“I know.” He paused, the words slurring together. “But it’s just not the same. Nothing’s the same anymore. And I’m sorry for that, too.”
“Things don’t have to be the same to be good,” I whispered. I ran my thumb over his lower lip, like he used to do to me. “People change. As long as we change together, we’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think you have any idea how much I need you, Ginger.” He rested his bandaged hand on my hip. “I love you so damn much. You have no idea how much.”
“I do, because that’s how much I love you.” I kissed the spot above his heart before resting my hand over it. “Now get some rest. It’s almost morning.”
He nodded sleepily, and within seconds he was breathing evenly again. Tears fell from my eyes, and I didn’t wipe them away. If anything, it would draw notice to them and possibly wake him up, and he didn’t need to know how upset I was. I needed to be the stronger one right now.
For him. For us. For me.
These next couple of weeks would suck for all of us, but once we got through them, the healing process could start. Finn would bury his father, and over time he would stop drinking so much. His arm would heal, and then he would stop taking meds. Maybe he would be able to laugh again. Smile again. We could go home to Cali, and he’d be able to surf, ride his bike, and start school. Everything would be fine.
Everything had to be fine.
A few hours later, I woke up when someone knocked on the door lightly. I rolled over and squinted toward the noise, trying to remember where I was and why someone was knocking. Then I remembered it all. Oh, boy, did I remember it all.
Mom looked at Finn and the way he was holding me, her lips pressed together. “It’s time to wake up. We have to start the funeral arrangements.”
“All right,” I whispered. “I’ll be right there. I think he should sleep a bit more, because—”
“I’m up.” Finn’s bicep flexed under me. “I’ll be down.”
Mom nodded, giving me one last look before she left the room. I lifted my head and studied Finn’s face. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. His blue eyes met mine, and he tried to give me a small smile. “My arm’s asleep, I think.”
“Oh.” I scooted back and sat on the side of the bed, facing him, hugging my knees. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” He lifted his arm and rotated it, flinching. “Ow. What the hell happened to my hand?”
I looked at him, not certain what to say. “You don’t remember?”
“I remember losing my shit, but I’m a little sketchy on all the details.” He reached out to brush my hair off my face before glaring down at his bandaged fingers. “Oh, f**k. I broke stuff, didn’t I? Punched the wall and all that?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. It’s okay, though.”
“In what world is that behavior okay, Carrie?” He sat up and rested his arm on his knees, in almost the same position as me. His slinged arm was the only difference. “Hitting things and throwing fits are never okay. I’m not a child.”
“Your dad just died.” I flinched when he paled at the words, reaching out to squeeze his foot. “I think we all understand why you lost control like you did. No one holds it against you.”
He met my eyes, but glanced away just as quickly. “I do. I hold it against me.”
“Finn…”
He got out of bed. “Don’t make excuses for my behavior. You deserve better, and you know it.” He turned back to me, his bandaged hand at his side. “What if I had hurt you? What if I…?” He broke off, his jaw flexing. “God, what if I lose it and hurt you, Carrie? I’d never forgive myself.”
I fought the undeniable urge to press a hand to my cheek, hiding the mark he’d made last night. I knew he hadn’t meant to. He’d been out of his mind. Inconsolable.
But I wasn’t making excuses for him.
I shook my head. “It will never happen, so you don’t need to worry about it. You’d never hurt me like that.”
“I promise to try to do better. I know yesterday was—” he sighed, “a fail of epic proportions. Today will suck too, and the next day. But I’ll do better.”
I gave him a small smile. “You’re doing just fine.”
“No, I’m not.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, glowering down at his bandaged hand. “Can you take the bandage off? I need to have at least one hand.”
“Are you sure—?” When he gave me a look that clearly said take it the f**k off, I came around the side of the bed and knelt at his feet. “If it hurts too much, I can put it back on. I watched them do it yesterday.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I can’t believe he’s gone. Just like that. No matter how much I see death, no matter how many times I lose someone, I will never get over how f**king fast it happens. One second they’re there, and the next…just gone.”
I undid the silver clasp that held the Ace bandage on before slowly unwrapping it. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling right now, because I can’t possibly understand it until I’m there, but I know it sucks, and anything you need? I’ll give it to you.”
He met my eyes. “I know. You’re too good to me.”
“You keep saying that.”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “Because it’s true, and I promised not to lie to you anymore.”
I shook my head and bit down on my lower lip, focusing on the task at hand. From what I could see of his knuckles, things weren’t looking promising for him. He thought he’d be able to use his hand, obviously, but it looked mangled, bruised, and thoroughly unusable.
After I finished the task at hand, I settled back on my haunches. He flexed his fingers, paling and flinching. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“I know.” Automatically, I reached for his pain pills. At some point, the bottle had fallen to the floor and rolled partially under the bed. There were only three left, so I’d have to get more this afternoon. That meant he’d taken more than he was supposed to. There should still be six. “I’ll open this and—”
“No.” He rolled his shoulder, flexing his hand again. “I’m done taking those things. They’re f**king with my head. Flush them.”