Finn’s handwriting is messy but recognizable.I read a few of the notes.Where’d you go just now?Get back, you’re too close to the edge.I thought you’d like something to read to pass the time.It’s just a cat.I promise.I promise.I promise
Each one brings up a brutally painful memory because these are also things and conversations I haven’t been able to let go of.
It’s chaotic, overwhelming, and obsessive.A little mad and insane.And it breaks my fucking heart, because this was Finn trying to find me.
Tears fall.I swipe them away, but more take their place.
“Is… is it you?”Mateo’s voice is soft, hesitant.He comes forward and stands next to me, his expression laced with worry.
I don’t have it in me to deny it anymore.Not after seeing this.I nod stiffly, my throat all but closed up.“Yeah,” I whisper.
The emotions bubbling to the surface are overwhelming.I surrender fully to them because there’s no other option when I see the utter devastation I’ve wrought.God, Finn.I wipe at my face over and over.
When I can pull myself together, I ask Mateo, “Why does he highlight them in different colors?”
“He color codes them.Best I can tell, green for his Army days, blue for stuff with his dad, and pink for you.”
I nod in understanding.
“And purple?”
“He says it’s Puff the Magic Dragon shit.Like stuff he doesn’t think it real.”
A half-sob, half-laugh bursts out of me because that, too, is a memory.A movie I forced him to watch because, as a child, it had been my favorite.
In a way, it’s as if I’m invading Finn’s private thoughts, but at the same time, these are all our moments.He always shared his journals with me, never hiding anything, never lying or keeping secrets.He was an open book, and it looks like he still is.
When we eventually get a bag packed and leave the apartment, I tell Mateo I only live a few houses away.He gives me an odd look.I don’t respond to or acknowledge it.
I’m not in the headspace to explain the fuckedupness of me or my life.
As we drive to the hospital, Mateo stares out the window, his shoulders tense.His jaw muscle keeps flexing as if he’s fighting his own mental battles.The hand, fisted on his thigh, is bone-white.
I glance over at him, worry gnawing at me.I want to say something, anything, to comfort him.But I don’t know what to say.How do I explain what he saw?How do I tell him that the man he thought he knew is still there underneath the pain, just flawed, like us all?
I reach over and gently squeeze his hand.His only response is to not pull away.And it’s enough.
CHAPTER 48
The kindest souls offer forgiveness before it’s earned.
We sit in the waiting room, Mateo and I, side by side.Time seems to stretch on endlessly.From where we sit, we hear someone alert the staff to a code blue, and it nearly gives me heart failure.The idea that Finn’s heart could flatline has emotions bursting out of me that I cannot contain.
As tears spill down my face, I pray.Pray to a God I don’t believe in, and like I never have before.I used to think that if God existed, he’d sure as fuck written me off ages ago.
Now, though, I need him to hear every word echoing out from the deepest parts of my soul.
Please.Please.Please.Not him.Not him.Give us more time.Please.I’ll do anything for more time.
I pray harder, gripping the chair beneath me as if holding on will keep him here.The yearning for this wish to be granted has me holding my stomach, which is twisted with worry, and rocking forward.When a sob tears from me, arms encircle me.Mateo’s.His arms are so much slimmer than Finn’s, but it’s a comfort as he holds me while I break down.
I brush and brush the tears away, but more take their place.A never-ending torrent.All for him.Only ever for him.
And still we wait.
The sound of boots pounding down the hallway eventually shakes me out of the anxious grief.I look up, blinking through the blur of tears.An army of HOCs marches into the room—Bodie, Dozer, Cap, Griz, Maverick, and Taz.Their dark presence fills the small space, a stark contrast to the sterile waiting room.
Mateo and I stand abruptly, stepping forward as they approach.The sight of them is a comfort until Bodie’s face crumples in an instant, misunderstanding my expression and tears.He shakes his head, grabs his stomach like he’s been punched.“No,” he practically shouts, his voice strangled.He bends over, clutching himself like he’s bracing for the worst.
