onto the bed. ‘Good for you.’
‘I should let you go. Just thought you should know about Kit. Papa’s lawyers are handling it discreetly, but if you want to pursue your own legal action…’
‘Thanks. I’ll think about it. Say hi to your stepsister for me.’
Millie lets out a warm laugh. ‘Oh, I will. She’s going to be so jealous that we talked. Take care, Finn. You’re a good one.’
The call ends, and I stare at my phone, emotions all over the shop. Relief that I know the truth. Rage at Kit’s betrayal. A strange gratitude toward Millie for reaching out.
And beneath it all, a bone-deep hurt whenever I think of Theo.
My hands are shaking. Fucking Kit. The piece of shit who poured drinks and laughed and filmed us without consent. Who sold me out for cash. He played us both. I can almost see his smug face. And fuck, I want to wipe that smirk off permanently.
But I’m not that man anymore.
And soon, I’ll be in Marseille. Hopefully far enough away from it all. Even though it fucking wrecks me.