It didn’t take long for the news to travel and, soon, a familiar truck pulled up at the curb. She should have expected that he would be the first to check on her—perhaps the only one who cared enough to come by.
The engine shut off and his heavy work boots hit the pavement. Finn slammed the door and looked at her, a sad smile on his face. He paused at the end of the freshly shoveled walk. “You okay?”
She shrugged, unsure what she was at that moment. She was alive. That was more than she could say for her father.
Her fingers curled around the wooden handle, pressing the firm stick into her knees like a seatbelt on a ride as if it might keep her from falling out. Finn hesitated and she sensed he wanted to comfort her but was unsure how.
She’d done that. She forced that awkward distance between them.
By the end of their relationship, long before Mallory or any of his children were even a twinkle in his eye, she had forced walls up between them and broken any closeness they once shared. Finn would try to touch her and she would shoulder him off, unable to bear even the slightest physical contact.
Her body was constantly sore with bruises and she’d withdraw, exhausted with the excuses for why she was wearing long sleeves in August or wouldn’t put on a bathing suit in June. Finn would see the evidence of abuse on her and she’d play it off like she was the clumsiest girl in Jasper Falls, but deep down she believed he knew. And as much as she wanted him to save her, she was terrified any attempt to help might make her life that much worse.
He lowered to the stoop, sitting beside her but not touching her. Together, they stared at the walk, an occasional flurry floating like a feather through the cold air.
She missed his presence but wasn’t sure if she could honestly claim she missed him. It was just nice to feel like someone cared about her.
The problem with Finn was that he never did anything half-assed. He cared too much. Erin couldn’t be what he needed and no amount of caring in the world would change who she was. He needed someone who could love him back. She had loved him enough to make sure he got that—even if it left her all alone in the end.
At first, the distance hurt. He took it personally and didn’t understand her moods, didn’t understand why she was pushing him away. He cared too much, asked too many questions—things she couldn’t answer and didn’t dare to say.
Eventually, he just accepted that she was mostly a miserable person. She hated that he thought of her that way, but it was for the best. If she tried to be nicer, he’d hang onto hope that his love might one day smooth all her jagged edges, and that simply wasn’t possible. She couldn’t let him waste his time trying to fix her because he would only end up resenting her when he learned some people couldn’t be changed.
You always wanted too much from me, she wished she had the courage to say, but he probably didn’t even think about their past anymore. These were her scars to bear.
I never wanted you to see the real me, but you wanted so much closeness, she wanted to explain. The thought pushed a tear past her lashes.
Of course, he silently handed her…his glove.
She frowned at it and glanced at him in question.
“I don’t have tissues or a hankie.”
“Thanks. Hankies are gross anyway.”
He chuckled and bumped her with his shoulder. “Blow your nose if you have to. I’ve got others.”
She blotted her eyes with the broken-in material and breathed in the nostalgic scent of Finnegan McCullough. Sometimes she wondered if her decision to leave him had been self-preservation or pure self-destruction.
She’d run into the arms of men who didn’t care as deeply. She found the comfort she so desperately needed with strangers. The shallow connections she found were bite-sized pieces of intimacy she could easily digest. Those men didn’t care if she smiled or if she lay silent and sad. They didn’t care if she talked or stared blankly at a wall. They just wanted the physical contact and that was all she could handle.
Finn had needed more. He grew up in a loving home and craved a deeper love she couldn’t give.
Looking at him now, her eyes prickled with more unwelcomed tears. Let him believe her tears were for her dad. She’d rather that than have him know she still cried over him.
She’d broken Finn’s heart a lifetime ago and no matter how many times he’d asked why, she only ever fed him lies. She didn’t deserve his kindness and concern now yet here he was—dependable, loyal Finn.