“I can’t tell Alex.”
“Why not?”
Because she’d already made it clear our relationship wasn’t real. Because I was falling for her while falling apart and she was smart to protect herself from getting too involved with damaged goods.
But what was it Dr. Martinez had said? I was making decisions for Alex instead of letting her make informed choices about her own life.
I settled on, “it’s complicated.”
“Most important things are.” Dom leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But Finn, whatever’s going on, whatever you’re worried about—Alex is the kind of person who’d want to know. Want to help figure out solutions instead of being shielded from problems.”
I took another sip of whiskey, feeling it burn away some of the hesitation. “What if she decides she doesn’t want in?”
“Then you’ll know where you stand,” he sat back again. “But keeping her in the dark isn’t protecting her—it’s protecting you from having to find out. And I never took you for a coward, Finn Walker.”
The fire crackled between us, sparks rising toward the stars. In the distance, I could see other campfires from lodge guests, tiny points of light that reminded me how many people came to the place I’d escaped from to escape their regular lives.
“The hormone levels being impacted from my brain injury,” I said finally. “They’re affecting fertility. Significantly.”
Dom went very still.
“Testosterone levels are well below normal. May not be treatable long-term—could go either way,” I swallowed, my throat tight. “So even if Alex wanted… even if she was interested in a real future, I might not be able to give her basic things she deserves… like kids.”
“Shit, Finn.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you talked to anyone about treatment options?”
“My endocrinologist wants to start hormone replacement therapy. See how my body responds over the next few months. But there’s no guarantee it’ll work, and even if it does, there could be other complications down the road.” I huffed, “and then—thirty-one with a Viagra prescription and a prayer.”
Dom was quiet for a long time, processing. “And you’re assuming Alex would see this as a dealbreaker.”
I shrugged noncommittedly.
“Bullshit answer, bro. Are you beyond repair, or are you simply dealing with something that requires new systems of management?”
The question caught me off guard. “What’s the difference?”
“Intent. Trajectory. Whether you’re giving up or adapting,” Dom refilled both our mugs. “Finn, that crash didn’t kill you, thank God, but your body is figuring out how to rebuild itself in the aftermath. That’s not the same as irreparable.”
I stared into the fire, thinking about fence posts and repairs.About problems with clear solutions and measurable outcomes.
“I talked to my therapist about it yesterday,” I admitted. “She thinks I should be honest with Alex. Stop making decisions for her.”
“Smart woman.”
“Scary woman. But yeah, smart.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“Fear,” I shrugged. “Fear that Alex’ll realize our whole arrangement is becoming inconvenient. That it’s easier to throw it all away than deal with it.”
“Finn,” Dom’s voice was gentle, “I’ve known Alex for years. I’ve seen you two together. At the engagement party, in photos, the way you talk about her. The way she looks at you. That’s not convenience. That’s not fake.”
The whiskey was making me bolder, or maybe it was the darkness and the comfort of talking to my brother by firelight. “What if I tell her everything and she decides it’s too much? What if I lose her?”
“What if you don’t tell her and you lose her anyway because she thinks you don’t trust her enough to be honest? Or worse, that you’ve decided she’s too much and not worth it?”
