Page 7 of Finn's Solace

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the grilled cheese sandwiches I was supposed to be making. It was comfort food, and I needed it desperately today.

An image flashed into my head, and I almost dropped the pan. There he was. Greta had found him.

He was in his room, it looked like, sitting on the bed with his phone in his hand and a troubled expression on his face. Was he still thinking about me?

I sent a thought to Greta, telling her he was the one I'd been looking for, and she could come back now.

I could almost sense Greta's relief, and I started setting up a plate of treats for her as a thank-you.

Another image flashed into my mind, this time of an excited-looking husky mid-bark as he stood at the base of a tree, supposedly the one Greta had climbed. Uh-oh.

I had no idea where exactly she was, so I couldn't go rescue her. Would the dog tire out if she just stayed put?

One more image appeared through our link, this time with Finn holding the dog back as Greta made her exit. Was the dog his, then? It did seem to have a collar, though Greta's sight wasn't clear enough for me to read the tag hanging from it.

It was another fifteen minutes before Greta appeared at the back door, and when I let her in, she made a beeline to her water bowl.

"Oh, sweetie. Did you get thirsty? I'm sorry. I didn't realize how long it would take."

A wave of calming energy hit me through our bond, and I smiled as I took her plate of treats to her.

She shot me a look I read as grateful before diving into the food, and I leaned against the kitchen counter as I watched her, sending some of the fondness I was feeling her way.

As I watched her, my thoughts returned to Finn. Most days, I tried not to think of my past. There wasn't much good back there, and I preferred to live in the present. But now I made myself think back and remember the last time Finn and I had talked.

It'd been a few days before I found the opportunity to escape, and I'd been telling him about my plan. Our captors had been taking our blood to power their black magic, which had left our magic completely depleted, and I'd promised him and the others that I'd come back for them once my magic had replenished.

I hadn't gotten back in time. Did Finn think I hadn't come backat all? It had taken me a few months to return, and if they'd only just moved from that spot, it meant Finn had waited months for me. No wonder he didn't want to talk to me.

During one of our evening conversations, he'd admitted to me in hushed whispers how his parents had discarded him and his siblings. I knew how deep that wound had gone for him. If he thought I'd also abandoned him, I could understand his reaction.

I needed to tell him the truth, needed him to know that I'd kept my promise, that I'd just been too late. Would he forgive me then?

How would I even tell him? I knew where he lived, but it wasn't like I could just show up at his door. Ambushing him would just push him further away.

If I had his number, I could call or text, ask him if we could meet up.

A chitter made me look down, and Greta climbed up my leg, done with her meal. Greta knew where Finn lived, and she could show up at his door. Hmm...

"Hey, Greta. Will you help me some more?"

She gave me a long-suffering glance—she was probably regretting becoming my familiar—then nodded, and I grinned.

I might not have his number, but I did have a way to get across what I wanted to tell him.

Walking into my bedroom, I dug through one of the boxes I still hadn't gotten around to unpacking until I found what I was looking for. The notepad had been an impulse buy because I'd liked the potted plants pattern that framed every page. It was the perfect paper to write a letter on.

Taking the notepad and a pen into the living room, I settled on the couch. Greta hopped on beside me, then watched me as I stared at the blank paper.

Wow, this was harder than I'd thought it would be. I needed to make sure I got every word right. One wrong word, and I might lose the chance to ever talk to Finn again.

Four

Finn

After putting away the groceries, I'd retreated to my room, grateful for all the silencing wards Dad had asked Rhiannon to put on the bedrooms when we first moved to this place.

Of course, us kids hadn't been allowed to use ours until after we turned eighteen—and now it mostly helped me by hiding my nightmares from the dads—but we were still grateful for it, because with our supe hearing, it would've been downright traumatizing if we'd overhead whatever happened in our dads' bedroom.

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