Chapter Twelve

 

Aven

 

“An invitation? In the mail? Mom, do you know how incredibly impersonal that is? I’m her brother for crying out loud. Don’t I deserve to know these things in advance? Genevieve not telling me doesn’t surprise me, but you could have told me she was getting married.”

“Aven, it’s not my news to share. If your sister wanted to announce it through invitations that is her prerogative.”

I slammed said invitation on the kitchen table and leaned heavily on the counter, trying not to crush my phone in my hand with the tension building in my muscles. “Are all the family finding out like this?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know, Aven. I don’t pry into my children’s lives. How am I to know who she talks to?”

I knew that tone. She’d been covering for my sister and her ignorant behavior for years. There was a time she also covered for her husband’s, too, but those days were gone.

“How long have you known?”

“Aven…”

“Mom, the wedding is five months away. You don’t plan a wedding overnight. How long have you known?”

She sighed on the other end of the line. “A year and a half.”

I dropped the phone from my ear and ran my fingers through my hair. A year and a fucking half? Genevieve and I had never been close, but to be blatantly left out hurt. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her in all that time. We’d just been together for Dominique’s funeral a month and a half ago.

“How come my invitation is for only me? Isn’t it respectful to say ‘and guest’ when inviting someone? Especially when that someone is family?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Gaping silence. The kind that carried a depth and ominous nature that spoke of foreboding.

“Genevieve would prefer you didn’t bring anyone.”

And there it was. The sucker punch to the gut. “That’s not fair.”

“Aven, you know it would only cause problems. You know how your dad’s side of the family is.”

“He was not my dad. He never earned that title. I should be allowed to invite my boyfriend to be my date to my sister’s wedding like a normal human being. I’m not ashamed of who I am, and it isn’t my fault I’m surrounded by a family full of homophobic assholes. If she wants me there, I’m bringing a date, or I’m not coming.”

If my sister had heard my threat, she’d have brushed it off and told me good riddance, but I knew my mother wouldn’t do that. I loved the woman to death because she had supported me and accepted me, but it was silent support. When the harsh words and snide looks began to pour off the people who called themselves family, she pretended she didn’t see or hear them.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and fell into a kitchen chair. It was after eight on a Thursday evening, and I’d just got home from work. I was tired, hungry, and in no mood to deal with the same battles I’d been fighting for twenty years.

“Yeah, I do. We’ve been dating for just over a month.”

I hadn’t purposefully avoided telling my mother, but I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about Finnley being the man who’d taken care of her husband’s funeral arrangements. It might cause an awkwardness I wasn’t prepared to deal with. Either that or she might assume it was an underhanded final stab at my dead step-father. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Why am I just hearing about a wedding now?”

“Oh, Aven, your sister is the one who plays games, not you. Don’t be like that.”

She was angry, and maybe I wasn’t being fair, but the sting was real. The sting of rejection had always been real. I bit back any more snide remarks knowing it was all wasted breath.

“It’s still new, but I really like him, Mom.”

What I didn’t say was that Finnley had been keeping me at a distance the past couple of weeks. Ever since he’d spent that initial night at my house and had a full-blown panic attack, he’d refused to stay over again. Although, he didn’t argue as much about me staying at his apartment. However, when I did, he refused to consider entering his bedroom, and more times than not, I’d crashed uncomfortably beside him on the couch while he’d watched TV. He, however, rarely slept.

On top of it all, he was quite obviously sleep-deprived, grumpy, and refused to shine a light on the fact that he was dealing with a fairly serious problem.

“Well, I hope I get to meet him soon. You haven’t dated in a long time. You know I’ve only wanted you to be happy.”

“I know. You’ll meet him. How about,” I flipped over the upside down invitation and checked the date, “September third?”

She sighed, and I knew the sound of defeat when I heard it. “You’re going to cause problems, aren’t you?”

“No, I always keep my mouth shut. Everyone else causes problems.”

 “All right, all right, fine. At least give her a heads up. In the meantime, do I get the privilege of meeting this young man beforehand or are you going to lump me together with everyone else?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she wouldn’t be lumped if she grew a backbone and defended her son once in a while, but the past twenty years had proven that was never going to happen.

“Maybe we can have dinner. I’ll talk to him and get back to you with a time.”

“Aven?”

“Yeah.” I braced myself, not knowing what more could possibly be said.

“Does this young man have a name?”

I blew out a breath and dropped my head on the table. No sense dragging out that piece of information I supposed. Maybe it wouldn’t ring bells. “Yeah, his name is Finnley… Hollins.”

There was a long pause while that sunk in, and I waited.

And waited.

“I look forward to meeting him.”

I pulled my phone from my ear and stared at it. Was it possible she couldn’t place the name? I supposed it had been a traumatic few days and she wasn’t the one dealing directly with Finn or funeral arrangements. For a fraction of a second, I considered elaborating then thought better of it.

“I’ll be in touch, Mom. Talk to you later. Love you.”

I dropped my phone on the table top and picked up the invitation to my sister’s wedding that had arrived in the mail that day. Sculpted edging and rose foiled lettering. It looked exactly like something she’d choose. To Aven, it read. No ‘and guest’ because God forbid I bring a man to her wedding. How embarrassing having a gay brother. The question was, did I really want to subject Finn to their hatred?

With my mind drifting to the man who’d wormed his way into my heart, I grabbed my phone again and shot him off a quick text before hopping in the shower.

Are you home or working?

He didn’t keep regular hours, and his schedule for the day was often determined on the fly. I’d learned I could never guess one minute to the next where he’d be. Such was the nature of death.

Showering quick, I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed to my bedroom to find lounge pants. As I put them on, a text came through from Finn.

Visitation until nine-thirty, then I’ll be home. What’s up?

I mulled over that information as I pulled on a T-shirt. I worked the following morning, but we hadn’t seen each other since Monday. Three long days.

If you aren’t doing anything after, do you want to come over and keep me company? I miss you.

He didn’t respond for a long time, but that was typical if he was dealing directly with people during a visitation. Although he explained he and the few volunteers tried to remain available without interfering, they were often approached at random for conversation or support.

Sure. I can’t stay, though, I have some early morning things to take care of.

Always an excuse. Eventually, we’d need to shine a light on the little avoidance act he was pulling. I’d given him space to talk when he was ready, but clearly, that wasn’t happening.

I’ll be waiting.

Since it was a quarter to nine, I sprawled out on the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through show options, I settled on some sitcom I’d never heard of to pass the time. At some point, my busy day caught up with me, and I fell asleep.

My phone ringing on the coffee table jarred me awake sometime later, and I sat up in a confused panic, momentarily not piecing together what I was hearing and where I was. As clarity returned, I snagged my phone seeing Finn’s name on the screen. Also, I noted it was nearly ten thirty at night.

“Hello? Finn? Are you okay? How come you aren’t here yet?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before he answered. His voice was small and strained. “I need a lift.”

His words penetrated my sleep addled brain, and I didn’t quite understand. “A lift? What do you mean?”

More silence before he sighed. “I wrecked my car. I’m waiting for the tow truck to arrive. Can you pick me up?”

“What?!” Any remnants of sleep evaporated. “Oh my God, what happened? Finn, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

My heart jolted, and I was off the couch before I could blink, running to my room to find clothes to dress.

“I’m fine, a little banged up, but it’s nothing. I’m okay. My car, not so much.”

“Jesus, where are you? I’m on my way.”

“Eastland and Dover Park West.”

That was about four blocks from where I lived. “Hang tight. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Wearing a dirty pair of jeans I’d pulled from the chair in my room and a T-shirt I’d found in the clean laundry basket, I snagged my keys and was out the door in a flash. My mind raced with what could have possibly happened. That area never saw much traffic during rush hour, never mind so late at night. Had there been a collision?

Although I wanted to race, I remained mindful of my speed, not wanting to cause my own accident while I was on my way to collect Finn from his. I arrived in under ten minutes of hanging up our call just as a tow truck was pulling up. There was a police car parked across the street with his lights flashing, but I didn’t see anyone else around. No other vehicle, just Finnley’s Jetta lying on its side in the ditch. In the dark, it was hard to make out the damage, but it was clear by the way it laid it would need significant repairs.

The officer was talking to Finnley, but it seemed whatever they’d needed to handle was long since taken care of. How long had he been out there before calling?

Finn caught my eye and dashed his gaze to the ground as I approached. I overheard him telling the officer I was his ride. The taller man in uniform lifted his chin and sized me up. I nodded in greeting, more concerned with Finnley and ensuring he was truly unharmed than the stern expression on the officer’s face.

I caught Finn’s arm and pulled his head up, cradling his chin. There was a bruise forming on his upper cheekbone, but otherwise, he seemed unscathed. “Hey, are you okay?”

“He’s shaken, but he’ll live,” the officer answered patting Finn on the shoulder. “If you’re set, I’m gonna leave you. Some advice, stay off the road when you’re this tired. This could have been a lot worse.”

Finn dislodged himself from my hold and avoided my eyes while he thanked the officer. Once the man was back in his cruiser and pulling away, Finn walked over to the tow truck driver. I let him sort out what he needed to sort out and stood back and waited.

When he finished with him, he dragged his feet back to where I stood. Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze and met my eyes. “Thanks for coming.”

His dark bags stood out against his pale skin, even in the dark. The bruise had an accompanying scratch I hadn’t seen at first, and I brought a hand up and traced the injury gently with my thumb. It was fresh and would probably look worse in the morning.

“Do you need to go to a hospital and get checked out?”

He shook his head and removed my hand. “I’m really okay. It’s just a little bump.”

I refused to be thrown off that easily, and took his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me. He knew I meant business and stopped his protests. His lower lip pouted and matched the sad expression painted all over his face. More than ever, Finn looked as though he’d been dragged through the mud and had barely made it out the other side.

“Finn, what happened?”

He pressed his lips together in a firm line, and his focus shifted all over my face like he was trying to decide how best to explain. In the low light of the street lamps, his eyes glistened and swam. “I don’t know. I was driving over to see you, next thing I knew, I hit the curb and couldn’t right the car before I lost control and rolled it in the ditch.”

His body trembled under my touch, so I pulled him against my chest. He sunk against me and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding tighter than I expected. His body shuddered and vibrated. He was likely in shock.

“Did you fall asleep driving?”

He didn’t respond immediately, but when I tried to lift him off me, he clung tighter. “I… I think so.”

A million things rolled around my head, none of which I could voice right there in the middle of the road. He needed help. What he was doing to his body was so incredibly unhealthy, he was on the road to destruction. The thought that he could have lost his life that night chilled me to the bone. What if he’d veered the other way and hit an oncoming car head on?

“Come on, go get in my car, I’ll take you back to my house so we can check you out and make sure you’re really okay.”

He withdrew from my arms and looked past me down the road. “Can you just take me home?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t think you should be alone right now. Come on.”

I took his hand and gave a gentle tug, encouraging him to walk. He followed but didn’t say another word. The drive was silent, and Finn lost himself in the view out the window. When I parked, his gaze shifted to his lap, and he didn’t move. He looked broken, fragile, and extremely lost. How long had he been dealing with his problems alone?

I got out and went around to his side. When I opened his door, I held out a hand, hoping his stubbornness had gone during our short drive. “Come on, baby.”

“Don’t,” he muttered just loud enough I could hear.

“I’m sorry.” It was never my intent to upset him with that term. I used it affectionately, but it was obvious he didn’t see it that way.

Eventually, he took my hand and allowed me to guide him inside. I dragged him directly to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. They were harsh and bright, and the minute his face was lit up, the redness in his eyes and the weariness through his entire body shone through.

“Get undressed. I want to make sure this is the only bruise you have,” I said touching his cheek. “Then, you can shower, and I’ll find you something to wear.”

He was dressed in slacks and a button up and must have come directly from work. He shook his head adamantly.

“I can’t stay. I…”

“Save your breath. I’m not letting you go home. This isn’t an argument you’re going to win, Finn.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. Tears leaked through the edges of his pinched lids, but his fight drained away like he didn’t have the strength to care any longer. Without more encouragement, he removed his clothes until he stood in only his tight black boxer briefs. On a quick scan, I didn’t see any more bruises.

I ran my hands over his skin and turned him. “I told you, I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Mostly just my pride. Can I shower now?”

I flipped him around so he faced me and tucked him against my chest. The trembling I’d felt by the roadside had ebbed somewhat, but he buried his face in the crook of my neck as though needing more support than he could ask for.

Eventually, I managed to get him in a shower and retreated to my bedroom to find him something to wear. I left the pajama pants and T-shirt in the bathroom and waited for him on the couch. A short time later, the shower shut off, and a few minutes after that, Finn came from down the hallway, hair damp and in disarray.

He hovered in place, seeming awkward as he shifted his gaze about the room, unable to settle.

“Sit.” I patted the spot beside me.

With a sigh, he sunk down on the far side of the couch, and in time, slid closer, resting his head on my shoulder. I held him tight for a long while, allowing the moment to calm since he still seemed out of sorts. When his breathing evened out, I took a chance at drawing up conversation.

“When did you sleep last?”

The rapid increase in the rise and fall of his chest bothered me. It was only a question but had worked to accelerate his anxiety in mere seconds.

“Umm… the night before last. Or rather morning. I think I managed a few hours. I don’t really remember. I crashed hard.”

And that seemed to be how it happened. He kept going and going until his entire body simply shut down because it couldn’t take anymore.

“Finn, you need sleep. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. You think it’s easy?”

No, I knew it wasn’t. “Have you seen a doctor?”

He pulled from my arms and sat forward on the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Why? So he can shove sleeping pills in my face? I’ll never take them. The problem isn’t I can’t sleep, the problem is…”

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

The problem was, he feared it. Feared it to the point it was completely debilitating and ruining his life.

“I don’t mean your family physician. I mean maybe a therapist or something. Someone who deals with phobia and anxiety issues.”

He stilled but didn’t uncover his face. “No,” he mumbled into his palms. “I… I don’t need that kind of help. What would they do for me anyhow?”

I rested a hand on his back and rubbed small circles. “Maybe they can help sort out why you have this phobia and work through exercises that would help you cope better.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

I knew it wasn’t. In fact, I had no idea the extent of therapy he might need to help him cope. Rooted somewhere inside Finnley was a cause or reason, but whether he understood what it was or not, I couldn’t be sure. At that point, I didn’t want to ask. Hopefully, in time, he would find the courage to share. We’d had a minimal chat about his fear, and that in itself had brought out enough to raise red flags. I was no therapist, but there seemed to be a glaring light hovering over his childhood that called for concern.

“It can’t hurt to try. It scares me that you fell asleep at the wheel, Finn. That could have ended far worse than you rolling into a ditch.”

He lowered his hands and peered at me from over his shoulder. The weariness on his face was exponentially worse since I’d brought him home.

“Can we not talk about it anymore.”

“Will you go see someone?”

He pinched fingers in his eyes and blew out a breath. When he opened them, he turned and crawled onto my lap, straddling my waist. Leaning in, he traced his nose along the scruff on my cheek until he reached my lips. He was avoiding the question.

“Make love to me.”

“Finn…”

“Please.”

His lips covered mine, and his tongue dipped into my mouth seeking its mate. They twisted together, and we toyed and drew out the kiss for a long time. It was easy to forget the conversation and lose myself in Finnley’s taste and body. I think that was exactly what he hoped.

“Finn, I…”

Then he rocked his hips, dragging his backside against my growing arousal, and I knew there would be no more discussion. I smoothed my hands under his shirt and palmed his skin across his ribs and over his back as I drew him closer and kissed him deeper.

Coming up for air, I whispered, “Let me take you to bed.”

A flash of uncertainty crossed his hazel eyes at the mere mention of the word, and he swallowed hard enough his Adam’s apple bobbed with the effort. He lowered his face to my neck and kissed to my ear.

“Fuck me here. On the couch. Like this.” He rutted again in emphasis.

“No. We’re not a couple of teenagers getting off on the couch. If I’m making love to you, it will be in my bed.”

A shiver radiated up his spine, and I felt it under my palms. He pressed his erection against my abdomen and rocked his ass against me again. “Okay,” he breathed. “Then can we come and watch TV after?”

Oh, Finn, baby. Not a chance. I’m going to take care of you and make love to you until you can’t fight it anymore. Then, you’ll sleep in my arms. In my bed. Where you belong.

“Sure,” I lied, knowing he needed to hear me agree if only to soothe his mind.

And that was exactly what I did. One thing I’d learned about Finnley was how well we fit together and how perfectly our bodies answered each other’s calling.

I removed each piece of his clothing and touched every part of his skin, enjoying his heated flesh under my palms, and the way goosebumps rose in my wake when I feathered my fingers over his abdomen.

His lips were glorious, and when I wasn’t kissing them, they traveled down my chest ever so slowly while his sweet tongue swirled my navel and followed my treasure trail farther down. When he wrapped them around my cock and took his time pulling me to the brink, I couldn’t help but watch.

“Your lips were meant for that. God, Finn, you’re so beautiful.”

His sinful, bedroom eyes lifted and graced me with a look of ownership and love. I was speechless and overwhelmed, unsure how my heart could withstand such an overwhelming feeling without bursting.

In a little over one month, Finnley had wormed his way into my life, and I knew without a doubt, I didn’t want to let him go. I dragged him back up my body and kissed him fiercely, hoping to express without words all I couldn’t yet say.

When I broke free, I maneuvered us to our sides and encouraged him around so his back was to my front. I made quick work of finding supplies, working him loose, and finding my way home. We laid still once I’d buried myself to the root, fingers linked on his chest and taking in the moment while he adjusted.

When I moved, it was unrushed, and I made sure he knew with actions all my heart wanted to say. His moans filled the quiet room, joining mine. When he turned his head, our mouths came together, and I rocked inside him until he trembled and begged for release.

Despite wishing it would never end, I gave him what he so desperately wanted, sliding a hand down his abdomen and taking control.

“Aven,” he whimpered, pulling away from my mouth. “Oh, God, yes… please.”

He clamped a hand over my thigh and pulled me closer with each thrust, driving his hips back to meet me. When he came, shivers radiated through his entire body. I buried my face in his neck and drowned in everything Finnley as my own orgasm crept up and encased me in its warmth as well.

How had I fallen so hard in just over a month? When I looked at Finn, I saw so many things. His heart shone with such tenderness and yearned to be handled with care. But, I also saw the storm that raged under the surface. One he desperately tried to control, but the more I knew him, the more painful it was watching him drowned on his fears.

In my arms, he relaxed with post-orgasm bliss, and I hoped to keep him there until he succumbed to sleep. I nestled into the crook of his neck and breathed him in. Sweetness, a hint of spice, and man.

“I’m going to grab a cloth to clean up. Don’t move.”

I received a contented mumble as a response, and the edges of his mouth lifted into a beautiful smile. His eyes remained closed, and I hoped that was a good sign.

When I returned, I rolled him onto his back and feathered kisses over his skin as I cleaned him up. Then, I lay beside him and pulled him against my side. The whole time, although following orders when I told him to move, he seemed caught in a half-asleep world, so close to sinking under.

In my arms again, I threaded fingers through his hair and savored the closeness we shared. I was certain sleep had won, until a short while later, he mumbled, his words barely audible and less than coherent.

“Aven?”

“Yes, sleepy owl.”

He chuckled and pressed his nose to my throat, kissing the divot and inhaling against my skin. “Do you love me?”

I froze and held my breath as my pulse accelerated. Finnley lifted his chin and worked his eyes open with difficulty.

“I’m not imagining it, am I?” he said, the gleam in his heavy eyes holding hope I didn’t expect to see.

Wasn’t it too soon for such things? My heart certainly didn’t think so. “You’re not imagining it.”

He rested his head on my chest with a contented sigh. “Didn’t think so.”

My heart thrashed. What just happened? I just declared I loved him in not so many words. He didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t think. Did he?

“Is that okay?” I asked.

He squeezed my body tighter. “Perfectly okay.”

I closed my eyes and took pleasure in having Finnley in my arms. Our activities seemed to have tipped him off into dreamland without issue, and I was proud that I’d managed to bring him some peaceful rest.

It lasted twelve minutes.

Sleep had drawn me just under the surface when Finnley’s entire body flailed, snapping me immediately into alertness. He gasped and scrambled upright, clutching his chest and darting his gaze about the room. It wasn’t a slowly invading panic. It hit him like a ton of bricks the moment his body understood he was falling asleep.

“Finn. Finn, look at me.”

I knelt in front of him and held his shoulders as he searched my face frantically, sucking back gulps of air with as much control as he could. The fear behind his eyes was real, and his entire body trembled, slick with a sheen of sweat as he struggled to breathe.

“Breathe with me.”

I mimicked an even pace and knew he was doing what he could to copy. He dug his fingers into my skin as he worked to drag in each desperate gulp of air. The terror in his hazel eyes begged me for help, and tears streamed down his cheeks. His lungs thirsted and screamed for nourishment but found little with the wheezing attempts he made. He needed to calm down.

“One… Two… Finn… Finn, you have to slow them down. You’ll pass out at this rate. Copy me, baby. You can do it. One… Two.”

It took a few agonizing minutes for him to claim any control, but even then, it was minimal. His eyes fell closed while he focused, each intake minutely steadier than the previous. Then, his lips moved around words I couldn’t make out. I thought he was counting, or trying to express something, but that wasn’t it.

It dawned on me, he was trying to sing. I’d seen it before when he’d had a panic attack. Finnley seemed to take some comfort in song. And not just any song. I tugged his head down to lay on my shoulder and rubbed his back in long gentle strokes.

“Baby, you focus on breathing. Even your breaths out.”

I brought my mouth to his ear and sang to him softly so he didn’t have to. Every word I’d memorized from his favorite show’s theme song. I told him along with the lyrics that I would be there for him. Over and over. When I finished, I started from the beginning without missing a beat. I wasn’t a singer, but right away, the tension dripped from his body.

He breathed. I sang.

When the panic subsided, he broke down and cried. The wet pooling of tears on my bare shoulder only made me firm my grip and hold him tighter.

“I’m here. Always here. I’ve got you.”