“What now?” Colton spoke so much—too much—like his uncle at that moment.
“The song,” Finn rasped, his voice heavy with withheld sadness, his eyes burning. “Il Cielo in una Stanza. That’s what it’s called.” The pair of them looked like he’d grown a pair of horns or tentacles instead of arms and legs. “I’ll walk home, I think,” he murmured, nodding at Henry. “See you later.”
“But… the ride?”
“Nah, I’m good. I feel like walking.”I feel like walking and never stopping.Perhaps he really had stayed too long; the past and the present starting to blend more with each day spent in Hayley’s. Suddenly, spring seemed so far away, the loss of Cara itching like an old wound. A wound that wouldn’t heal until he spoke those words to her and their parents that he’d never spoken.I’m sorry. I’m sorry. So, so sorry. Please forgive me. Please.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hank
Now
Something had been up with Finn for the last couple of days, his mood more like when he’d first entered Hank’s life, quiet and withdrawn. In his desperation to find out what was going on, he’d even asked Henry if something had happened the other day at the clinic. Henry had recounted their afternoon and aside from Finn leaving rather abruptly, he’d been in a great mood. When Hank had asked Henry to define abruptly, Henry had mentioned something about some Italian song that Finn seemed to know. That the song might’ve upset him in some way, leaving Hank none the wiser.
So, to pull Finn out of his funk, Hank had insisted—despite the snow falling without end for three days in a row—that they go down to Tilly’s to put a smile back on his face. Tilly’s chronically good mood and incredible stories usually had that effect on people, often the only thing getting Hank through those early days when he would just miss Eugene to the point of not being able to breathe.
The diner was buzzing as usual when they entered. Saturdays were always the busiest day of the week, aside from Sunday morning after church when the good people of Hayley’s needed to indulge in sugar, caffeine, and fat after Pastor Midlake’s sermon. Two guys Hank hadn’t seen before, but that he would bet were city folk from their attire, were deeply engrossed in conversation with Tilly, their faces coated with expressions of equal parts disbelief and mesmerized attention.
“And that’s the last anyone heard of him until the spring of ’59 when the creek thawed,” Tilly paused dramatically, her eyebrows lifted for extra effect. “There he lay in his Sunday’s best and Ginny Gordon finally found out why he never showed up for their date.”
“Hombre.” one of the guys, who looked to be late twenties, slammed the counter, causing a few regulars to look up from their pancakes and coffee.
“Hombre, indeed,” Tilly repeated, pronouncing thehlike a tourist in a bar in Panama City.
“I’m not sure about this, Hank,” Finn murmured next to him, backing a few steps toward the entrance. “It’s pretty crowded today, don’t you think?”
“Nah, c’mon,” Hank pulled at his right coat sleeve. “We don’t gotta stay long. Just for a cup and a chat. Looks like Til’s on fire today, new audience an’ all.” Hank nodded at the couple at the counter, both wearing thin black leather jackets and fashionably torn jeans. One was wearing what appeared to be a pair ofpurple leather ankle boots covered in rhinestones, which made a piss poor attempt at a winter boot, and the other guy, a pair of Chucks to make it worse.Jesus.
“Okay, Hank, but you owe me one,” Finn sighed, the pronounced dark half-moons under his eyes giving him a frail appearance. Hank’s arms were itching to wrap him up in a bear hold and squeeze him tightly against his chest. It was something that came over Hank more often these days—also in public—the urge to touch Finn. To reach for his hand instinctively, tangling their fingers together, or put his arm reassuringly—and slightly possessively, perhaps—around Finn’s shoulders. And today wasn’t any different. Finn had been having nightmares again the last couple of nights, wrestling the comforter next to Hank like it was some faceless enemy, calling out for Cara, repeatingsorry, sorry,andplease,whimpering against Hank’s chest when he would pull him against him, his entire being shivering, tears clinging to the desperate moths. It was pure torture, that’s what it was, to see Finn like this. In the morning over breakfast, he shied away from talking about his dreams when Hank prodded at him to talk about it, that look of sheer helplessness from those first days in Hayley’s back in his eyes.
“My oh my, if it ain’t my favorite boys,” Tilly cooed, and Hank couldn’t help wincing at theboy.He was a little old for that and his stupid brain automatically added agoodin front of it, the sweet phantom scent of Finn’s climax entering his nostrils. “Get over here and meet my new friends, Lulu and Xavi. It was Xavi, right hon?” she smiled at the bigger of the two.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied politely, his deep, raspy voice nearly causing Tilly to swoon and melt into the floor behind the counter from the looks of it.
“Dontcha ma’am me, young man. It’s Tilly or Til if you wanna get frisky,” she said, winking fondly.
For Pete’s sake. He was starting to agree with Finn that this wasn’t the greatest of ideas, but it was too late now, Tilly already moving on with the introductions.
“Hank, Finn, meet Lulu and Xavi. They’re all the way from… Buffalo, New York, wasn’t it?”
“Sí, guapa,”purred the smaller guy, who was apparently Lulu—if that was even a name unless you were a cat—and sticking out his hand in Finn’s direction. A rapid succession of Spanish words followed as Finn took his hand, and the larger guy, Xavi, groaninglay off, hermano,an annoyed frown between his prominent brows.
“Lulu Ésteban de Santiago at your service,” he smiled broadly, his lips shimmering with some pink ivory stuff, an equally pink headband holding a head of black curls in place. His slim hand wrapped around Finn’s sported long slender fingers, nails covered with a layer of bright green nail varnish. Hank hadn’t noticed that he’d wrapped an arm around Finn’s shoulders as soon as Lulu had reached for Finn’s hand, but the newcomer raised a black, carefully groomed eyebrow questioningly, his honey-brown eyes alert and playful. Releasing Finn’s hand, he pointed a manicured fingernail between them.
“Oh, I see,titi.He your Daddy?”He smirked at Finn, tipping his chin at Hank. “Good for you,guapo.” he winked knowingly.
“Joder,” the guy called Xavi groaned. “Will you knock it off? We’re not inNoches Habaneras, hermano. You can’t go around talking to strangers like that.”
“It’s okay,” Finn spoke softly, shifting on his feet next to Hank, leaning closer to his side, a little color returning to his pale cheeks. “We’re just friends,” he added. They were, weren’t they?Friends.Perhaps with a little extra. And still, the word felt hollow and insufficient. A mockery almost.
“See?” Lulu chirped. “He don’t mind.” He offered Xavi a knowing look. “Some of us don’t.”
“What was that?” Xavi leaned closer, his energetic sidekick shifting in his seat.
“Nothing,” Lulu whispered, his cheeks turning scarlet, his eyelids hooded. What the hell was going on?
“That’s what I thought,” Xavi warned.
