Page 58 of Bitter Rival

I was frantic, checking for a pulse, trying to hold it together and follow the dispatcher’s instructions until the ambulance arrived.

“I was so scared, Finn. I thought you were going to die.” It’s the first time we’ve spoken since I left New York, so I never really got to tell him what that night at the hospital did to me. “You almost died,” I whisper.

“Hey. It’s all good. I’m still here, thanks to you,” he says, his voice soft. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

If there was a way to turn off my emotions and stop caring about Finn, maybe I’d take that option, but I can’t just turn it on and off like a light switch. “I can’t help it. You’re my family.”

“And you’re mine. Always. My ride or die.”

I used to believe that was true. I used to believe a lot of things. Once upon a time, I thought Finn would be my forever. But now I know better.

“I know I’m the one who fucked it all up,” he says. “But I would do anything to get back what we had.”

He says things like this whenever he’s lonely or feeling low. We loved each other, still do, but our relationship was toxic.

We were just two fucked-up kids who fell in love and stayed together for longer than we should have and for all the wrong reasons.

We stayed because it was familiar. Because we were scared no one else could ever love us. We stayed because we’d gotten accustomed to the pain and heartache.

And how sad is that to think we needed to feel the hurt just to feel alive?

“Finn,” I say softly. “We’re not good for each other. I don’t think love should have to hurt so much, you know?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I know. Just missing you, I guess.”

Vulnerable Finn is almost impossible to resist. It used to get me every time.

When we were teenagers, I would bandage his bruises and sneak him into the house so he would have a soft bed to sleep in and loving arms to hold him when yet another foster parent abused him or kicked him out.

My broken, lost boy…I believed that I alone had the power to fix him.

But you can’t fix another person. All you can do is love them. And I tried. I tried so hard.

But loving Finn took so much out of me that I didn’t have any energy left over for myself and I just can’t do it anymore.

“Take care of yourself. And stay out of trouble,” I say. And then I hang up.

After that phone call, I can’t fall back to sleep, so I end up staring at the ceiling, thinking about Finn, who will swear up and down that he loves me, only to turn around and do something incredibly selfish or hurtful then beg and grovel until I take him back.

My thoughts drift to Beckett who defended me at the bar tonight.

I’ve never seen him so angry. So unhinged. He’s usually so in control of his emotions that it was a shock to see him like that.

I can’t believe he did that for me.

I keep picturing the way he looked at me on the car ride home. Like I was something special to him. Something precious. Not a thorn in his side but someone he would fight for and defend.

How he cracked his knuckles and asked me to name names. He wanted to know who hurt me.

He didn’t sound like someone who hated me. He sounded like he cared.

I saw a glimpse of the boy he used to be and it made my heart ache.

I’m still thinking about him as I creep down the stairs and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I had just enough to drink that I know I’ll be paying for this tomorrow. Or rather, today.

On my way out of the kitchen, I notice a light coming from the study so I pad across the hallway and pause outside the door.

Is he working at this hour?

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