13. Finn
Finn was going to murder his friends—with his bare hands. Then hide their bodies in the forest.
He cut through the lodge at the Way Station, jaw set, his boots thudding on the floor. Families and other Conductors were milling about the large building. Each person parted like the Red Sea, as he looked for his “friends.”
Sabrina and Charlie weren’t at their houses, and their usual spot at the lake was quiet. They had to be at the main lodge.
The lodge was the lifeblood of the Way Station. From the moment you set foot in the lodge, warmth wrapped around you.
The air smelled like woodsmoke and fresh bread from the oven.
The space rose high overhead, beams of dark wood crisscrossing the ceiling.
Walls, carpets, and couches were bathed in golds, scarlets, and browns.
Rugs were layered over one another, and blankets draped over leather couches close to a fireplace.
Firelight caught on brass fixtures and well-polished banisters.
Laughter rose in waves across the open space and down the hallways to the mess hall.
At all times of the day, someone was moving through the mess hall with a tray of food.
It was where everyone came together, so much so that their weekly game night was held there every Friday.
It usually just turned into a poker night.
Everyone loved being there, which is why Finn usually stayed at his own place, the woods, or at the training center.
“Hi, General Vega!” a woman cooed, waving to him.
He did not wave back; he was on a mission.
Finn brought his Way Station communicator bracelet to his mouth and made a call.
“Whistler. It’s Vega. Give me the location of Captain Williams and Lieutenant Warren,” he growled, skipping the pleasantries. “Now.”
“Are they in trouble, sir?” Whistler stammered, finishing a bite with a loud crunch.
“You’re goin’ to be if you don’t give me their locations,” Finn threatened.
A typing response followed.
Finn shot around the corner, nearly clipping a chair, and muttered something not meant for Whistler’s young ears.
“They’re both in the library,” Whistler reported. “By the grand fireplace.”
Figures.
“Thanks.”
He tapped on his wrist and hung up the call.
The library was tucked just off the main corridor. The air smelled of cedar and old books. Dark wood ladders leaned against the ceiling and along the lengthwise shelves of books. A balcony wrapped around the room with lanterns hanging from hooks every couple of feet.
Sabrina and Charlie were tossing cherry sours into each other’s mouths, laughing at the ones they missed, and cheering when the other actually managed to catch one. Bright red candies polka-dotted the wooden floor.
Finn stopped a few feet in front of them, arms crossed, jaw clenched. They pretended not to notice him. He cleared his throat and placed his hands on his hips.
“What the hell was that?” Finn demanded of his only friends, enunciating every word.
Charlie barely glanced at him, catching another sour candy in his mouth. Sabrina cheered.
“What was what?” Charlie asked, looking at him from the corner of his eye.
“You followed me,” Finn snapped. “I told you to stay out of it.”
“Did he say that?” Sabrina asked, tapping her chin as if thinking. “I don’t remember him saying that.”
Finn ran a hand through his hair, pacing, his anger mixed with his nerves. “I swear, if either of you scared her off, I?—”
Sabrina cut him off, “Relax, Sunshine. I think she liked us. And I get it now—why you’ve been running all of those ‘supply runs.’” She made air quotes, brushing a stray blonde strand from her hair.
“We’ve never had so much flour in our lives. I’m never going to run out of things to bake,” Charlie teased, tossing another sour candy up. Finn caught it in the air.
“I don’t want to ruin this,” Finn confessed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve ruined so many things, and I don’t want her caught up in any of this.”
“Are you going to tell her?” Charlie asked, setting aside the bag of cherry candy.
“You can’t tell her.” Sabrina frowned, sitting up.
Finn glanced away and balled his hands up. A tight knot of conflicting emotions pulled at him.
“Someday. I don’t know. But I do know you guys might ruin it by being too nosy. I gotta get ready. Just—stay out of this for now, alright? I don’t need you messing this up. And Bug, really?” he said, giving a knowing look to Sabrina. “Boyfriend?”
Sabrina waved him off, picking up the discarded bag of candy. “We’ll behave. Promise.”
As if choreographed, they both placed their hands over their own hearts in synchronization, sealing their promise.
Finn shook his head and popped the candy in his mouth. “I seriously hate both of you,” he mumbled around the bite.
“Sure you do, Sunshine. But next time, invite us to the beach. We’re great at building sandcastles.” She winked, trying to lift Finn’s mood.
He rolled his eyes. He was doing that a lot around them lately. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Finn said, taking a step back, squishing one of their discarded pieces of candy.
With that, he turned around and headed down the hallway. Charlie and Sabrina’s cheers picked back up again, as well as the soft pitter-patter of candy falling to the ground.
The weight of the meeting with Henry ahead pressed back on his shoulders. Another meeting where he had to explain what a failure he was. “But don’t worry, boss. We’ll get them next time.”
His thoughts slammed on the brakes, flipped around, and found Lucie again. For the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to that wasn’t tied to the chaos around him.
When he saw her face light up at the flowers, he knew they’d been a good idea. And maybe the note hadn’t been too much. He didn’t trust himself not to overthink the note or say the wrong thing.
Abuela Hidalgo was beyond patient with him when he brought her the note. Maybe more patient than he deserved. But it had to be perfect for Lucie.
“You’re not going to mess this up,” Abuela Hidalgo told him at her cottage late last night.
“You’re just being careful with something you care about.
That’s different, my boy.” After they workshopped it for an hour, Abuela Hidalgo patted his head and said, “If she smiles when she reads it, you’ve done well. ”
Her smile was the one thing he was waiting for when she read it, and she did.
Her lips—he couldn’t stop thinking about her lips. He had been dreaming about her. How corny was that? Never in a million years would he tell anyone. Especially Chucky. Charlie would start making their wedding cake?—
Woah. Wedding?—
He ran his hands through his hair. He was freaking out.
He needed more sleep. The date would go well.
Everything was fine. Lucie was safe. She didn’t know about Legion or the Way Station.
All the Conductors were doing well in their training.
He was going to be okay. This was his first shot at real happiness, and he didn’t want to blow it.
The date on Sunday wasn’t just a date—it was a lifeline. And right now, he needed it more than anything.
The next three days would be packed with training, meetings, and a trip to Atlas, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything.
Three days. How was he ever supposed to survive three days without her?
How did anyone survive falling in love?