“Shit, you're right.” Finn leaned back against the counter and sighed. “Okay, cliff notes version: my parents are kind of assholes who don't understand why Jamie being deaf isn't a tragedy that needs to be fixed. They keep pushing for surgeries and interventions he doesn't want, and they make him feel like he's broken. So he lives with Gramps most of the time, and I visit whenever I'm not traveling for hockey.”
“That's rough,” I said quietly. “But it sounds like he's lucky to have you and your grandfather looking out for him.”
“Yeah, well. He's the best kid I know, so it's not exactly a hardship.” Finn's expression softened again the way it alwaysdid when he talked about Jamie. “I just wish our parents would pull their heads out of their asses long enough to see how amazing he is exactly the way he is.”
“Some people can't see past their own shit to recognize what actually matters.”
“Speaking from experience?”
I probably should have deflected, should have steered the conversation back to safer territory. But Finn's honesty made me want to return it, at least a little bit.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “My parents were a fucking disaster. Still are, actually. But my siblings and I figured it out without them.”
“How many siblings?”
“Three. I'm the oldest.”
Finn's eyes widened slightly. “You raised three kids? Fucking hell, man. How old were you when you took over?”
“Eighteen.” I said it like it was no big deal, even though we both knew it absolutely was.
“That's insane. I can barely take care of myself at twenty-three, and you were out here parenting multiple humans as a teenager.” He shook his head, looking at me with something that might have been respect. “That's seriously impressive.”
“It's just what needed to happen.” I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “Someone had to do it.”
“Yeah, but most people wouldn't have.” Finn was quiet for a second, and then he said, “You ever have one of those moments where you realize you've been putting off doing the thing you know you need to do, and the longer you wait the worse it gets?”
I looked up from my tea, suddenly very aware of where this might be going. “Yeah. Why?”
“I don't know.” He shrugged, staring down into his mug like the answer was floating in there somewhere. “I've just been thinking a lot lately about regret. About the things I didn't say or do because I was scared or stupid or convinced there'd be moretime later. And then later comes and it's too late, and you're stuck with the weight of it.”
“You think it's ever too late?” I asked quietly.
Finn looked up at me, and his expression was surprisingly serious. “I don't know. Maybe? But I think not trying is worse than trying and failing. At least then you know.”
We sat there in silence for a minute, both of us holding our tea and carrying our own versions of things we hadn't said yet. Then Finn's phone buzzed and he checked it, his face shifting back into something lighter.
“I've got to head out for practice soon,” he said, standing up and rinsing his mug in the sink. “But thanks for working with Jamie. Seriously.”
“Anytime.” I stood up too, grabbing my bag and following him toward the front door. “And thanks for the tea. And the unsolicited life advice.”
Finn grinned. “I'm full of wisdom. It's a gift.”
I drove homewith his words rattling around in my head.
I'd spent years surviving by handling what was in front of me and putting off the harder conversations until later. But Rowan had always belonged to the category of things I kept pushing aside, convincing myself there'd be time to deal with it eventually.
Maybe later had finally run out.
I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building and sat there with the engine off, staring at my phone. I could call him. Right now. Could stop putting this off and deal with the mess I'd made.
My hand was shaking slightly when I pulled out my wallet and unfolded the napkin. The number stared back at me in Rook's clean, precise handwriting, and I felt my chest tighten with a feeling that might have been fear or hope or just exhaustion from carrying this weight for so damn long.
I needed to call Rook.
Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not when I'd figured out the perfect thing to say or convinced myself I was ready.
Now.
