Out of Mind (8 page)

I hesitated. “We haven’t really talked much at all.”

“Because you’re pushing her away.”

“Yes.” I crumpled his pants in my hand. “Sometimes I think she would be better off without me.”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t be. She’d live. She’d laugh. She’d smile. But she wouldn’t be better.”

Dad’s hands were shaking too badly for him to button the shirt himself, so I tossed his pants to the side and went to help him button his shirt…right until I realized I could barely manage to button my own damn shirt. So I just stood there, helplessly watching my father struggle to dress himself.

How the fuck had I missed this? How could I be so self-centered?

“You’re not self-centered. You’re recovering. There’s a difference.” Dad frowned at me. Those pain pills must’ve messed with my head. I hadn’t even meant to talk out loud. “But the kind of love that you two have doesn’t come around often. To waste it on pride and self-pity would be a crime.”

I swallowed hard. Damn it, he was right. I was being an idiot, but I already knew that. I just couldn’t
stop
. Too bad they didn’t make a pill for that. “I hate that she’s stuck with this. Stuck with me.”

“She’s not stuck with you; she chose you.” Dad caught my hand and squeezed it tight. “You can’t lose her, too. Don’t let that happen, because I guarantee you’ll regret it if you do.”

I met his eyes. “Are you saying I’m losing you?”

“I’m saying I’m old and sick.” Dad lifted a shoulder. “It’s not rocket science, son. Everyone dies. I’m not sad that my turn is coming. You shouldn’t be either.”

“I can’t lose you, Dad.”

“I’ll try my best to stay, but it’s not up to me.” Dad pointed up toward the ceiling. “It’s up to Him.”

At first I thought he meant Senator Wallington, whose bedroom suite was upstairs on the third floor, but then I realized he meant God. The same God I wasn’t even sure I believed in anymore. Why would the “merciful” God kill all my squad members, but let me live? Why would He take my mother away?

And why was He trying to take my father, too?

Later that night, I sat in my dark bedroom, staring out the window. The moon was full, and it made me think of the last time I’d seen it that way. I’d been with Carrie on my bike. We’d whipped through the streets of San Diego, and she’d clung to me the whole time. We’d been so wild and free and in love.

My dad kept insisting I stop pushing her away, but maybe I should be pushing her away even harder. Maybe I should break it off with her. Set her free. Wouldn’t that be better than this? I eyed my pill bottle. It hadn’t been long enough for me to take another one yet, but the urge was there. I tried to ignore it.

The door opened, and I lurched to my feet unsteadily. She slid inside the door, shut it, and then stood somewhere close to it. I couldn’t see her because it was too dark. “Finn? Are you in here?”

For a second, and only a second, I debated not answering. She would go away, and I could drink myself into oblivion, and top it off with another pain pill or two. But then I remembered I loved her, and she loved me, even if I was an ass. “I’m here.”

I heard her come closer. “Can I turn on the light?”

“I prefer the dark. It soothes me.”

“Okay.” Her weight dipped down on the bed beside me. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s dying.” My voice cracked on the last word. I couldn’t fucking help it. I needed him here. God didn’t need him.
I
did. “It’s not fair.”

Her arms wrapped around me from behind, entwining in front of my heart, and I clung to her joined hands with my good hand. It felt good. Right. Human. “I’m so sorry. But he’s still here. He could live another twenty years and surprise us all.”

“Yeah. Maybe. He is stubborn like that.” I laughed. It felt foreign in my throat. “Must be where I got it from.”

She was silent for a second, almost as if she couldn’t believe I made a half-assed joke, and then she laughed. It washed over me, soothing my soul. “Yeah. Must be.”

“That was the wrong answer,” I teased. My fingers twitched on hers. “You were supposed to say I’m not stubborn at all.”

“I would, but we promised not to lie to each other.” She kissed my shoulder. “So the truth it is, love.”

Love
. She hadn’t called me that since Germany.

I closed my eyes, pretending I hadn’t just found out my dad was sick. On top of that, I pretended I wasn’t fucked up. Pretended we were in California, not D.C. Then I opened my eyes and woke the fuck up. “I appreciate that about you. You always tell me the truth.”

She shifted behind me. “I try to, anyway.”

“Do you still love me, Carrie?” I tightened my hand on hers when she tried to pull away. “And before you answer that, let me be clear. I’m not talking about the man I was before I left. I’m talking about the man I am now.
Me
. Do you love
me
?”

“Of course I do.” She wiggled free. I let her this time. “This will pass, Finn. I know you’re upset because it’s been a battle every second of every day, but it’ll get better.”

“It might not.” I stared out the window. “I might be like the moon now. It will come and go in phases, but I don’t think the pain, the sheer helplessness and anger I feel at the world right now, will ever fully go away.”

“Why are you angry?” she asked, her voice whisper light.

“Because He took everyone else, but He let me live.” I shook my head and forced a laugh. “No matter how many times I look at it, and no matter how many different ways, that will never make sense to me.”

Her hand found mine and held on tight. “Do you wish you’d died?”

“I don’t think you want honesty on that question,” I said, my throat tight. “Not tonight, anyway. Ask me another time.”

She made a weird sound, but stayed silent on the issue. “I’m glad you lived. It might make me selfish and horrible, but I’m glad.”

“You don’t think it would be easier on everyone if I’d just died?” I asked, my voice oddly distant in my own head. “I think He made a mistake. I think I was supposed to die, too. That’s why I feel the way I do. That’s why I can’t let myself be happy. I’m supposed to be dead, like them. Hell, I feel like I’m dying already.”

She cried out. “Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

“I have to be fucking honest, right?” I rubbed my head, my gaze on my casted arm. “This is me right now. This is the real me. No pretending I’m okay. No lies.”

She crawled into my lap and cradled my face. “I know, but I’m here. And I’m not letting you waste away. I refuse to let you wither away into nothing because you feel like you should be dead. If you were supposed to be dead, you’d be dead. You’re here, and you’re mine.”

“I’m a drunk and I can’t even relax or sleep.” I bit down on my tongue hard. “Why do you want me to stay?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” She kissed me, perfect and sweet and so very
her
. She pulled back, but I could still taste her on my lips. “I love you, and I’m not leaving you. I’m here to stay, and so are you.”

I dropped my forehead to hers. I
wanted
to believe it. Hell, deep down I
did
believe it. Once upon a time, I’d been sure we would get our happy ending. I’d known, deep down to my soul, that we were meant to be together forever. That I was the best man for her, because no one would make her happier than I could, because our love was just that fucking strong. I’d been certain of it.

I couldn’t say the same thing anymore.

There was a shift in him tonight. I could feel it. Sense it. He was still trying to convince me he wasn’t good enough for me, just like when we’d first gotten together, but now it was more of a hindsight type of thing. He wasn’t pushing me away, but he was being painfully honest with me.

Maybe he was actually starting to heal.

It was way too early for recovery. I knew that. I’d done my research. Even now, I had an open book on PTSD and all its lasting effects on my nightstand. It was part of my bedtime routine. I also had countless books on being the support system for someone with PTSD, and how best to handle certain types of episodes. That’s what he’d had today.

An
episode
.

He worried that he might not go back to normal. I wasn’t sure he would either, but I knew one thing: he might never get back to normal, but he would get better. And if he didn’t ever return to normal, well, then, he would have to achieve a new standard of normal. We’d have to adjust our expectations.

His hand skimmed down my sides and settled on the curve of my hip. “Ginger…”

God, I’d missed him calling me that. He used to do it all the time. Now, it was always Carrie.
Carrie
this and
Carrie
that. Never Ginger. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to stop telling you to leave me.” He caught my hand. “I’m going to stop pushing you away, but know this: I still think you could do better. This isn’t a heroic action of mine; it’s a selfish one. I don’t want to lose you, because I need you. But you
should
walk away from me.”

My heart twisted painfully. The fact that he believed this, with all his heart, broke mine. “You’re wrong. You’re the most unselfish man I’ve ever met.” I wiggled my hand free. “And I think you’re blind to yourself.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” he said sheepishly. He ran a hand over his head, probably looking for those curls again. With a grimace, he dropped his hand to his lap. “I’m going to try to get better for you.”

“Don’t do it for me.” I undid the last button of his shirt. “Do it for you.”

“No.” He ran his hand up over my body, tipping my head back. “For
us
.”

I swallowed hard and unclasped his sling, my knuckles scraping against the hard cast. Desire unfurled in my belly at the way he watched me. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. “Let’s get you out of this shirt.”

“Only if you get out of yours, too,” he said, his tone light.

Hope, small and distant, flared in me. I’d been right. He was different tonight. Maybe his talk with his father had helped. Whatever it was, I was happy for the change. “That could be arranged.”

I took the sling off and laid it on the side. He flinched. “I think it’s time for another pill.”

“Has it been four hours yet?”

He hesitated. “Yeah, a little over, I think.”

I gently slid his shirt off his shoulders. His hard muscles taunted me. I wished I could run my tongue over each one, but he wasn’t ready for that. “And when was your last drink?”

“With Riley.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn the light on so I don’t spill them.”

Silence. “All right. But stay on my lap.”

“Gladly. It’s my favorite place to be.”

He chuckled lightly. “The feeling is mutual.”

I stretched my arm and turned on the light by his bed. It was very dim. Perfect for what I needed. I grabbed the bottle and undid the cap. When I turned back to Finn, he was watching me with a soft look in his eye. One that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I swallowed and poured one big pill into my palm. “Do you need a drink to wash it down?”

“I
need
you.” He took it and tossed it into his mouth. “But, yeah, I could go for some water. My bottle is next to the lamp.”

I closed the meds and set them back where they’d been. Picking up the water, I undid that cap, too. “We need to get you a glass in here.”

“I’m fine.”

He tipped his head back and chugged the water. As he did so, I let my gaze skim over his body. He had injuries, sure, but he looked beautiful to me. Even more so than before, if anything. His ink still stretched over his muscles, and his muscles were still ridiculously hard and huge.

The heart under those muscles was still the same, too.

My stomach tightened and I forced my gaze away. I didn’t want him feeling pressured to do anything with me. Heck, last night had been pushing it. Although, it had seemed to maybe help a little bit… But the books said it didn’t.

“You can turn out the light now,” he said. I looked back at him, and he looked so vulnerable it hurt. “I know it’s not a pretty picture.”

“Finn, you look delicious.” I skimmed my fingers over his shoulders. “When I look at you, it takes all my control not to attack you. You don’t see what I see.” I touched the cut on his shoulder. “I see bravery. Love. A good man.”