“Finnie,” she coaxed, and some of his anxiety vanished when she called him by the name of their childhood and youth. It couldn’t be all bad, could it? “Tell me.” As if she’d pushed a secret button, tears dropped from his eyes and started streaming down his cheeks, his chin, and his neck. A sound resembling awhine spilled from his lips and he felt like dropping to his knees, banging his head against the hardwood floorboards until there was nothing to hear. Nothing to see. Nothing to feel. But then a timbre voice broke through the roaring noises, barely audible at first, until it grew in volume and became so overpowering that there was room for nothing else. A voice so unwavering and firm, fondness seeping through the deep bass.
‘You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, Finn? Such a beautiful, beautiful boy.’
“Finnie?”
“I’m sorry,” he croaked, tears gathering on his lips, intermingling with his words.
“I know you are.” Cara was crying now too, and he took a step closer, his boots nearly touching her chair.
“I’m so sorry, Cara,” he cried, regarding his sister, trails of tears streaking her face. Her only reply was to grab his hand in hers, squeezing it impossibly tight.
“I know you are,” she spoke softly. “I know you are.” Dropping to his knees in front of her, he looked into her eyes pleadingly, a muddy brown meeting the palest of blue.
“Please forgive me,” he hiccupped. “Please.” Through a curtain of tears, he watched his sister’s familiar face, her mouth twisting with pain. With sorrow. With regret. But not with anger. There was no anger.
“Oh, Finnie,” she whispered, reaching out her other hand and brushing a lock of hair behind his left ear. “There’s nothing to forgive, you silly boy,” she half laughed, half cried. He’d already known that she was going to say that. Of course he had. But her words left him unfulfilled, his all-consuming guilt still holding him in its fierce grasp. Like a famished beast that would never be sated no matter how manyit’s okaysyou fed it. So, he spoke those words that were waiting inside of him. That had been waiting inside of him for more than eight years.
“But Ineedit. Please, Cara. Ineedyour forgiveness.” His sister swiped furiously at her tears, clear snot pooling below her nostrils, as she nodded in understanding.
“Then you have it. On one condition.”
“What?” the desperate edge to his voice didn’t escape him, hope wrestling against despair inside.
“That you forgive yourself, too. Because that’s whatIneed, Finn. More than anything. I need my brother back. My Finnie. And not some ghost version of you, but therealyou.”
“I… I’ll try,” he sobbed, those goddamn tears like an unstoppable river now that the dam had broken.
“That’s not good enough.” She tipped her chin in defiance.
“Cara…” His other hand found hers, too, and his gaze flickered from her eyes to her wheelchair, then back again.
“I mean it, Finn. I don’t want yourI’m sorriesunless you forgive yourself in return. Otherwise, this won’t work,” she pointed her index finger between them. “I can’t be the source of all your regret and self-loathing. I don’t want this chair to be a constant reminder of your debt because there is none.” She started sobbing. “I can’t be around you if I know you pity me and hate yourself. I don’t think I deserve that. Neither do you.”
Her pale eyes turned a shade darker, and he recognized that look from so many times before. It was the look that meantI know you want the last piece of cake, Finn, but you won’t say so because you know I want it, too.Just as pointless as it had always been back then, he realized it was equally fruitless right now to try to change his sister’s mind. Once Cara had decided on something, there was no way in hell that you would be able to convince her otherwise.
“You mean it?” He looked at her, her face sincere and resolute.
“I mean it.”
“Okay,” he nodded in resignation, that feeling of hope inside blooming, light and relief spreading through his limbs. “Okay,” he breathed. “Please forgive me, Cara.”
“I forgive you, Finn. Now please forgive yourself.” She released his hands and rested hers against his stubbled cheeks instead. “Please.” The words came easier than he’d thought, as if they’d always just been there, just on the tip of his tongue, ready long before he was.
“I forgive myself,” he spoke, a newfound calm washing over him as he lay his head in Cara’s lap, resting his cheek against her thigh. “I forgive myself,” he murmured as her fingers found his hair and trailed through the strands, brushing over his scalp soothingly.
“Thank you,” Cara sighed. “Thank you, Finnie.” Then she chuckled quietly, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard; his entire future resided in that sound. “Welcome home, brother.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Hank
Now
“So, what’s up?” Colton swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, giving the Hyundai one last brush with the polishing cloth. Taking a step back, Hank inspected the car, tilted his head, and nodded appreciatively at Colton’s efforts. The bump on the right front side was no longer noticeable, and the repair was followed by a paint job done to a T. It was their last job before closing the shop for the holidays, with Christmas only five days away. Finn had been gone for nine days, time dragging by at a snail’s pace. Not that Hank was counting, or anything like that.
“Not much,” Hank shrugged, rearranging some oil cans and some buckets of paint, trying to make the shelves look somewhattidy. Finn would throw a fit if he saw how carelessly Hank and Colton had treatedhisshelves since he’d left, but just like everything else, they were amiss after Finn had gone back to Oregon. Just like Hank’s house, and his bed and his… yeah.
“Not much, huh? Any word from the kid?”
