Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Finch
Knuckles rapped on the wall and Dove appeared in the doorway with a bottle of whisky in her grip. “Courtesy of Kirby.”
I dropped my head back into my hands. “Did she also say ‘I told you so’?”
Hawk appeared behind her, and they both let themselves into my office. “No, but she should have.”
Dove claimed the office chair beside me, and Hawk perched on a filing cabinet. I had a feeling this impromptu visit had nothing to do with their animals.
“If you came to gloat?—”
“Your sleep deprivation is making you paranoid. Have we ever gloated about stuff like this?” Hawk asked. “We came to bring you your favorite drink because we had a feeling you're avoiding the Salty Dog right now, specifically a certain chef that lives there.”
"Right."
It still stung to think of Frankie living over there. A tarp covering a hole above her bed was better than staying with me and I honestly didn’t blame her. I gave her no good reason to stay. In fact, I’d practically driven her away. I couldn’t give her a relationship, but I still wanted her in my bed, and until I could bear the thought of not kissing her every time I was near, I needed to stay far, far away. That last kiss we’d shared still echoed in my mind. The way we’d fused together as if we’d both known it would be our last. It ripped my heart in two walking away from her, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.
Dove grabbed three mugs from the dwindling supply shelf above my desk and poured us each a drink.
"How is she?" I asked to the room, knowing I sounded as pathetic as I was.
“Hannah’s down at the café now,” Hawk confessed. I looked at Dove, hoping she’d checked in on Frankie and had something to report. But what did I want her to say? That she was happy? That she missed me? I didn’t know which was worse. I’d barely left the vet hospital because I was such a fucking coward.
“Don’t look at me, I have no idea," Dove said, grimacing at a sip from her mug. "I was always bad at reading these things. It’s probably why I’ve bailed on the idea of a relationship altogether. I’m too neurospicy for dating.”
I chuckled. “You just need to find the right kind of neurosparkly person for you,” I countered. “Find someone where everything just clicks. Then it’ll all feel easy.”
Hawk raised his eyebrows at me, and I dropped my head back into my hands. “Yes, I can hear myself.” I groaned.
"Yeah . . .” Dove clinked her mug with Hawk’s and they both took long sips. “This”—she waved me up and down—“isn’t really selling me on the whole love thing.”
I peeked up at my siblings through my disheveled, greasy hair. “Did she tell you?"
Hawk cocked his head. “Which part?"
I eyed him, knowing he was gauging me, trying to get me to reveal more than I was willing.
Finally, I let out a frustrated sigh and said, “That it was all pretend." Dove threw her head back and cackled. Hawk immediately followed suit, spitting his drink back into his mug. " Why are you laughing?" I snapped.
“Other people I can’t read for shit, but you, big sis, I can read like an open book,” Dove said through deep belly laughs. She took off her wire-rimmed glasses and wiped her eyes.
“I really don’t get you,” I muttered.
“It so obviously wasn’t all pretend,” Hawk said. “I think everyone knew it except the two of you apparently.”
I wiped the sleepy grit from my eyes. "Yeah, well, she doesn’t want anything more from me now. She said being together was a mistake and she just wants to be friends.”
Dove snorted. "I thought you were supposed to be the smartest one of the Lachlan clan.”
My frown deepened. “What's that supposed to mean?"
“Uh, she's clearly in love with you,” Hawk said incredulously.
I blanched. "Did she tell you that?"
“Anyone with two eyes can see it from a mile away." Dove leaned in conspiratorially. "And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're in love with her too."
“I’m—”
"I swear to fucking God, Finch, if you say you're not, I'm going to put you in a chokehold until you admit it to yourself,” Hawk said in his aggressive, brotherly way.
"Someone needs to," Dove muttered, taking another sip of her drink.
"Can you two just go? Please?"
“Why can’t you two work it out?” Hawk pushed. "You can't just end things like this.”
There were times when having a big family was beneficial, but this wasn’t one of them. Each of my siblings felt like they could meddle in my life, and I was too exhausted to handle it anymore. “That's exactly what I'm going to do.”
"Why?" Dove said, exasperated as angry heat rose across her cheeks. She seemed more frustrated about this than even me. Curse my siblings and their misguided supportiveness. “Why can't you just be with her? You clearly want to be."
"That's rich coming from someone who's never been in love," I snapped.
"And maybe I never will be!" she shouted back, leaping from her seat and making the office chair skid backwards and bang into the wall. "But if I was , I wouldn't be such a coward that I'd let them get away instead of fighting for them.”
I curled my lip at her, and Hawk held up a “time-out” hand. "You're meant to be helping here," he said out of the corner of his mouth.
"Good cop, bad cop," Dove spat back.
"Aw, man," I grumbled. "You're trying to good cop, bad cop me?"
"We rock/paper/scissored for who had to come talk some sense into you."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered. "Here I was thinking you'd come out of the kindness of your own fucking hearts."
"The twins are useless at feelings," Dove said. "And Wren is too introverted. You would’ve been able to evade her prodding too easily. And Lark would totally be the one telling you off right now, except it's the middle of the night in New Zealand, so I'm filling in."
“So I’m stuck with Big Brother and hothead? Great,” I muttered.
"And Mom's afraid that any time she tries to talk to you about relationships, you just become more resolute never to have one," Hawk added.
I pursed my lips. He wasn’t wrong. “You know, I really love when you all talk about me behind my back.”
Hawk crossed his arms. “That surprises you?"
I huffed, not surprised in the least. I'd been involved in these splinter family groups my entire life. When Logan had left and we’d convinced Lark to go after him. When Hannah had left and we’d convinced Hawk to go after her. But Frankie was still here, and we'd never had a real relationship. All the feelings with no backbone, doomed before we could start because I refused to delude her and myself.
This thing between Frankie and me was different. I wasn't going to go after her because if I did, I would just trap her into another few months of sleeping together and nothing more—nothing real. Frankie had said that she regretted us sleeping together and that we’d be better as friends and then she’d kissed me, and I knew we were both utterly fucked. There were no big gestures to be had. The best thing I could do now was let her finish out this summer in peace.
"I appreciate the moral support," I said, standing and stretching my tired arms above my head. "Really. But this is different."
Hawk let out a long sigh. "Is it?"
"It is." I shot him a look, drinking the last of my mug and leaving it on a stack of half-filled-in paperwork. “I can’t be in a relationship with anyone right now, let alone someone as good as her.”
"Listen," Hawk said with a frustrated sigh. "I know how fucking scary it is to be in love with someone. I'd take getting dropped in the tiger enclosure before confessing my feelings any day, but if you don't tell her how you really feel and give this a real shot, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
"I need to feed Frankie," I said wearily.
"I can do it," Dove said. "I am the bird keeper, after all. I can be doing more than you’re letting me.”
"Nah, I've got it," I muttered. "Thanks for the pep talk, you two." I waved without looking and headed into the hall.
"Will you at least think about what we said?" Hawk called after me.
"I'll think about it," I called back.
"We love you, you stubborn asshat,” Dove sang.
"Love you annoying pieces of shit too," I said and wandered off down the hall.
I slipped into the first room and shut the door. Leaning against it, I let out a long sigh as I stared up at the ceiling. A little groaning squawk like a creaking door was let out to my left, the sweet sound so much smaller than the racket of an adult. I looked over to my left at Cranky’s incubator. It was the first time she’d made a sound in days.
I pushed off the door and got out her weighing bowl. I put it on the scale and tared it before plucking up my prickly pink friend and putting her in it.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I begged, watching the numbers dance across the screen.
Before they even stopped moving, I doubled over, a sob pulling from my lungs as tears streamed down my face.
Dove exploded into the room at the sound of my cries, followed closely by Hawk. “What is it? What happened?”
Dove started looking around the room like a snake might fall from the ceiling—which wouldn’t have been the first time.
“Is she okay?” Hawk asked, just as confused.
“She gained weight,” I croaked, a river of tears streaming down my face. “She’s doing better.”
Hawk looked at me, confused for a second, but Dove just launched herself at me and wrapped me in tight koala hug. The relief that this little bird might be okay was so huge that it swamped me with emotion. I’d hung on to her survival like a lifeline, and now that she was starting to grow, all of the things with Frankie came crashing down on me. It was like the dam had broken and every held back emotion came flooding out of me.
Hawk didn’t seem to instinctively understand like Dove did, but he wrapped his arms around both of us anyway. Emotions ran high when working with animals. It wouldn’t be the last time. But I knew they were holding me together in the comedown of the hollow life I had built and the life I now realized I wanted—if I was only brave enough to admit it.
I knew Cranky wasn’t out of the woods. Animals got better sometimes right before they died too, but I had this gut instinct that she was going to be okay. This was a positive turning point, an upswing. This little bird would make it. And whether I fed her every time or let my mom and Dove do it wouldn’t matter to her survival now. I knew then that this game of fate couldn’t be controlled by bearing witness to it. I couldn’t be here for every single moment forever.
I needed to let it go. Needed to live instead of hovering in this limbo. Needed to go tell Frankie everything that I’d been pushing down for so long now.
“Finch—” Heron’s voice was cut off as they walked into the room, Crane murmuring something beside them.
“Don’t just stand there, hug her!” Dove demanded.
And suddenly, there were more arms around me, keeping me together, and I was so fucking grateful for each and every one of them.