“I wish you felt differently.” I step toward her, leaning in to drop a kiss on her cheek. My lips linger before I dig deep for strength to walk away. “Merry Christmas, Finley.”
I wish I felt differently too, because this ache in my chest, it’s damn near killing me.
28
Finley
The sun filters intothe gym four hours after I arrive on Christmas morning.
I couldn’t sleep last night after the party. Not when I tried again and again to call Zach, only to have it kick over to voicemail every time. He probably shut his phone off, not wanting to deal with me. I still can’t stop seeing the sad puppy dog look on his face. I wish he’d lashed out, yelled at me for not telling him what he wanted to know, then I could be angry at him for pressuring me.
Instead, I hate myself.
Once I tell him about my bipolar disorder, everything will change. He might leave me. Or worse, he’ll sacrifice himself—his happiness—because he loves me. He might not see it as a sacrifice, but Zach Briggs has the entire world in the palm of his hand. He doesn’t need to saddle himself with my complications. I’ve been selfish not to tell him, to give him the chance to walk away from my mess.
I leap from the low bar to the high, pushing off the balls of my feet and effortlessly catching it. My body propels around the high bar, once, twice, then I let go to complete two layouts before my feet land solidly on the mat.
A slow clap echoes off the gym walls. I turn, my heart in my throat, hoping it’s Zach behind me. My stomach sinks to the floor when my brother’s glare greets me instead. He leans against the balance beam about fifty feet from me, dressed in matching black Palmer City Wolves sweatpants and sweatshirt with absurdly white sneakers.
“I would’ve bet any amount of money you snuck out last night to see Briggs, but you’ve been keeping an even bigger secret.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “How did you find me?”
“You’re on my phone plan, Finley. I can track your phone. I could’ve tracked it since you moved in, but I trusted you to stick to the agreement.”
I’m such an idiot. All this time, I’d never once thought about this possibility.
Hurt flashes across his features, but it’s gone in a blink, replaced by unnerving calm. Matt waves a hand around the gym. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since I was five years old.”
“You know what I mean.”
I shrug. “It’s the reason I came here. Well this, and to escape the house I’ve been trapped in for two years.”
“So you used me.”
“What if someone tried to take hockey away from you?” I shout.
“Hockey isn’thurtingme.” Matt matches my tone.
“You’re shitting me, right? Injuries are handed out with salaries in your sport.”
I shake my head, disappointed he can’t put himself in my shoes. Our age difference kept us from being close as kids, but asa fellow athlete, I expected him to have a baseline understanding of what gymnastics means to me.
“This isn’t about me,” he says.
“Of course it is!” I throw my arms into the air, chalk shooting out around me. “Everything in my life is about you, and Mom and Dad, and Charlie and Ryan. No one cares how my bipolar disorder affectsme.How could you when none of you will talk to me about it? It was easier to strip my life of anything that could potentially put me at risk.
“My life isn’t my own. My only option was to lie, since no one in this family gives a shit enough to ask me how I’m doing or what I want.”
Matt walks toward me. “Finley, do you have any idea what it was like getting the call from Mom when they found you unresponsive in the gym? She couldn’t get the words out because she was crying so hard. I thought you weredead.”
I roll my eyes. “I was asleep.”
“You wereunconscious. That’s what they call it when you won’t wake up.”.
“Thanks for the lesson,” I reply. “Did you say everything you need to? I still have another half hour.”
