He’d missed the comfort of a familiar tongue. The way it clicked inside, like a square peg going into a square hole. Like slipping into the arms of a favourite, well-worn t-shirt all soft and stretchy from age and multiple spin cycles. Ireland had been perfect for what he’d needed two years ago, but now that he’d read his father’s letter and confronted the emotional baggage of that time, maybe it was time to return to Australia?
He was clearly homesick. But he hadn’t been prior to the Gold Coast. Had he? Maybe being back was having a cumulative effect? Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe this… restlessness was a symptom of something deeper?
Sighing heavily, he closed his fingers around the ring and pocketed it. It had been an exhausting weekend—game wise and giant fuck-off bed wise—and he was utterly spent. There was no point trying to figure out any of this now—Sweeneyorhis sudden bout of homesickness. They weren’t issues he could solve on a two-hour flight. They were the kind of issues he probably needed to talk about, but the person he wanted to talk about them with had just buggered off to Indonesia and who knew where after that.
Then, as if his cousin had peered inside his head from twelve rows back and discerned Fin’s mental gymnastics, Donny appeared, squeezing past the person in the aisle seat and plonking his ass down.
‘You okay, dude? You missing Sweeney?’
Which made the hundredth time today someone had asked him that question. ‘Absolutely,’ he replied, the only answer a loving fiancé could give.
Despite his sudden hankering for home, Fin suddenly couldn’t wait to be flying away from their mothers’ shit show of a lie.
‘I still can’t believe you two are a thing.’
Fin shot his cousin a derisive smile. ‘Took us by surprise as well.’
‘What a weekend, huh?’ Donny shook his head, clearly moving on.
‘Yeah.’ Fin smiled. ‘It was an amazing experience. Thanks to Mai. She was the true driving force behind all this.’
Donny smiled smugly. ‘I’m a lucky guy.’
He had no idea. ‘Yeah.’ Fin sobered, suddenly envious of his cousin’s unremarkable suburban life. ‘Don’t screw it up.’
Frowning, Donny stared quizzically at Fin. ‘Is there something up with you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Fin dismissed, forcing a smile. ‘Just tired.’
Donny didn’t say anything for long moments, just regarded Fin with a serious expression. ‘You know you can talk to me, right?’
Fin blinked. Donny had perfected the class clown persona in primary school and hadn’t truly relinquished the red nose and floppy shoes, so this was a turnaround. He didn’t know what was stranger—his cousin so earnest or the fact he was actually contemplating confiding in him. Not about the Sweeney stuff but maybe about the other.
‘Okay, who are you and what have you done with Donny?’
‘What? I can be serious.’
Fin narrowed his eyes in faux suspicion. ‘Donny?’ he said, grasping his cousin by the arms and giving him a shake. ‘Donny? If you’re in there, blink twice.’
Donny rolled his eyes and went one better. Two, actually, as he flipped Fin both his middle fingers. ‘I have depths,’ he protested.
Fin almost laughed out loud. Donny was as deep as a puddle.
‘They’re just…’ Donny shrugged. ‘Unplumbed.’
Unplumbed? Unhinged, more like it. But, sighing, Fin decided to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt. He stared out the window for a beat before he returned his attention to Donny. ‘I’m thinking of… moving back home.’
Donny’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. ‘To your mother’s?’
‘No.’ Fin rolled his eyes. ‘To Australia. Melbourne maybe?’
A big grin split across his cousin’s face. ‘Melbourne? Yeah?’
Fin laughed at the barely concealed glee in his expression. ‘Maybe,’ he said noncommitally, in case Donny got all gungho and CafePressed the shit out of an entire range ofwe’re getting the gang back togethermerch.
‘Why?’
‘I think my itchy feet aren’t so itchy anymore.’
