If he’d been less fragile, his very intelligent mate might have hidden it better with a vague, almost, or mostly true statement.
But right now?
It’s rotted fruit left in the sun, and it’s a lying-lie-that-lies. He is nowhere near fine.
Luca knows Finn is doing it to protect himself, but he shouldn’t be alone with it. It only gets harder when you try to handle it alone—and Luca would know.
“Hey. We tell each other the truth, right? You and me?” Luca tightens his grip just a little. “We’ve always been honest with each other, especially about…stuff…”
Mental health stuff, especially. Granted, it’s usually Luca being honest with Dr. Merritt, but he’s always thought it went both ways.
“I don’t owe you anything, Luca. Now, back the fuck off,” Finn growls.
Whoa. That. Was. So. Mean.
That’s not Finn, either.
“Excuse me?”
Luca’s feelings aren’t hurt, though. He knows what it feels like to come down from a panic attack and just want to move the fuck on.
Too many questions pick away at the resolve to lock it all away.
No one really bugs Luca with questions because his family already knows what triggers his attacks. Usually, it’s people—work, people, his father, you know…people.
Finn’s triggers and his ‘why’ are a mystery, and it feels like something Luca should know.
“Look. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to…”
Talk about it? Think about it? What isit?
Finn drops the towel and instead pulls the collar of the white sweater he’s been wearing off and on since Nix came home from the hospital, tugging it up over his nose.
He breathes deeply, then rubs his cheek against the fabric in a self-soothing gesture.
When he catches Luca watching, he pulls it down and forces his gaze away.
Hold up.
Aside from the slight rotten fruit scent, all Luca can smell is Nix.
Finn is using Nix’s scent to soothe himself out of a panic attack.
Well, shit. It’s getting clearer now.
“Finn, are you…worried about Nix? I know the last few days have been harder than normal. But Gideon says he’s doing great. They’ll practice tomorrow again, and every day until—”
Maybe all this has been a manifestation of Finn’s worries.
Where Jay is being a guilt-ridden asshole, or Rowan thinks he needs to challenge authority for reassurance, Finn needs to sit on the floor of the kitchen and cry in the dark.
Sure. Seems plausible.
“What? Until what, Luca? Until he’s fighting for his life? Maybe I should say I’m not fucking worried about him? I know he’s capable. I know he’ll kick Hayes’s ass, and that psycho won’t be anything but a smear on the fieldby the end. Is that it?”
Finn’s anger and sarcasm are so unfamiliar—aggressive enough that Tsuki stands up with a whine, moving away from the suddenly unpredictable alpha.
Luca says softly, “Finn. He can do this. You saw how fast he heals and how strong he is, right?”
