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 f**king 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 f**ked up. Pretended we were in California, not D.C. Then I opened my eyes and woke the f**k 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 f**king 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 f**king strong. I’d been certain of it.
I couldn’t say the same thing anymore.
Chapter Seven - Carrie
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.”