Out of Mind (7 page)

Finn shook it. “You too.”

“I will.” Riley turned to me and hesitated. “Carrie? Want to walk me out?”

I looked at Finn. “I should probably—”

“You should walk him out.” Finn let go of me and stepped back, running his hand over his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

I didn’t want to leave him, but I couldn’t refuse. That would be rude. “All right.”

Riley started for the door, and I fell in to step with him. As we turned the corner, I peeked over my shoulder. Finn stood exactly where I’d left him. All alone.

“He’s having a hard time,” Riley said under his breath. “Be patient. I had a buddy come back from Iraq like this. He was drinking. Having panic attacks. It lasted for a long time. If he’d had someone who loved him the way you love Finn, then maybe…” Riley shook himself. “Keep being loving and kind, like you’re doing. Don’t let your dad tell you Finn needs space. He doesn’t. He needs you.”

I blinked back tears. “Finn thinks I’m better off without him, though. He told me so.”

“Right now, he thinks it’s true. Men like him push away their loved ones. They think they’re failures and not good enough to be loved.” Riley opened the front door and grabbed his coat. I followed him outside, hugging myself. “He will keep pushing you away. Just keep pulling him closer.”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “I’m trying.”

When we reached the front of his car, Riley brushed a finger across my cheek. It came back wet. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying. “Keep trying. And if you need to vent, give me a call. I’m an excellent listener.”

I nodded and forced a smile. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

“I know,” he teased. “You’d be a fool to not take me up on that offer. I’m a catch.”

“Yeah, you are.” I laughed. “I should hook you up with someone from my dorm.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m not ready for love yet.”

“You still love your ex?”

He hesitated and avoided my eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Well, when you’re ready.”

“It’s a plan.” He opened his car door and started to get in. “Bye, Carrie.”

“Wait.” I stepped closer. “How long did it take your friend to get better?”

“He didn’t. He shot himself in the head a month and two days after he came back home. I found him that way.” Riley met my eyes. “Take care of him, Carrie. And watch him closely.”

I nodded and walked backward as I watched Riley get into the car, eager to get back to Finn. God, just the thought of him doing something like that…

I couldn’t even think it.

Ring, ring, ring
.

No matter how many times I called, the result hadn’t changed. Dad’s voicemail picked up, announcing joyfully that he couldn’t come to the phone right now. I sighed and hung up without leaving a message. I’d already left him one. The snow kept coming down heavier and heavier, and it would only get worse after sunset.

Hell, even Riley was leaving.

I walked to the window and peeked through it, watching them like a voyeur. Riley had pulled his car up when they’d been carrying the tree inside, so I could see them perfectly from where I stood. When Riley reached out and touched her face, I wanted to scream at him to back the fuck off my girl, but I didn’t. I just watched.

They looked good together.

Pushing away from the window, I straightened my spine and grabbed my pills off the table, staring down at the small orange bottle. It was time for another dose, judging from the pain ripping through me.

“You need help with that?” Carrie’s mom asked hesitantly.

I jumped, my heart racing. Would I ever stop panicking when someone walked up behind me? Or would I forever be the scared, pansy-ass, shell of a man I’d once been? “Yeah. I can’t open it, ma’am.”

She approached slowly, as if uncertain of her welcome. “I’ll open it for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, holding it out to her. “I appreciate that.”

Senator Wallington followed her into the room, his blue eyes locked on mine. As his wife opened my pain meds, he grabbed an unopened bottle of Aquafina off the bar. My half-eaten turkey sandwich was still there, too. “You’ll need this opened, too, I presume?”

I licked my parched lips. I’d rather have a stiff drink, but the water would look better in front of them. God knew I already looked bad enough. “Yes, please, sir.”

He twisted the lid off and handed it to me. “You doing all right? Mixing alcohol and pills is generally discouraged.”

“I’m fine.” In a half an hour or so, I’d be feeling even better. I set the water down. Next, I took the pill from Carrie’s mom and popped it in my mouth, watching him the whole time. “Sorry about earlier.”

“It’s all right.” He sat down and crossed an ankle over a knee. “What time is your father expected back? It’s getting nasty out there.”

“I’m not sure. I called him a few times, but he’s not answering.” I shifted on my feet, blinking when the room spun. Weird. I didn’t remember it doing that before. “I might have to go out and look for him. Maybe Carrie knows where he went.”

“Where who went?” Carrie asked, her voice tight. “Sit down, Finn. You look dizzy.”

I wasn’t dizzy. I was fucking high. But I sat down anyway. She came to my side and curled her hand with mine, holding on tight. She seemed freaked out by something. “My dad. It’s getting bad out there, and he isn’t answering his phone.”

“We can go look for him if you want,” she said quickly. “He went to Target.”

I nodded. “Let’s go. I’m worried he’ll—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Senator Wallington said, his eyes on Carrie. For a second, I’d thought he was talking to me. “We’ll send out security in an all-terrain vehicle. You’re not going out in this mess in your Volvo.”

“I’ll go,” I said.

“No, you won’t. If you go,
she’ll
go.” Senator Wallington arched a brow at me. “Do you really want her out in this?”

I looked out the window, squinting. It looked blurry. “I guess not…”

“That’s what I thought.” Senator Wallington smoothed his suit jacket. “I’ll send Cortez and another man.”

“Hugh, are you sure we should make them go out in this?” Carrie’s mom asked, her voice worried. “It’s getting pretty dark out there, and the roads are bound to be treacherous.”

“All the more reason that we need to find Larry,” Carrie said, her voice insistent. “I can do it. I’ll be—”

“
No
,” Senator Wallington snarled. “Absolutely not.”

“Hugh. We need to—”

“Someone needs to go,” Carrie insisted.

“Enough of this!” I shouted, heading for the door. I stumbled on my second step. “
You
can argue about who should go.
I’m
going before it’s too late to get out of here.”

Carrie rushed after me. “You can’t drive. You’re…you’re…” She paused, and I could see her arguing with herself how best to get me to listen. She should just say it.
You’re drunk. Say it, Carrie, say it
. “Your arm is in a sling, so you won’t be able to control the vehicle if it slips.”

She didn’t say it.

“I don’t care, Carrie. He’s my dad.” I yanked the door open. “I’m not losing him, too.”

“Not losing who?” Dad asked, blinking at me. He looked past me, no doubt seeing Carrie, Senator Wallington, and Mrs. Wallington all hovering in the doorway. “What did I miss?”

“You,” I snapped, curling my hand around the knob so tight it hurt. “What did you need that was so important you had to drive in the snow?”

“My medicine,” Dad said calmly. He held up a prescription bag and shook it under my nose. “I knew the weather was going to get worse, so I figured it was now or never. I chose now.”

“I don’t know what medicine was worth risking your life over.” I snatched the bag and struggled to pull out the orange pill bottle. I scanned the pill name before looking at Dad with a hollow pain in my chest. I recognized the name of the meds, damn it. “Why are you taking this? What aren’t you telling me?”

“My heart is acting up.” Dad took his medication back and dropped it into the bag. “It’s not a huge surprise. Your grandfather had issues, too.”

“Yeah. I remember.” I swallowed hard. It was all coming together now. “And he died of a heart attack. Did you have a heart attack? Is that why you didn’t come to California when the senator did?”

Dad flushed. “Yes.”

Anger rushed through me, red-hot and burning everything in its path. It collided with the ice-cold fear also coursing through my veins, creating a monstrous storm within me. “And you didn’t tell me because…?”

“Can I at least come inside before you ask me a million questions?” He huddled into his coat, his bright red cheeks looking chafed. “I’m freezing.”

I hadn’t even realized I still stood in the doorway with the door wide open, blocking his entry. I backed out of it and looked over my shoulder. Carrie’s parents were gone, but Carrie still stood there. She looked unsure of her welcome. I met her eyes. “Did you know about this?”

“I didn’t
know
, but I suspected.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t have confirmation. We were going to talk to him today, remember?”

I nodded once. “Yeah. I remember. You didn’t remind me, though, like you promised you would.”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Can we talk in my room, son?” Dad came inside and closed the door, looking at me with disappointment clear in his blue eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

“Of course.” I forgot all about being pissed he didn’t tell me about his illness. He looked even paler than he’d been, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was acting as if he was feeling much better than he actually was. You know, like
me
. “Let’s go. Did you eat dinner?”

“Of course I did.” Dad rolled his eyes and shuffled toward the stairs. He looked weaker than ever. Same gray hair. Same blue eyes. But so much fucking older. “I have a bad heart, not a bad stomach.”

I forced a laugh. “That’s true. You were never one to skip a meal.”

“And I never will,” he said, laughing along with me.

As soon as he turned around, the smile on my face disappeared. I stopped at Carrie’s side and leaned down until my mouth was a whisper away from her ear. “We’ll talk later.”

She caught my hand. “Take it easy on him. He’s worried about you.”

“And
I’m
worried about him.” I watched him climb the stairs, one slow step at a time. The pain pills finally kicked in, giving Dad a weird shimmery haze around him. Almost like an aura—or what I guessed an aura looked like. Fuck if I actually knew. “I just want to know all the details. Then I’ll let him sleep.”

“Okay.” She rose up on tiptoe and kissed me. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“The sun is finally shining,” she said softly.

I tensed. “Yeah, it is,” I managed to say through my swollen throat.

Not because it made me happy, but because it made
her
happy. Those words used to mean so much to me when she said that, but now it brought back memories of men dying. Of Dotter’s blood squirting all over my face and in my mouth. It meant something completely different to her—and it sucked that was the case now.

Fuck, I wished…

I wished we could go back.

We made it into his room, and I switched the light on. I hadn’t been in his room since we got here. I’d been so absorbed in what I’d been dealing with that I totally missed all the signs. That’s the kind of man I’d become. A whole shitload of orange pill bottles sat by his bed. I walked up to them and ran my fingers over the lineup. “You should have told me.”

“What good would it have done? When it’s our time to die, it’s our time. There’s nothing you or anyone can do to stop it.”

I threw the covers back off his bed. “Lay down.”

“I will.” He scratched his head. His half-bald head. When had that happened? He’s always seemed so strong. Ageless. Now, as I thought it over, I realized he was over fifty. Too young to die, but old enough to be way too fucking close to it. “There’s nothing you can do to stop time from moving on. Nothing you can do to change the past.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah. No kidding. I learned that up close and personal. One might even say I had a front row seat.”

“I know, and I’m sorry you did.” He ran his hands over his hair. “I wish I could change that. Wish I could take it all away.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t change what already happened.”

I opened his dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. They were blue and had stripes on them. They’d been his present from me last year for Christmas. That seemed as if it was a lifetime ago, not only one year. It had been before I met Carrie. Before I learned what love really was. Before I’d watched my whole unit die and then lived to tell about it.

A hell of a lot could happen in a year.

“No, but we can change how it affects us.” Dad pulled his sweater over his head, and I handed him the pajama top. “You’re pushing her away.”

“I know. I can’t help it.” I picked up the pants and held them out as Dad shrugged into his shirt. “I keep saying I’ll stop. Keep waking up with the best intentions. But then I fuck up and I still push her away.”

“You have to stop hurting her. Have you talked to her about it?”