“Neurological. Memory loss, disorientation, nosebleed. He was talking about marine biology research like he'd been studying it for years.” River set down the regulator he'd been obsessively adjusting. “The doctor thinks it's stress-related, but I'm not convinced.”
“That's pretty serious shit to be dealing with after knowing someone a week.”
“I know how it looks,” River said defensively. “But you didn't see him, Jake. He was completely confused about where he was,when he was. And the things he was saying—technical details about my research that he shouldn't know.”
Jake was quiet for a moment, studying River's face with the attention of someone reading warning signs. “You're falling hard for this guy.”
“Harder than I've ever fallen for anyone,” River admitted. “Which is terrifying and probably stupid, but there it is.”
“Just be careful, man. I've seen you get obsessive about things that matter to you, and this guy clearly matters a lot.”
River wanted to argue, but Jake's observation hit closer to home than he'd like to admit. He was already thinking about Finn constantly, planning research strategies for understanding his condition, mentally reorganizing his entire life around being supportive and helpful.
“I'm trying to be careful,” River said. “But I can't just walk away from this. From him.”
“I'm not saying you should walk away. I'm saying don't lose yourself in the process of trying to save him.”
The words lingered in River's mind long after Jake left, an uncomfortable reminder that his protective instincts might be crossing into obsessive territory. But every time he thought about pulling back, about establishing healthier boundaries, he remembered the fear in Finn's eyes and the way he'd leaned into River's touch like he was starving for gentle contact.
Whatever was happening between them, whatever mysterious forces were influencing their connection, River knew he was in too deep to turn back now. Finn needed him, and that need felt more important than any reasonable concerns about timeline or emotional safety.
Even if it meant risking everything he thought he understood about love and rational decision-making.
River returned to the bookshop as evening settled over Beacon Point, drawn by the warm light glowing in the windows and the need to check on Finn after the day's medical frustrations. He found Finn in his restoration workshop, surrounded by damaged books and specialized tools, moving with the careful focus that characterized his professional work.
But River could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was using detailed work to avoid thinking about the morning's dismissive medical consultation.
“How are you feeling?” River asked, settling into the chair beside Finn's workstation.
“Like a medical mystery that nobody wants to solve,” Finn said without looking up from the manuscript he was treating for water damage. “And slightly embarrassed that you had to spend your morning in doctors' offices because of my brain malfunctioning.”
“You don't have anything to be embarrassed about,” River said firmly. “You have a medical condition that needs attention. That's not your fault.”
“But involving you in all this drama is my fault. We've known each other a week, River. You shouldn't have to deal with my neurological issues and overprotective sister and whatever the hell is happening to me.”
River reached over to still Finn's hands, noting how they were trembling slightly with anxiety and exhaustion. “Look at me.”
Finn finally raised his eyes from his work, and River felt the familiar punch of attraction mixed with something deeper—the recognition that this person mattered to him in ways that transcended rational explanation.
“I'm exactly where I want to be,” River said, meaning every word. “Dealing with whatever's happening, supporting you through medical investigations, earning your sister's approval—all of it. This isn't obligation or pity or some misguided rescue complex. This is me choosing to be here because being anywhere else feels impossible.”
“Why?” Finn's voice was soft with vulnerability that made River's chest ache. “Why would you choose to get involved in something this complicated?”
“Because you're worth it,” River said simply. “Because what we have is worth it, even if I can't explain what it is or why it's happening so fast.”
Finn was quiet for a moment, his brown eyes searching River's face for signs of doubt or regret. “I'm scared,” he admitted finally. “About my brain, about losing myself the way Mom did, about dragging you down with me if things get worse.”
“I'm scared too,” River said honestly. “About caring this much about someone I just met, about the possibility that I can't protect you from whatever's happening, about the fact that I'm already in so deep that losing you would destroy me.”
They looked at each other across the workshop table, two people who'd found something precious and terrifying, both acknowledging that their connection had accelerated far beyond normal relationship timelines.
“But I'd rather face all of that with you than be safe without you,” River continued. “Whatever's happening to your brain, whatever these episodes mean, whatever your family medical history suggests about the future—we'll figure it out together. I'm not going anywhere.”
Finn's eyes filled with tears he didn't try to hide. “Promise?”
“I promise,” River said, reaching across the table to take Finn's hands in his own. “Whatever comes next, you're not facing it alone.”
As afternoon light slanted through the workshop windows and the familiar scents of old paper and preservation chemicals surrounded them, River realized he was making a commitment that terrified and exhilarated him in equal measure. He was promising to stay with someone whose condition was deteriorating, whose future was uncertain, whose very identity might be at risk.
