Finn

Ever have a psychological breakdown? If you haven’t, let me be the first to tell you they suck. A lot of what happened when I made it back to the changing area is still blocked from my mind. I remember some things: my hands swelling and the skin tearing open as I busted shit up. And lashing out like a crazed beast when anyone neared me.

The voices of my brothers were muffled, like I was somehow being held underwater. It was Sofia’s voice that kept me from becoming fully submerged, yet it was Sol’s presence that dragged me from the water. She lifted me out of that hell filled with hate and misery.

I hate Norman Kessler. I hate what he did to me and to every kid he got his hands on, every little boy who was afraid to tell on him and who was too small and weak to fight back.

He tore me up. He broke me down. But no way will I let him keep me there. Not anymore.

Sol stays glued to my side as we make our way out of the arena. My family surrounds us, but they’re not alone. Fighters from varying weight classes―some who faced off―but more who just came to watch, gather around us, creating a wall and blocking reporters that dare to edge close.

I hear the questions, all of them. They don’t know much, but they know and saw enough. I ignore them and so does my family. The voices fade in and out as my mind struggles to put one foot in front of the other.

With how I’m feeling, it should take forever to reach Kill’s car. But before I know it, we’re suddenly there. As the door shuts tight behind me, I robotically reach for my seatbelt and snap it in place.

Sol settles against me, resting her head on my shoulder as my arm curls around her. 

“Seamus has your car,” Sofia tells her from the front. “Where would you like him to drop it off?”

She’s asking Sol where she’s spending the night, asking her to make a choice. I keep my gaze ahead as I wait for her to answer, working to keep my hold around her loose. I want her with me, but only if she wants to be.

She lifts her head long enough to answer. “At Finn’s,” she responds. “I’m staying with him tonight.”

Kill nods his head as if relieved. I almost expect Sofia to ask her if she’s sure. Like Kill, the tension along her shoulders seems to lessen at Sol’s reply.

And they’re not alone.

I keep quiet the whole way back to my place, even as me and Sol follow Wren into the house. All my brothers are there. I can feel them watching me, but I can’t look at them. The rage has lifted, but it left a shit ton of shame behind.

Tonight should have been one of the best of my life. I had the chance to earn my title bout and I got the job done. But from the moment I saw old man Kessler, the experience became something out of a nightmare, one that followed me long after I left the octagon.

With Sol here, I want this night to be what it was supposed to be. A great one. And I want these steps we’re taking to be among the first that get me to a better place.

My family mumbles their goodnights and goodbyes around me. I’m sure they’re speaking to me. But shame is that wicked thing that keeps me quiet. They keep their distance, except for Wren. She locks the door behind us and hauls me to her, hugging me close the way big sisters do when they’re scared and they want you to know they love you.

I hug her back. I love her, too. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” Wren says, hurrying away when it seems like she’s ready to lose it.

Sol leans heavily against me as we make our way to the rear of the house. I’m beat up and bloody. We pass my bedroom and head straight to the bathroom.

I kick the door shut and strip out of my clothes while she starts the water in the shower. Maybe it’s too much too soon―standing there naked in front of her―especially after all our time apart. But there’s nothing there she hasn’t seen, touched, or tasted. I drag my hand through my hair when that familiar twinge warns me I’m seconds from getting hard.

I pull back the clear curtain and step into the claw foot tub, letting the warm stream hit my face. Swirls of pink flow down the drain as the blood coating my body dissolves and washes away.

As I look up and turn so that the water can hit my back, I freeze. Through the clear curtain, my eyes latch onto Sol’s nearly naked body. Her jeans, top, boots, and socks are gone, and as I watch, her bra falls to the floor. I’m already stiff when she tugs off her panties, but when she parts the curtain and steps inside, my erection lifts parallel to my stomach.

She bites down on her bottom lip when she notices, her eyes returning to mine and pegging me with a gaze I’ve seriously missed. “I’m going to wash your hair, okay?” she says.

I nod, edging closer when she pours shampoo into her palm. She shudders when my thick length pokes her belly.

I don’t touch her, not yet. Instead, I bend forward, allowing her to wash my hair.

As she rinses my hair, I lean in closer and tilt my chin. I don’t know if I kiss her first, or if she meets me somewhere in between. But her fingers leave my hair to thread around my shoulders, pulling me tighter.

Our kiss is slow at first, playful, like it’s our first time kissing. As it deepens, I’m reminded that this isn’t our first time doing what we’re about to do. I don’t ask her if she’s still on the pill, or question if we should use something. I just lift her onto my hips and ease my way inside. Her head falls back against the tile wall when I’m all the way in, exposing a throat I can’t wait to nibble.

My tongue flicks the drops of water speckling her skin as my hands adjust her legs around my waist. She releases a groan, encouraging me to withdraw slowly. I want to start thrusting, my body crazy with need. But I wait for her head to loll forward, for her eyes heavy with lust to fix on mine before I start. Our foreheads meet, her heady stare intensifying with the steady pounding of my hips and her ankles fastening securely around my back, driving me into her deeper and faster.

Given how much my body has missed hers and how tight she feels, I don’t expect to last. But I do, sucking on her erect nipples as she repeatedly comes. When I finally release, it hits me harder than I ever felt, tensing every muscle in my body. But as my hips slow and I fill her, that’s when I feel the full impact of her with me.

Sol is here. Her slick body pressed against mine. Her sweet face staring back at me and her embrace begging me never to let her go.

I shut off the water and lift us out, stopping to kiss her when my feet hit the bath mat.

“Are we back?” I ask her, trailing a strand of wet hair away from her face. I’m hoping like hell we are. I’ve never needed anyone like I need Sol.

She smiles softly, causing the drops of water to slide against her cheeks. Even though it appears like she’s crying, I swear to Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more beautiful.

She shifts her hands behind me, adjusting her hold around my neck. “We’re back,” she whispers.

I kiss her again like I need to, smiling against her mouth when I pull away. “Let’s get dry,” she says, taking my bottom lip in her teeth and giving it a pull. “Then let’s get to bed.”

She turns, snagging a towel from the rack. We both laugh as she does her best to dry us off. Still, I don’t let her go and she doesn’t try to get down.

I keep her with me, carrying her naked down the hall and to my room. We flop on the bed and spend the rest of the night making up for lost time.

“I love you,” she tells me sometime around dawn.

My fingers smooth against her cheek, trailing down her throat to that spot between her breasts where I press a kiss. I adjust my position against her. “I love you, too,” I say, my eyes searching her face. “And if you let me, I swear to God I’ll love you forever . . .”

––––––––

A knock on the door wakes me a few hours later. I pull the sheet at our waists up, draping it around Sol. I don’t expect someone to barge in. That doesn’t mean I’m taking a chance on anyone seeing my girl naked. “Yeah?” I ask, once she’s covered.

“Do you want lunch?” Wren calls from behind the door.

“You’re cooking?” I ask. Shit, I must be worse off than I thought.

“No, dumbass. I’m ordering from Angelo’s,” she fires back. “You want something or not?”

It’s not until Sol laughs against me that I realize she’s awake. “You hungry?” I ask her.

“Starved,” she says, groaning a little. “Thirsty, too, but I’ll just have water from the fridge.”

“Four steaks, some cheese fries, and a calzone,” I yell toward the door. “Sound good?” I ask Sol, lowering my voice.

“Mmm. Real good,” she answers, snuggling against me.

“There’re a few bills in the kitchen drawer―”

“It’s okay, Finnie. I got you,” Wren interrupts.

I don’t miss the relief in her voice. She knows I’m okay, for now. But I can’t deny how fucked up I was last night. 

I didn’t have a drink. I didn’t take any shit I shouldn’t have. What I had was an emotional breakdown, one that was probably years in the making. It messed me up, clouded my judgment, and made me take out my pain on those who didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for everything I did.

Those things I remember, anyway.

The night is still fuzzy. That numbness that had become more friend than opponent latched onto my throat like a whip the minute I saw old man Kessler. It choked me to the point that I couldn’t breathe or think right. When it snapped, it released all my rage and misery, blinding me with flashbacks.

Did Sol’s absence contribute to my downward spiral? Did her mother’s suicide attempt trigger a lot of shit I’d buried deep? Yes, on all counts. But I don’t blame her or her mother. I don’t even blame old man Kessler―despite the fact that he gave life to a fucking monster. I’ll admit, his presence did a real number on me. But even if he hadn’t shown, eventually something or someone else would have pushed me over the edge.

I know that now.

Sol shifts her body, resting her head against her palm. “What are you thinking?” she asks.

I knead her hip, welcoming the feel of her skin against mine. “That I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” she says, playing with the stubble along my jaw. “But what are you really thinking?”

Yeah, my girl knows me. “That I’m really messed up and that I have a lot of shit to work through.”

Her eyes grow sad. “I know,” she agrees. “Me, too.”

“So, let’s be messed up together and maybe help each other through it.”

“It won’t be easy,” she says quietly. “For either of us.”

“No,” I agree. “But it’ll be impossible alone.”

Her eyes brim with tears, but she manages to smile. “You’re right. I can’t do this without you.” She pauses and sniffs, her eyes travelling over my face. “I really need you, Finn.”

Yeah. I need her, too.