Page 2 of War Hope
"Please.” I roll my eyes. “Until just now, he was the king. He just lost his crown."
She laughs and I stand up, putting my glass in the kitchen before I hug her. She kisses my cheek. "Bye lovey."
"Have fun at bingo. Show Opal who the champ is.” I leave Doris’ apartment and climb in my car, heading straight for The Pit.
**break***
Athickcloud of smokesurrounds me the second I walk into Larry's bar. I can hearKyan'sloud laugh over the lull of conversation and tinker of glasses. I walk straight to the bar, ignoring the grotty old men giving me the eye.
"Howyou doing, treacle?"Kyanasks, lifting a glass of beer.
I smile as I take a seat at the bar. "Alright."
"How's Poppy?"
"Alright..." And asullensilencefalls over usbecausetalking aboutPoppy reminds usall ofwhathappened.ItremindsusofBrandon. That he's gone.That allofus failed him becausenoneof us sawit coming, and as friends, shouldn't we have seen that coming?
MadameWrinkleshopsuponto the counter, slinkingaround the glassesonherwayto see me.Herpinkwrinkly skin glistens underthe dimbar lightsand Imoveawayjust before she brushes her hairless self against my forearm.
"PoorMadameWrinkles,"Kyansays, patting over her back,"she maybe ugly butshe still needslove, Hope."Hesnickersand I roll my eyes.
"Herskin'sgross and loose, like an old man's ballbag."
Kyanlooks at meas he grabs the cat andplacesher inhislap. "If you weren'ta ginger,I'dsayyou weremy soulmate."
"Fuck off."I shove him andhefalls onto thestool, the legsscratchingover the uneven floor.
A loud round of applause suddenly breaks out and Iglance over to the side of the room to see Finn shouldering his way through the crowded pub, holding his ribs. His face is drenched in sweat, his dark hair matted to his forehead. His lip is busted. Blood tricklesover his defined jawline.
It'sbeenmonthssince I've seen himand he looks like shit.Poppy hasn't heard from him, but I guesshe just didn't want to bother her. From what I can tell, he's pretty much dropped off the face of the earth. He's Finn.Strong, silent Finn. I assumed he was just doing what he always does—keeping to himself,until nowthat is. He looks like he's been to hell and back.
Kyanstands up. "'Did you beat his arse?"he yells.
Finn glances atKyan, his jaw clenched and his eyes swirling with something turbulent and raw. And for a second, all I see is Brandon:the anger and the pain, the lack of control. "Yeah," he mumblesbefore hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder, gritting his teeth ashe does.
Iglancedownat his side, noticing the way he hunches over. "Finn..."I shove a drunk, fat man out of the way andsendhimstumblingto the side. Grabbing Finn's shirt, I yank it up. His entire side is purple and blue. "Jesus Christ, can you fucking breath?"
Hetenses his jaw andglares at me with his nostrils flaringas heyankshis shirt from my hand. "I'm fine."
"I'll take that as an 'it's kind of hard'.You need to go to A&E."
"I'm fine," he repeats, his voice just as flat as his cold expression.
I laugh and grab his hand, which he promptly snatches away. I turn and glare at him. "You are not fine.Stop trying to be a fucking caveman." I grab his hand again and lead him through to the exit.The cool night air whips around us when we step out of the pub andonto the sidewalk, andhe yanks his damn hand away again.
"Hope, just leave it." This isn't him. Finn is brooding and quiet, surly even, but he's not cold. He's not angry, in fact, he was always the calm one. Hell, hewas the one that kept a lid on Brandon half the time.
I press my shoulders backand huff before I grab him by his earlobe and squeeze. He flinches. "I'm taking you to A&E."
"Fuck, Hope." He tries to fight me, but what with hisinjuredribs, he can't.I keepaholdof his ear as we walk toward my car. I click the lock,thealarmbeeps, andI open the door,basically cramminghiminsideandslamming the door shut.
I get in the driver'sside and lock the doors—just in case, thenstart the car and pull out intothelate eveningtraffic.Iglance at Finn,watchinghim flinchandclench his jaw with every bump in the road. As per usual,hesays nothing.
"What's going on with you?" I ask,fiddling with my mirror.
Again, nothing. Fuck me, he's exhausting.He's never been one to talk, but shit—
"Jesus fuck..." He points at the road and I turn and look, yanking the wheel just before I slam into a parked car.
