Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty Six
Finn
I walked straight to the training room. Empty, lights off, chairs stacked on the tables.
I tried Brody’s cell. Voicemail, again.
Me: Please. I need to see you.
No reply.
I decided to just go home.
I drove home slowly, windows down, the air cold enough to make my teeth hurt.
The city was the same, but the looks from people felt different.
At the first stoplight, a guy in a Stallions hoodie recognized me and grinned, thumbs up.
At the next, a woman in a minivan rolled her eyes and mouthed something I didn’t catch, but I got the gist.
It was all background noise, now.
I turned off my phone, sat on the edge of my bed, and stared at the splint on my wrist until the pain was the only thing left in the room.
***
It’s been one week since Brody told me that he needed space.
I found out from HR that Brody had taken a week-long vacation. It killed me to walk past his office and not find him there. I missed his face. His smile. Everything about him.
I told myself that I had given him space.
I needed to know, once and for all, whether we were ever going to get back together and make this work.
If he didn’t want me, it would kill me, but I would move on.
I would never force someone to be with me.
So, I grabbed my car keys, worked up the courage and strength to do what needed to be done, and then made my way to Brody’s apartment.
When I arrived, the hallway outside Brody’s apartment smelled like dust and distant pizza.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, heart double-timing in my chest, fist slick on the banister.
The heat was so thick you could drink it.
It clung to my skin and made my shirt damp before I hit the second landing.
I knocked twice, lightly. The door jerked open before I finished the second tap.
Jamie stood there, eyebrows up, hair in a crooked bun. She blocked the threshold for a second, then stepped aside. It made me like her even more. I was glad that Brody had someone so protective over him, even if they hated me right now.
“He’s in the living room,” she said, not quite a whisper, but close. “I’ll—” She jerked her thumb in the hallway. “I’ll give you guys a minute.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She nodded, lips pressed so tight they turned white, and closed the door behind me.
The apartment glowed under a single lamp, golden light pooling on the hardwood, leaving the corners black and soft. The air smelled like vanilla tea. Brody sat hunched on the end of the couch, knees to his chest, phone dark in his hand.
I hovered just inside the door, not sure if I was welcome. My shoes squeaked on the entry mat.
Brody finally said, “You came.” The surprise was clear in his tone.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Yeah. I came.”
He didn’t move. I saw then his eyes were swollen, the skin under them soft as a bruise. The hoodie he wore was zipped all the way up, even though it was eighty degrees inside. He gripped the phone like a lifeline.
I crossed the room and dropped my bag next to the couch. I sat, hands between my knees, body folding in on itself to match his. “I know you said you would reach out first, but I just need to know,” I said, not waiting any longer before getting straight to the point.
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew. Finally, he spoke. “I told you that if and when I decided to come out, it needed to be on my terms. You almost completely outed me to the world. You broke my trust,” he said, his voice breaking.
My heart shattered into a million pieces. He was right; I had betrayed his trust. It was wrong, and I knew that now. If he would allow me, though, I would spend the rest of my life making it up to him.
My throat burned. “If you want to quit, Brody, I get it.”
He finally looked up, face raw. “What if I do?”
I stared at my shoes. “Then you do. I won’t hate you for it.”
He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “God, I’m an asshole.”
“No, you’re not.”
He shook his head. “I wanted to be the guy who could handle it. I thought if I were with you, I’d just… be brave. But I’m not.” His voice cracked. “I’m so fucking scared, Finn.”
The words hurt more than anything Dylan ever said. More than the negative comments plastered on social media from the homophobic assholes.
I swallowed it down, leaned forward, elbows on my knees, close enough that our feet almost touched. “I’ll wait,” I said. “As long as you need. Even if it’s forever.”
His jaw clenched, working like he was chewing through a steel cable.
“You don’t have to fix it,” he said, voice barely a whisper.
“I know. But I want to. You don’t have to say anything to the world. All I’m asking is for you to be mine. We don’t have to do a press conference or tell anyone. This is about you and me.”
He laughed, for real this time. It came out wet and wild, half-sob and half-relief. He ran both hands through his hair, then let his head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.
“I love you,” I said.
He covered his face with both hands, then let them fall to his lap.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Koskinen.”
I stood. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”
He stood, slowly, then crossed the room to me. He didn’t touch me, but his arms hung at his sides, fingers twitching.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
“Then say so.”
He did. “Stay.”
I did.