Page 48 of Where We Belong

Something moves through me at that damn nickname, and it needs to stop. I can’t have that sort of feeling happening right now. Not after I randomly decided to open up to him about my biggest trauma and somehow didn’t feel horrible afterward.

I don’t know what made me tell him the truth. I always told myself this would be a secret I’d take with me to the grave. Sure, my mother knows, and I think Josie might have guessed some of it, but it’s never been something I wanted to broadcast. I don’t want people to see me as less than because some fucker put his hands on me. It doesn’t define me, even though it does have repercussions, even years later. But when Finn asked, I didn’t consider lying. It was natural, even, to tell the truth. I ask, he answers. He asks, I answer. This type of relationship has always been mysterious to me, yet here I am, spilling my secrets because, for some reason I can’t pinpoint, I trust this man. And while I’d have thought sharing my darkest truths would’ve made me more vulnerable, it hasn’t. I even feel better now that he knows. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to comprehend it.

And once again, he proves how well he can read me by saying what he just did.

When I don’t answer right away, Finn steps forward and takes the balled-up jeans from my hands, dropping them softly to the couch. “What’s back there that you don’t want to see?”

My mouth twitches. In a low voice, I say, “Everything?”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

I meet his eyes, but after a moment, I need to look down and get back to my packing. It’s almost intolerable to be stared at by him. It’s like he can read into every crook and crevice of me, see all the ugly parts I’d rather keep hidden, and drag them out of the shadows.

“My mom’s not winning any mother-of-the-year award anytime soon,” I say, which is a true euphemism. “And I have an older brother… Well, half-brother, and he’s the worst mother-effer you could imagine.” I don’t know what other words I could use to describe Kyle. At thirty-one years old, he still hasn’t figured out how to live without begging my mother for money. “No job, crappy friends, thinks he’s the king of the world,” I add.

A sound comes out of Finn’s throat—a groan or a sigh, I’m not sure.

I walk toward Finn’s bathroom to pick up my toothbrush and toothpaste, ignoring how strangely domestic it looks to have our two toothbrushes side by side, my hair ties next to his deodorant, his contact lenses container pushed on top of a T-shirt I forgot to pick up after my shower this morning. Once I’ve packed all my stuff, I get back to the living room, where Finn is still waiting, on his feet, with arms crossed.

“And then there’s also my mother’s new boyfriend,” I add, hating the way the words taste in my mouth, “who’s apparently kind of a—”

“Fuck, Lexie,” Finn interrupts as he rubs a hand over his head, the hair longer than it was a month ago. He’ll probably need to go buzz it soon. “Why the fuck would you go there?”

I drop my toiletries in my bag, then turn to face him. “Because my little sister is there and was just crying over the phone because that fucker has been mean to her and she’ll need to spend the holidays with him and the rest of my crappy family.” I shake my head, fighting the lump building in my throat. “I don’t have a choice, Finn. If someone’s going to aim at her, then I’ll let her use me as a shield every single time.”

A muscle ticks in his cheek. “I should go with you.”

Laughter spills out of me before I can contain it. When I see his expression hasn’t changed, I say, “You’re joking, right?”

“Not one bit.” His frown deepens. “I would go if I could, but it’s the farm’s biggest season, and I can’t—” He drags a hand over his mouth. “Fuck, I couldn’t do that to them.”

I pause my packing. “Finn, it’s okay. I’m a big girl. I wasn’t able to defend myself before, but I can now.”

My words don’t seem to reassure him, but I have too much to do in too little time to spend more thoughts on this. I turn back to my luggage, going over a mental list, then say, “Leotards. I need leotards.” I run to the washing machine and grab two that are still damp, then push them into my bag.

“Why do you need those?”

“Competition season’s coming fast. I can’t afford to miss two weeks.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“Not sure yet. Maybe beg Andy—my old coach—for some gym time. Worst case, I’ll go outside, run through my routines and work on cardio and conditioning.” It wouldn’t be ideal, but if push comes to shove, it’ll be the best I can do.

I look down at my watch. With all that messing around, it’s almost 9:00 p.m. I need to get to the airport ASAP if I want to have the best chance at finding a last-minute flight.

“Okay, I think I’m good,” I say, then hook my bag onto my shoulder and turn to him.

I don’t think he’s moved an inch in the past twenty minutes.

“When I come back,” I add, “the heater will probably be repaired, so I guess this is goodbye,roomie.” My lips turn into a smile, although there’s something heavy in the air that prevents me from actually finding this funny. I’m going to miss this, I realize. We haven’t shared the space for long, but it still eased the deep sense of loneliness I’ve felt ever since coming here. Maybe even before then.

Voice low, Finn says, “You have my number, right?”

I nod.

“I want you to call me every day.”

“Afraid you’ll miss me too much?”

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