“But it wasn’t your fault,” Hank rose from his chair, closing the few steps between them.
“For fuck’s sake, Hank! What did I tell you?Notfrom you. You think I don’t know that? But it doesn’t matter. The result is the same, isn’t it? Cara will never dance again, and it’s because of me. Me! I took her dream away from her. No matter how you look at it, I’m the one who looked away. Shit happens when you look away, and now I gotta live with the consequences.” His words came out in pants now, and he wanted to hit, kick, smash something. Claw at Hank’s empathic face with his bare hands and scratch at his kind eyes that were now spilling over with sympathy.
“Don’t you think that it’s a harsh punishment? To live on your own like that. To sentence yourself to a life without your family.”
“No. It’s not anywhere near being sufficient.”
“And your sister? Your folks?”
“What about them?”
“Aren’t you punishing them too, by leaving and staying away?” He hated the truth in Hank’s words, echoing a question he’d asked himself again and again over the years.
“They’re better off,” he whispered, turning away from Hank and his overwhelming presence. He didn’t want his words, his comfort, his touch. He didn’t want his absolution.
“What now?” He didn’t have to face Hank to know that he’d stepped closer, that inexplicable connection, that odd string between them, pulling at him.
“I said they’re better off. Look, Hank, I’m grateful—” He nearly lost his balance as two hands landed on his waist and turned him effortlessly. Forcefully.
“Don’t give me that crap, kid. I’m too old for that. I don’t want your gratitude.”
“No? What do you want then? Another go at my ass?” Finn spat, well aware that this man, who’d been nothing but kind to him, didn’t deserve his crude words. And yet, he was unable to stop himself.
“Don’t be like that. This ain’t about me, Finn. It’s about you and what you’re doing to yourself. You’re punishing yourself for somethin’ that ain’t your fault.” As calm as Hank’s voice remained, his grip around Finn’s waist was steady, his fingers digging into his obliques and as much as he hated it—hated himself for it—he felt himself getting hard.
“I swear to God, Hank, if you say that one more time, I’m…” His entire body shivered by now, and he loathed himself for just wanting to lean against the broad warm chest in front of him and just let it take some of this weight off him. Just for a second.
“You’re what? You’re gonna take a swing at me? Or you’re gonna leave?” Wiggling free, he stepped backward, his shins connecting with the railing as he pointed an accusing finger between them.
“Jesus fucking Christ. And what about you? What about you, old man?” He spat.
“What about me?”
“Aren’t you punishing yourself, too? Living like a fucking… living in the shadows ofhim.“ He knew it was a low blow bringing Eugene into this, but he felt cornered, like a rabid dog, trying to fight its way out.
“This ain’t about me,” Hank repeated quietly, and if it hadn’t been for the darkening in his hazel eyes, Finn would’ve thought that Hank was unaffected by his words. “You can’t make this about me just by mentioningmygrief,mypain.” Hank slammed a hand against his chest, just above his heart. “And you’re right. Ihavebeen punishing myself. For living when he ain’t. For getting older when he won’t. Heck, for smilin’ when he can’t. When he won’t ever again. And that’s wrong. I see that now. I don’t wanna do that anymore.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not you, Hank. Sometimes it’s just not possible to see the silver lining, I guess. Perhaps you can make it work, day in and day out, going about your small-town life, but I can’t. I’m not that good at pretending.”
“Does that usually work for you? I guess it must have, in the past, since you do it?” Hank brushed at his beard, taking Finn in.
“What?” he spat.
“Pushing people away. Seeing how far you can push them before they make up their minds that you’re not worth it.”
“Oh, what? Now you suddenly have a fucking psychology degree, is that it?” Fuck, he was relentless, wasn’t he? So relentless, this small-town mind reader.
“You see, the thing is, it won’t work. Not with me. There ain’t nothin’ you can say or do to push me away. Because I know the real you. I see the real you and this ain’t it. So, you can quit with the whole asshole act. The whole me-against-the-world crap. It won’t work.”
“Is that so?” He recognized the subtle tremble in his voice, and he wondered if Hank could hear it too.
“It is.”
“So, who am I then?” He tipped his chin defiantly, although he felt the resistance dissolving inside.
“You’re Finn the Hun. You’re the guy who goes out into the woods every mornin’ to look for those goddamn mourning doves, even though they’re the dullest birds you’ll ever see. You’re the guy whose face lights up like a Christmas display when he talks about WWII fighter planes. You’re the guy who’s sentenced himself to a life of drifting about because he made a mistake. And you’re the guy who lets an old asshole like me fuck him, even though he could have anyone with that perky ass and that million-dollar smile.”Okay, then.
“Well, I guess you see what you wanna see, Hank. Look, I don’t wanna talk about it. Can we just let this go?”
