My head twists towards him. “It’s not healthy, Finn. One bad choice and you could end up in a ditch or out in the sea. You could get too cocky and think you can swim to the nearest island. This is really fucking with your head and you know it.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
“I think you have an addiction,” I say bluntly.
He says nothing; all we can hear are the seagulls flying through the air.
“Do you think you have an addiction?”
“Maybe.”
I hum silently. At least he’s not denying it.
“You need to seek professional help, Finn,” I state after a few moments. My entire body moves to face him, but he refuses to look at me. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend. Problems like these don’t just go away.”
His eyes gravitate to the grass. He doesn’t run off, which makes me think I’ve said something right, even if I’m being harsh. I listen to his calm breathing, almost in rhythm with the breeze.
“I didn’t think anyone cared.” His voice is so deflated, it crushes me to pieces.
My arm slides over his shoulders and I tug him into me. “What are you talking about?” I exhale. “I love you like a brother, man. I care about you too much, you’ll think it’s soppy.”
A small laugh falls from his lips, but I know it’s not the time to make jokes. Instead, I keep going because he clearly needs to hear this.
“And I should have been there for you more, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t. But I’m here now, telling you that I’ll support you through your journey of getting better. You are never alone, you have amazing parents, an amazing sister. I get that reaching out is hard, but we will support you regardless.” I give his shoulder a quick squeeze.
Finn swipes a hand through his hair and then nods. “Thank you,” he says, though his voice is strangled. “It’s just hard to accept it for what it is. I know I’m the only person who can make a difference with my life, but sometimes it’s so easy to slip down that hole of self-pity.”
“And we all get like it,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean we have to continue to follow that path.”
He exhales a breath and falls back to the grass. I follow his lead and look up at the sky with him.
“This conversation makes me want a drink,” he grunts. “Is that bad to admit?”
I pause for a moment. “Not bad to admit, only bad if you give in.”
“I think you’d side tackle me if I went to the pub right now.”
A snort falls from me without thinking. “Too right, but I’m here for you,” I say sincerely. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”
He turns to look at me as he sniffles, his eyes looking less pained than they did ten minutes ago. “Yeah, you’re a pretty great friend.”
CHAPTER 34
IVY THOMPSON
When my parents stumble through the door the next day with their thirty suitcases and glowing tans—I have no idea how I pulled the short end of the stick with my pale complexion—I’m relieved to finally see them after what feels like years.
“Sweetheart!” my mother, Andrea, chimes. “You’re home.”
She wraps me in her arms, and I get a whiff of her natural, earthy perfume. When I inhale, it wraps tightly around my heart because she has always smelt the same and it’s a comfort.
“Hi, Mum,” I mumble into her chest. “How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was amazing!” She pulls back. “Wasn’t it, James?”
I turn my head to find my dad gleaming at me. “It’s good to see you, kid,” he says as he walks towards me and ruffles my hair. Then I’m tugged into his hard yet soft chest. “How have you been doing?”
“I’m good,” I say softly. “Enjoying summer before going back to university.”
