Chapter Fourteen

 

Aven

 

The unexpected meeting was drawing on much longer than I’d hoped. Our Chicago construction team had run into a snag that had made a significant financial dent in their budget they hadn’t planned for. We’d been in a video conference for the past two hours discussing options that would take us forward without too many changes to the original plan.

When my phone lit up beside me, indicating an incoming call, it caught my eye. I’d silenced it for the meeting, but a smiling picture of Finnley told me it was from him. He never called at random. Unlike myself, he was much more of a texter and only called when I asked him to or it was planned.

We were nearing the end of our meeting, so I declined it, figuring I’d call him back immediately when we were through.

It lit up again almost right away, and an odd foreboding deep in the pit of my stomach told me I needed to answer it. I glanced around the table as I silently pushed back from my seat and grimaced to my partner Kelly, indicating to my phone. He knew I didn’t mess around and that I wouldn’t slip out if I didn’t feel it was necessary.

I ducked out of the conference room and tapped the accept call button as I leaned against the wall in the hallway.

“Finn, what’s up? I’m in the middle of a meeting,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down.

“Mr. Woods? Aven? It’s Margret.”

A cold chill washed through my body so fast, I thought I was going to be sick. “Margret? Why are you calling me from Finn’s phone? Is everything all right?”

“No. Everything is not all right. Finn—he just had an extremely bad panic attack and passed out. Are you… Can you…”

“Jesus, I’m on my way.” I took off down the hall toward my office as fast as my feet could carry me. “Is he breathing? Does he need an ambulance?”

I knew how bad things could get for him and my brain drew up a worst-case scenario instantly. Passed out? Shit! As I rounded into my office, mumbling came through the phone which sounded like Finn in the background. It was distorted and impossible to tell how he was doing.

“He’s come to, but he’s disoriented and shaking badly.”

“Keep him focused on steady breathing. Where are you?”

“Don’t try to stand, sweetheart. Sit there and keep your head between your knees,” I heard Margret tell Finn as I collected my coat from the rack behind the door and snagged my keys from the pocket. “We’re at the home. In the backroom of the basement.”

Of all places. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes or less.”

“Thank you. I… I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what happened or what caused it. I came down to give him a message and—”

Her voice choked off, the concern she felt for Finnley more than evident. I knew they were close. Finnley had said how Margret was like a mother to him, so I knew her finding him like she had would probably rock her more than a little.

“It’s okay, Margret. Tell him I’m coming. Try to keep him calm. This… It isn’t the first time.”

“I know,” she said, her voice small and distant.

I hated getting off the phone with her. The woman was more than anxious herself, but I knew she couldn’t care for Finnley and talk to me at the same time, and he needed her right then.

As I raced through the parking garage to my Audi, I clicked the fob, using the automatic starter when I was still over twenty feet away. A seed of worry was swiftly growing and spreading through my body as I wondered what had set Finnley off. As far as I understood, his anxiety and panic were rooted around sleeping. It was midday. Unless maybe his lack of sleep had caught up with him and he’d been dozing off on the job. Nothing else made sense. Whatever the reason, it had been bad enough he’d passed out.

It took everything in me not to break every traffic rule as I raced toward the funeral home. More than once, I needed to let off the accelerator and bring my speed back down into an acceptable range. When I finally arrived, I parked out front, directly by the front doors in the turnaround where the hearse would pull up to be loaded with a casket after a service.

I jumped out and burst through the front doors, not pausing in my step as I ran to the back stairs. I took them two at a time as I said a silent prayer that I wasn’t walking into that damn room to see anything that would leave me sleepless at night, too.

As I barreled down the long cinderblock-lined hallway to the open door at the end, I called out, “Hello!”

Margret came around the doorway in less than a heartbeat as I skidded to a halt. The relief on her face was visible when her gaze fell on me. “Oh, thank God.” She clutched my arms and aimed me to the door, giving me a shove forward.

I braced myself as I passed through the archway, instantly zeroing in on Finn sitting against a wall, and keeping my eyes averted so I wouldn’t have to look around. My heart raced from both the exertion of running but also the anticipation of seeing more than an eyeful.

Immediately, my peripheral vision noted the steel table off to the side was vacant, and I breathed a little easier as I dropped to the ground in front of Finn. His forehead rested on his drawn-up knees, and his arms were wrapped tight around them.

“Finn?” I touched his arm gently.

His entire body trembled, and he rocked ever so slightly back and forth.

“Finn, it’s Aven.” I threaded fingers through his hair and lowered my head to kiss him. Soft, broken words came to my ears when I was closer. His voice choked with tears, but the tone was unmistakable. He was singing. My heart broke seeing the man in utter despair with no other means of coping. Rocking and singing, trembling and crying.

I checked over my shoulder. Margret lingered by the door, worry still plastered to her face, a hand cupped over her mouth. I nicked my chin to the exit, silently asking her to please give us privacy. She nodded, and the sad look in her eyes cut into my heart as she turned to leave.

When she was gone, I turned back to my broken owl and leaned my forehead on his shoulder so my mouth was near his ear. Then, I sang along, rubbed his back soothingly, and waited for him to find his way back to me.

It was ten minutes before he fell silent and his trembling calmed. Finnley lifted his head, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering in a corner behind me. I checked over my shoulder and saw a rickety old stool that had been shoved off to the side.

“That’s my stool.” His voice cracked with thick emotion. When I glanced back, he was lost inside his head, staring unseeing. A shuddered breath escaped him before he continued. “When I was a child, after my mom died, my dad used to bring me to work with him during the day if I wasn’t in school. He told me I was never too young to learn the family business.”

My heart pinched, knowing his mother had died when he was young. What had his father been thinking?

“He’d pull that stool up to the table and plop me down on it so I could see while he worked. Showed me everything. How to embalm. How to prepare bodies and fix problems. How to apply makeup. Sometimes, he’d take me to the crematorium down the hall and walk me through that process as well. I wasn’t allowed to be afraid. Because… Death was nothing to fear. Death was part of life.”

His glassy eyes came back into focus, and his head turned back as he searched my face. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and wiping the stray tear that inched its way down his cheek. I’d never seen him so utterly lost and vulnerable. He was only eight years old when he’d lost his mother. Who in their right mind exposed a child to funeral practices? I was thirty-five years old and wasn’t sure I could handle it.

“What happened earlier to make you panic?”

He gnawed his bottom lip and swallowed what looked like a painful lump, and his gaze drifted back to the stool. His face contorted as he fought off more tears but failed as they slipped down his face regardless.

“The woman who was brought in this morning. She… she died in her sleep. She’s my age. I… I wasn’t coping well before I came down. Then, I don’t know what happened. Suddenly, I was eight years old again, sitting on that stool with my dad telling me about death. It was like I was there. The room changed all around me and looked just like it did back then. I was stuck in the past and—”

When he gulped air, and the panic swam back to the surface of his eyes, I took his face and brought his focus back to me.

“Breathe. You’re here now. Stay focused on me, okay?”

It sounded like a flashback. He mimicked my slow, deep breaths as I studied his face.

“You’re doing great. Have you ever had a flashback before?”

He shook his head and broke from my hold so he could lean on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him tight and hugged him, giving him as much of my strength as he needed. He was quiet for a long time. Knowing he’d barely slept, I wondered if I could convince him to return upstairs and rest. I had no idea about the time sensitivity of the things that he needed to do for his work, but I hoped Margret could give him a hand if something needed to be done that day.

Without asking—because I hoped it would be easier—I lifted his head from my shoulder and encouraged him to stand. When he was on his feet, it took a minute for him to regain his balance. Not only was he weak from what had transpired, but his exhaustion was written all over his face.

I grabbed his hand and led him to the door. He planted his feet before we got far and pulled me to a stop.

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs. Your body just went through the ringer, and I want you to put your feet up.”

And sleep, I wanted to say, but I kept that part to myself.

“I can’t. I have an embalming, and now I’m behind schedule.”

I turned back to him and scanned the room for the first time since I knew there was nothing to be seen.

“Does it have to be done today?”

“Yes.”

“And what about Margret?”

Finnley sighed and washed a hand over his face. “It’s not fair to her. I haven’t even hired her on fulltime, yet she’s been here more hours than me since my father died.”

“Can you afford her fulltime?”

“Yes, but—”

“But what? You aren’t your father, Finnley. Maybe this is too much emotionally for you to handle. Do you want to work the hours he did? Do you want to take this all on yourself? I’m guessing not since Margret has been here so much.”

Finn’s eyes traveled the room, darkness slipping over him. “He’d be so disappointed in me.”

The words were spoken softly, and I thought they were said more to himself than to me. Finnley rarely spoke of his father, but the impression I’d built in my mind wasn’t pleasant. All I could see was the damage that man had done to his son, and I didn’t think Finnley was aware of how bad it was. He needed help more than he knew.

I tugged his hand again, and he followed with less reluctance. At the top of the stairs, Margret instantly appeared as though she’d been waiting for us to arrive. She passed a troubled glance between us, and when Finn didn’t speak, I broke the silence.

“I’m going to take Finn upstairs for a bit.” My look told Margret I had no intention of bringing him back down that day. “Do you mind getting started… umm… downstairs?”

She nodded and shifted her gaze to Finn. “You know I’ll help any way I can.”

“I’ll be back down in a bit,” he mumbled.

She took him into a warm embrace and dashed a glance over his shoulder in my direction. Her message was clear. Do not allow him to come back.

Without words, I hoped I eased her concern.

Upstairs, Finn immediately pulled from my hold and went to the kitchen. When he opened the cupboard where he kept his unhealthy supply of coffee, I slammed it closed and kept my palm over the door so he couldn’t get in.

“What are you doing?”

I grabbed his hand and attempted to drag him from the kitchen. “I want you to come and have a nice warm shower and lie down with me.”

He yanked his hand free and backed up, his brow furrowed. “No. I’m not lying down.” He flew back to the cupboard and pulled down a k-pod and plugged it into the Keurig before I could even voice a protest. While he fished his clean mug from the dish drain, I shut the machine off and stood, blocking it.

“Finn, you have barely slept in days. The only thing coffee is going to do at this point is aggravate your ulcer and jack up your blood pressure.”

He sneered and advanced with surprising swiftness. His bloodshot eyes flooded with anger as he got right in my face. “Move. You don’t get to come over here and tell me how to live my life. Don’t you get it by now that I can’t just decide ‘Okay, now’s the time to sleep.’ It doesn’t work like that.”

He shoved me aside and slammed his mug under the machine before turning it back on and starting his brew. His next item of business was those damn pills I’d seen that morning. I was one step ahead of him and found them in the cupboard and stormed down the hall with him on my heels.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Saving your goddamn heart.”

I upended them in the toilet as he caught hold of my arm and shoved me against the wall with surprising force. Luckily, they all hit their intended target and swam in the bowl.

He jerked his head between the toilet and me before deciding on putting his attention on me since his pills were officially a lost cause.

He shoved me again, tears brimming his eyes. “You fucking piece of shit.”

“Finnley, stop.”

I batted his arm away and braced for another swing, but he took off down the hall toward the kitchen instead of continuing his assault.

Did he have more? I shot off the wall and barreled after him. When I rounded the corner, I saw him stumble and reach out to brace himself, slowing his retreat. His other hand flew up and clutched his head as he swayed on his feet.

It was more than enough time for me to catch up, and I spun him and pressed his back against the wall. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked and rattled his head. “I’m just dizzy. Leave me alone.”

Fuck that. I took his face in my hands and stared at him, trying to instill how serious I was with my tone. “Finnley, listen to me. This has gone on long enough. Look at you? You need a doctor. That could be blood pressure or—”

“It’s not,” he snapped. “It happens all the time when I’ve gone too long without crashing. I’m familiar with the fucked up life I live, Aven. Now leave me alone.”

His gaze darted to the side, and he scanned the living room before squeezing his eyes closed tight and opening them to scan again. What now? Was he hallucinating?

“Finn, I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”

“Then leave!” he roared, snapping his venomous gaze back to mine.

I flinched at his anger, his words shooting right to my heart and stinging like nothing I’d ever felt. The devastation must have read through my eyes because he took one look at my crumpling face and slammed his head back against the wall. And none too gently.

He scrubbed at his face and tugged his fingers through his hair. “Just… I can’t do this right now, Aven. I’m sorry I yelled. Please, leave me alone. Please.”

His red-rimmed eyes were surrounded with bruise-like dark circles, and his skin was so pale. I couldn’t. I couldn’t walk away like I didn’t care. I unpeeled his hands from his hair and drew his head to my shoulder. He struggled, but when he didn’t have the energy to match my determination, he collapsed with a frustrated sigh.

“If you keep this up, you will truly dig yourself an early grave. This is unhealthy. Finn, please listen to me. I can find a good doctor. I’ll go with you if you can’t go alone, but please. Please listen to me.”

He clung to my shirt and buried his face in my neck for a minute before lifting his head and meeting my eyes. His hazel irises swam with unshed tears.

“Why?” he rasped, his voice rough and worn. “Why do you care?”

“You know why,” I whispered.

He rubbed his face, and his weariness deepened. “You know, you’ve never said it. Not those exact words. Not once.”

I pinched my lips together as my heart picked up its pace. “Neither have you.”

He leaned against the wall as though needing the support so he wouldn’t fall over as he focused intently on me. Of all the times to be faced with such a declaration. That was not how I wanted it to go down.

“Say it if you mean it.” His lower lip quivered and jutted in an unconscious pout. A single tear broke free and slid down his cheek.

“Finn—”

“Say it.”

I closed the small foot of space keeping us apart and caught the tear with my thumb, touching him, and connecting us so he could hear what my heart had been silently screaming for weeks.

The words choked me when I tried to speak, and I had to swallow them once before trying again. “I love you, Finnley Hollins. I love you so much my heart doesn’t know how to process it all.”

He closed his eyes with my declaration, and I brushed our lips together in a soft kiss. It was short and chaste, and when I pulled back, he peeled his eyes open again to watch me.

“If you love me, Aven, then please go home and leave me alone.”

Tiny cracks splintered my heart, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I forced away my own tears before they swam to the surface. I stepped away from him as an internal shake emanated from my core.

“That was unfair.”

The tension between us was thick as I waited for him to say something, anything that would erase even a small piece of the hurt he’d caused. But it was futile. Finnley didn’t budge. He was suffering from profound sleep loss, and in the short time I’d known him, I’d learned it could make him into a real jerk sometimes.

A sudden knock at the inside apartment door startled us both. For a moment neither of us moved. The silence deepened. His words continued to ring through my ears and cut like a knife deep into my core.

Finnley broke our connection first and moved to answer it, but I wasn’t blind to the obvious difficulty he had crossing the room.

He pulled the door open to Margret. Her gaze shifted between us but landed on me.

“I’m sorry, Aven, I need you to move your car.”

I looked at Finnley, but he refused to make eye contact. If that was what he wanted, then fine. “It’s okay. I was just leaving.”