CHAPTER 15
Our deepest fears have the power to expose us in ways our words do not.
I motion to the bathroom, or more accurately, to the pill bottle he left on the counter in the bathroom. “You’re not going to take one, are you? Even if I ask you to?”
His silence is his answer as he strides to the couch and grabs his cut.
He slides his colors on smoothly like it’s second nature.
And I hate to admit it, but the vest looks sinfully delicious on him.
It adds to that bad boy factor, hitting buttons I never thought he could tap into, the ones that bring dirty daydreams to mind and make me want to spend the night inhaling him like a four-course meal.
This new Finn is harmful to my poor heart, though.
“Will it help?” My mask slips, just for a second. I don’t know his whole story or why he’s refusing the pills. Even if I deny it to myself, try and fail to remain angry, I do care. The truth is, I don’t want to see him suffer.
“For a while.”
“Then why not take them?”
He reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a set of keys. His gaze draws up to meet mine. It’s intense and earnest, but his jaw muscle pops as if my questions agitate him.
He sighs and grabs the back of his neck, massaging the base as if trying to relieve some tension.
“Because I don’t know what they’ll fuck with.
My head, my sleep, my mood, my blood pressure, my heart.
” He pauses, considering me, and his arm drops.
“And there’s the fact that my body figures out pretty quickly now that there’s this easy magic trick to switch off the pain, so my brain shouts for another pill and another, because what the fuck if it’s just one more little pill, right?
It’s a slippery slope, one I’ve battled my way up a few times too many. ”
Lord. This man.
This is the brutal honesty I remember. The vulnerability Finn never shied from, as if he’d written the chapters himself into the meaning of an “open book”—always delivering raw, honest truths when pried for personal details. He’s a guy who never saw the point in white lies or omissions.
“Have you had them long? The migraines?”
He nods. “Too long. And believe me, no one wants them gone more than I do. But a little pill isn’t the answer.”
“Then what is?”
He mutters, “Breadcrumbs, puzzle pieces, and feathers.”
I look up at him with a bewildered expression. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not to you, but it does to me.”
At my intense stare, he says, “No offense, but that’s shit I’m not comfortable handing out like candy. It means a great deal to me, and though I like you, we just don’t know each other that well, yet.” His forced smile is just that: forced. Half-smile, half-grimace.
We’ve been apart for years. There’s a minefield filled with all the things we don’t know about each other and what happened in our lives in the time in between.
“Is there maybe another option, like surgery?”
“Already been through the wringer on that front. Did more damage than good, and this is the aftermath.” He motions to his head.
When I take my next step, I stumble. Finn immediately grabs my arm to steady me. Heat rushes up my chest and neck. I’m goddamn deadly in heels, have been for years. I can’t remember the last time I tripped over my own feet. That I did it in front of him—of all people—makes me feel like a fool.
“What? Like, for real?” I ask.
He nods sadly and knowingly. It’s almost as if he’s had this same conversation with everyone he’s ever known and is sick of slicing himself open for show and tell.
Motioning forward with his hand, he says, “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.” I move to walk ahead of him. When I do, his hand comes to the center of my back.
It’s a simple touch, yet I feel a profound ache for it to be more. I hate myself for it, too.
“Was this… you know, from your last tour?”
“Yeah.”
It’s all he gives as he follows me to the back door. He locks up before we continue through the lot.
I fucked up by not looking at his file. Now I desperately want to know what happened on that tour.
What he’s been through since. The ache to help in some way builds, battling against the fortified wall I’ve been shielding my feelings behind.
It was stupid of me to walk into this blindly, with nothing but assumptions.
I make a mental note to do some research when I get back to my hotel and look into what else might help. Maybe there are some natural remedies he hasn’t tried.
As we make our way across the parking lot, I take extra care to walk steadily because the pavement isn’t the greatest, and the last thing I need is to get my heel caught in one of the cracks.
He asks, “Where are you parked?”
I point to the right. “Just there.” He scans the lot. More than one car remains, so I clarify, “The blue Dull Dory over there.” I point it out and hear his barely audible chuckle.
“Dull Dory?”
“Yeah, it’s like a reminder that if I just keep dancing instead of swimming, I can trade it in for something nicer. And also because that movie fucking rocks.”
“What movie would that be?”
“Surely you’re kidding?”
He shakes his head slowly, as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming? Clown Fish?” He shakes his head. “The ocean? Sharks? One little fish’s journey to find his way home?”
The corner of his mouth lifts at this, and he gives a subtle shake of his head. “No, I don’t think I’ve seen it.”
“Nemo?”
When he continues to say no, I stare at him like he’s an alien. “You’re not serious?” It’s half a question, half a joke. “God, that’s a tragedy.”
“That good, huh?”
“ Finding Nemo . Watch it.” I point at him. “And that’s not a recommendation.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He does a half-assed salute.
I want to go on and on about why it’s an epic tale, but I’m sure he’d look at me like I’m a loon.
It’s one of my all-time favorites. I love that it’s not about romance.
It’s not about a girl pining for some guy.
It’s about finding the person and place that represents home for that damn cute little fish.
He’s quiet for only a moment before muttering, “If I had to count, I’d say I’ve probably seen less than a handful of those kinds of films.”
“What? No Way.”
He nods.
“That’s like un-American.”
He chuckles at this. “We had one TV, and usually my dad commandeered it. He always had it turned to an action movie or true crime. If not that, then a ball game. He also loved old reruns of M*A*S*H . If I wanted to watch anything, I had to wake up early on the weekends to get the TV to myself.”
We’ve moved closer to one another without realizing it, and our arms brush. His gaze meets mine when they do, and we share a moment. One, I’m quick to shut down.
We’re nearly past the large dumpster, and a small scream escapes me when a black shadow darts out. I jump back, clutching my chest. Finn is in front of me before I can blink.
I peek from behind him to see the shadow, a small black cat with light eyes. It stands on the dumpster lid, meeting Finn’s gaze head-on. It hisses at him. I clutch the back of his cut and try to pull him back.
The next hiss is followed by a growled warning.
The sound has chills spreading down my arms. Memories from the year I lived with my grandma flood into my mind.
The junk, the smell, and how she not only allowed those mini-devils to treat her home like a litter box and cat motel, but how some of the more diabolical ones would attack even when not provoked.
It comes back to me like it was yesterday.
Yes, her home was a safer place for me than my own home once my stepfather moved in, but it left me with a lifelong fear of cats.
Finn coos at the thing and reaches out to pet it, even though it looks feral.
I screech, “Don’t touch it!”
He arches an eyebrow at me over his shoulder.
“It’s just a cat.” He says it as if I’m crazy.
Like he’s simply dealing with a cute, cuddly pet.
Rabbits are cute. Cats are not. They’re little schemers.
It’s a universal truth that even cat owners can’t deny.
They love that they’re unpredictable and independent.
Finn isn’t successful. In exchange for his kind treatment, he curses and recoils when it nearly bites him. But instead of being reasonable, he rationalizes the beast’s behavior. “Damn, guess she must have some babies nearby.”
I nearly roll my eyes at this, but ask, “How do you know?”
He tilts his head and crouches a bit, as if inspecting her. “Her belly.”
I’m tempted to check for myself, but the thought of getting any closer sends a shudder rolling through me. “I’ll take your word for it.”
He rises and turns, giving me a perplexed look again. I thread my arm through his and guide him to keep walking, using him as a shield until we’re a safe distance away.
He studies my expression. “Not a cat person, I take it?” The corner of his mouth pulls to the side. It’s not a full smile, but still, it draws my focus to his kissable lips outlined by his trimmed goatee. His sharp jawline is highlighted by contrast alone.
Really, he’s aged beautifully—I can’t deny it—but my attraction to him goes deeper than his looks, and it always has. His quiet, calm demeanor is a balm, his strength a comfort, and his nature to protect an enticing lure to a girl who has spent her entire life looking over her shoulder.
I scold myself for letting these thoughts take up residence in my mind.
This is precisely why being this close to him is dangerous. His ability to sneak so easily into my heart goes unnoticed until it’s too late. He just slips right the fuck in and makes me feel things I shouldn’t.
I let go of his arm as we get to my car. “Thanks for walking me out. I appreciate it.”
I don’t realize Finn’s stopped until I turn around. His eyes are closed. His hand is pressed to his head. My worry for him returns.
“Hey, are you all right?”