“Yeah.” Hank let go of his hand, pointing at the water, Finn feeling the absence of his touch immediately. “Look at their large golden eyes. They’re somethin’, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, sure are.” But Finn wasn’t looking at the water anymore; the fish, as spectacular as they were, were bland and uninteresting compared to the man standing next to him, his silvery beard glistening in the sun. Finn had always preferred silver over gold, anyway.
“Come spring, I’ll take you fishin’,” Hank blurted, his eyes connecting with Finn’s. Simultaneously, they both seemed to realize what Hank had just said. Nodding, Finn reached out, tangling his fingers with Hank’s. It was the first time he’d done that aside from in the throes of passion, but somehow, he needed to feel connected to Hank right now.
“Yeah, maybe there’s time before I leave,” he muttered. “Before I go home.”
“Home?” Hank’s eyes widened, his thick fingers squeezing around Finn’s.
“Yeah, I think you’re right, old man. I need to make peace with the past or something like it.” Hank nodded, his gaze moving back to the water.
“Yeah, guess it can’t hurt,” Hank smiled. “Maybe I oughta do the same.”
“I thought you said you already had?”
“Yeah, well, guess I’m full of it, too, aren’t I? Takes a bullshitter to know one, I guess.” Finn chuckled at Hank’s simple logic.
“You can talk to me, you know,” he murmured, reaching out his right hand, brushing his fingertips against the corner of Hank’s mouth. “About him. Eugene.” Hank nodded slowly, swallowing audibly, his Adam’s apple moving up and down behind his corded neck.
“I don’t like talkin’ about him,” Hank whispered, his eyes remaining fixated on Finn.
“Why not? Why not, Hank?” Tears pressed behind his eyes, his mouth dry.
“I already have so little of him left,” he whispered. “With each passing day, I seem to lose a little more. I… I can’t even remember his voice anymore,” Hank breathed, his voice wobbly, a small sob lingering at the end of the sentence. “His laughter. I know it was my favorite sound in the world, but I can’t remember it anymore. Even when I search my mind and my heart, I can’t find it. I’m afraid of the day when I can’t find him anymore, Finn.”
“Hank…” Finn took a step closer, the toes of their boots touching.
“I’m afraid that if I share the last few things about him I have left, I’ll lose him altogether. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just wanna keep a few things to myself, you know?” Finn nodded, closing the final bit of space between them, resting his forehead against Hank’s.
“Yeah, I get that. I do,” he murmured against Hank’s lips. “But maybe it’d become easier to remember if you shared him with people. Maybe you’d even learn new things about him. Things you didn’t know.”
“How so?” There was a hopeful lilt to Hank’s gruff voice.
“Maybe people around town, you know, like Til or Vernon; maybe they remember things about Eugene, too.” Finn didn’t know if he was making any sense, but he was driven by some deep-seated need to do something for this man who’d done so much for him. To give him something in return. “Or maybe if you talk to me about him… Maybe then you’ll suddenly remember things you thought you’d forgotten about him. About Eugene.”
Hank nodded against his forehead, his beard brushing softly against Finn’s cheek and chin.
“Yeah, maybe,” he spoke against Finn’s lips. “Maybe I can tell you about him sometime.” Closing his eyes, he sucked in a clipped breath. Reaching out his arms, he wrapped themaround Finn’s waist and drew him against him. Burying his face in Finn’s neck, he exhaled, sending tiny sparks through Finn’s entire body, once again breathing life back into that tiny flame that he’d tried so hard to extinguish for eight years.Hope.“Thank you, Finn,” he murmured, his breath warm and moist against Finn’s skin. “Thank you.”Thankyou, Hank. Thankyou.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hank
Now
“So, what’s the deal with you and the stray?” Colton threw a greasy rag that he’d just been polishing a pair of headlights with directly at Hank, hitting him square in the forehead. His hazel eyes were filled with mischief. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to Hank that his nephew had decided to go there—he’d wondered when he would build up enough nerve to do it. He knew that he and Finn were the talk around town; of course he did. But the rag?
“What the hell!” Hank squinted at his nephew, who threw him an obnoxious grin in return. To think how Colton had worn the war—hiswar—like a heavy cloak four years ago when he’dcome to Hayley’s. The transformation he’d gone through, joking and hassling Hank daily at the shop. There was no limit to the amount of admiration that Hank held for him. He was damn proud of Colton for not only picking up the pieces of his ruined life, but also for embracing his sexuality and his love for young Henry. And to imagine that his nephew would be a married man soon…
Picking up the rag, he placed it on the workbench next to him, a smug grin lingering at the corner of Colton’s mouth while he crossed his tattooed arms in front of his chest.
“Whatcha mean,stray?” Hank countered.
“Huckleberry, then,” Colton smirked, leaning his right hip against the hood of the Jeep Cherokee they’d gotten in this morning after a run-in with a deer.
“Wow, that’s rich. That the best you can come up with?” Hank tipped his chin. He might be smaller than his nephew, but this spring chicken had another thing coming if he thought he could shake him with his innuendoes. “There’s no deal,” Hank continued, his voice unfazed, his face stoic. “He’s stayin’ with me over the winter, and that’s that.” Of course, that wasn’t exactlythat,andbullshitwas written all over Colton’s face as he nodded, a knowing hum coming from his mouth.
“Whatever you say, Uncle,” he grinned, wiping at his three-day-old beard. “Whatever you say…”
