As if I didn’t know all about it.
“That’s what we said to him,” he said lightly. “But he was. We found that out one night, for sure.”
I sat down beside Finn, resting my hand on his knee. He had one leg bent over the other, so it was the perfect snuggling position. He wrapped his good arm around me, his gaze shifting to my dad before he hugged me close. When he held me like this, I almost believed the façade he showed the world. Almost believed we were okay.
“Did you put one on his pillow to mess with him?” Dad asked.
He was being polite, but now that I was here, next to Finn, I could hear the tension in his voice. He didn’t approve, but he knew forbidding it wouldn’t work, so he was being quiet…for now. I couldn’t help but wonder how long that silence would last.
“I did,” Finn admitted, a side of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided grin. “When he came into the room, I laid there as if I didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on.”
Larry shook his head. “I’m sure he was pissed when he saw the beast on his bed.”
“He screamed like a little girl.” Finn’s hand flexed on my shoulder. He gave a long, hard look at the empty glass on the table before turning back to his dad. “That was the second to last day we were there. He didn’t sleep the whole night.”
Which meant the next day, the guy Finn was talking about had been killed. And Finn had watched it happen. My heart twisted, and I looked up at him. He stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed. He looked lost. I wished I could find him.
Dad cleared his throat. “And that was that.”
“Yes, that was that,” Finn rasped. He seemed to shake himself, and then he was back on earth again. “He was scared to surf, too. I told him I’d teach him sometime.”
“You’re an excellent teacher,” I said.
“Wait.” Dad sat up straighter. “How would you know how good of a surfing teacher he may or may not be?”
I froze. “Uh…”
Finn closed his eyes and sighed. “I taught her.”
“You did what?” He rose to his feet, his face turning an alarming shade of red. “Griffin Coram, I’ll have your skin for—”
“Dad.” I glowered at him. “In the scheme of things, do you really think it’s that big of a deal? I’m obviously okay.”
“Obviously okay?” Dad sputtered. “I…he…you…” He cut off. “Argh.”
Finn cleared his throat and made as if to rise. “I think that’s my cue to grab another whiskey.”
“I’ll get it.” Dad looked at me. “I need the fresh air.”
Once my dad left, Finn looked at me and smiled, his blue eyes softening as they usually did when he looked at me. I ran my hand over his head, smiling back at him in return. I used to play with his hair. I missed that. “Oops,” I said. “My bad.”
“He was bound to find out eventually. Might as well be now,” Finn said, reaching out to tug a strand of my hair. “Where’d you go earlier?”
“I picked up your medicine.” I reached into my purse and put his bottle of pain pills on the coffee table. I’d be keeping a close watch on how many disappeared. “Remember? I told you before I left.”
“I must’ve forgotten.” He ran a hand down his face. “Sorry.”
He’d been forgetting a lot of things lately. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pills, the booze, or the injury. Maybe a combination of all three. Either way, it kind of freaked me out. “It’s okay. Maybe I was wrong and I forgot to tell you.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m glad you’re back now.”
Larry stood up. He looked a little bit pale and unsteady. I started to rise, but he shook his head. Finn looked over at him, and Larry gave him a smile. “I’m going to crash early tonight, son. I’m exhausted.”
Finn studied him. “You feeling all right, Dad?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m fine,” Larry said, shaking his head and chuckling. “Don’t you worry about me. You worry about you.”
Finn narrowed his eyes. “You look pale. Are you getting sick again?”
“No, not again.” Larry headed for the door without looking back. “Good night.”
When Finn started to stand, I tugged him back down. “Let him go. He’s tired. You can talk to him in the morning.”
Finn tensed. “Something’s wrong, and he’s not telling me. Do you know what it is?”
I was pretty sure Finn’s father wasn’t doing well. I thought it might be something to do with his heart, but I’d never gotten it confirmed. “I don’t. I have my suspicions, like you,” I said, squeezing his hand. “We’ll talk to him together in the morning, okay? Not now.”
He nodded and let out a sigh. “You’re right. But don’t let me forget to talk to him tomorrow. Promise you’ll remind me.”
I swallowed hard. “I promise.” I rested my hand against his cheek, trying to enjoy the moment. “How’s the head feeling tonight?”
He met my eyes, relaxing under my touch. “It hurts,” he admitted. “A lot.”
“Have you had any more pills since I left?”
He shook his head but didn’t meet my eyes. “Nope.”
“Okay.” I hesitated before grabbing his pills. For what had to be the millionth time, I said, “But you’ve been drinking. You’re not supposed to mix—”
“They just say that shit to scare you. I’m fine.” His hand shook as he took the bottle from me. He seemed to remember he couldn’t open it with one hand, so he held it back out. “Can you help me?”
“Of course.” I opened the bottle and poured out a pill, wishing I hadn’t asked him how his head felt. I’d had to beg to get a refill for him, since it was a full day too early. “You’re not supposed to mix them, and you know it.”
“I don’t give a damn, and you know it.” He took a deep breath. With a small grimace, he popped the medicine into his mouth. After he swallowed, he gave me a long, hard look. “I’m fine, Carrie. Don’t worry.”
I froze, the lid half on. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“I watch you all the time. You always look worried, unless you see me watching. Then you laugh and smile.” He cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my lip. “I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll get through this.”