“Walker… ” I shook my head. Fucking hell. Why did this shit pop out of my damn mouth at the worst fucking times? What the fuck was wrong with me?! I thunked my brow with the heel of my hand.
“I need some air.” I ripped my coat off the rack and was out the door before he was even properly on his feet. The elevator was too slow. I bolted to the stairs and, then, out a side door, the wind off Lake Ontario greeting me like the wild banshee that she could be in the winter. It nearly knocked me back into the complex, but I forged on, shoulder into the wind, nose running, eyes watering, wretched things bubbling inside my head. Bad things. Things that I did not want to subject a kind, loving man like Finn to.
I walked and walked. Bitter cold gusts pushed against me until I reached the Rochester Harbor, where the Genesee River flowed into the great lake. Commercial boats with rows of lights could be seen reflected on the lake’s choppy surface. I turned my face into the wind to look at the marina, where hundreds of recreational boats could be found in warmer weather. Most were off the lake now since the water did freeze. There was no ice yet, so the big boats were all business as usual.
Hands in my pockets, I shivered as the light from the Charlotte-Genesee lighthouse helped to guide ships into the harbor. My phone lay on the end table, so it was just me and the spirits of the rumored ghost ships that sailed the great lake.
Finn would be worried. Maybe I should tell him. Just spill all the shitty deets about my past. Tell him I was beaten as a child and let him decide if he was able to date a man with such a fucked-up head. Or, and this was probably the best thing for all, I should just let him find someone who wasn’t a grade A basket case. It would be for the best. For him, not for me obviously, but for him. He was too good to be loving a man who was such a piece of shit.
I stood there for so long my feet and fingers had grown numb, and the first subtle shades of dawn were pinkening the sky. Limping home, I crept into my place, seeing Harper’s coat on the rack, and Finn gone. My cell lay dead on the end table. I plugged it in to charge, numb inside and out, and read over the dozen texts from Finn. Each one filled with concern, apologies, and so much caring that I wanted to weep, but men didn’t cry. I fired off one reply to him.
Walker: I’m a fuckup. Can we meet tomorrow after school 2 talk? If U don’t want to I understand. ~ W
I dragged myself into the shower. There I stood under the hot flow until the stream began to cool, and then I made my way to bed. I lay there and watched the sun fully rise, my toes still cold, and came to the conclusion that I needed to tell Finn the truth about my past. He had earned that at the very least. Truthfully, he had earned way more, but it was all I had to give him.
FOURTEEN
Finn
It had been a long day,one of those never-ending Friday afternoons where the minutes dragged, and the air in the classroom felt stale and heavy. What had happened with Walker had thrown me for a loop. I’d tried to get ahold of him, but his message about meeting after school made me worry and fret and get excited all at the same time. Maybe that was why the kids were restless. Or maybe they were eager for the weekend, and honestly, so was I. Jamie sat quietly at his table, drawing, head bent low over the paper. His fingers clutched the crayon tight. I’d spent all week watching him closely, catching how he’d flinch if someone walked too close or how he stared off into space for far too long.
He was having counseling, his mom too, his dad not part of their lives.
I’d been kept in the loop, but I hated it all. Poor kid.
When the last bell rang, I let out a sigh of relief. Most of the kids burst from the room, laughing and shouting while they bolted for their parents as they collected them. Being this is grade one, the parents came to the side door, but it was evident that no one came for Jamie.
“Hey, buddy,” I said softly. “Your mom should be here soon.”
He didn’t look up. He just added a streak of black over what I realized was a drawing of his house. The windows were dark this time, and the sky above it was all scribbles. A cold knot twisted in my stomach.
“She’s late,” Jamie mumbled.
“I’m sure she’s caught in traffic,” I said, more to reassure myself than him. “Why don’t you come help me tidy up while we wait?”
Jamie nodded reluctantly, setting his drawing aside. As he helped gather stray pencils and stack chairs, I stepped into the hallway to call his mom. Straight to voicemail. Twice. After the second time, I left a message, reminding her that school let out twenty minutes ago.
I glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. Twenty minutes past dismissal, and there was still no sign of Jamie’s mom. Not even a call or message, and the growing silence in the hallway only heightened my anxiety.
“Do you think she forgot me?” he whispered, his voice thin and brittle.
I knelt to Jamie’s level, touching his back gently. “No way, buddy. Your mom wouldn’t forget you. You’re way too important.”
Jamie finally lifted his head, wide-eyed and worried. “Then, why isn’t she here?”
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, forcing a reassuring smile. “Maybe she’s just running late?”
He nodded slowly, setting his crayon down. I handed him a small pile of books. “Can you put these back on the shelf for me?”
Jamie took them quietly, moving toward the shelves by the window. I stepped just outside the classroom door into the empty hall, taking a deep breath as I redialed Jamie’s mother.It clicked to voicemail once more. I left another calm but firm message.
“Hi, it’s Mr. Carter again. Jamie’s here with me, and we were expecting you at dismissal. Please call back or come by as soon as you get this message. Jamie’s doing just fine. We’re just waiting for you.”
None of this felt right. The last time she hadn’t made it to the school, his aunt came instead. Okay, this is stupid, I muttered to myself as anxiety over why she was late coiled in my stomach. Turning back into the classroom, I plastered on a reassuring smile, hoping I could fake it with Jamie.
I pulled a chair down from the stack and decided to distract him with a simple coloring project, something safe and quiet that might keep his mind from spiraling. The scratch of the crayons on paper had just begun when a sudden crash echoed down the empty hallway. It was sharp, violent, like glass shattering.
Jamie’s head snapped up, eyes wide and terrified. “What was that?” he whispered, his voice trembling as he stood up.
