Page 26 of Bottoms
9
Breaking Down
“You’requiet,”Fynncommented,keeping his eyes on the road while he drove us home.
I swallowed the mouthful of chocolate milkshake while I gathered my thoughts into some kind of answer that didn’t sound insane. “Hard to talk when I’m busy eating,” I said, deciding to go with simple.
“I’m,” he started. His hands were still gloved as they gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’m sorry I brought you along with me to kill someone. I can see now that you weren’t ready,” his tone unsure, like he had been trying to figure out how to say that the entire car ride so far.
A slight bit of laughter bubbled out of me before I could bottle it back inside. I gave Fynn an apologetic smile. He was looking at me like I was the crazy one. Guess it was a good thing I hadn’t blurted out ‘bride and groom wedding bathing suits’ when he had first pulled me from my thoughts.
“Fynn, I’m fine, really,” I said, holding up my milkshake. Making it dance in the air while I smiled. “I just got a little,” I paused, caught between wanting to comfort Fynn, but too embarrassed to admit what had really happened. “Overwhelmed.” I decided that was as safe of a way to describe it.
“Overwhelmed? That’s a panic attack, sweetheart. We’ve been working hard at helping to reduce your triggers and desensitize you. And I pushed you before you were ready because it was something I wanted,” Fynn said, his voice low, as he chastised himself.
My brain seemed entirely silent. Stunned into another reboot at the sound of a genuine apology from Fynn’s lips. That wasn’t something I expected to hear from a trained killer. Guilt ate away at me, begging me to come clean and absolve Fynn. But I couldn’t take on all of his sins.
“Do you remember your first kill?” I asked, the words slipping free from my mouth rather than allowing me to give in to making the devil feel better just yet.
His grip on the wheel tightened again, and his eyes slid to mine for a fraction of a second before focusing on the road before us. We still had a way to go. We hadn’t even crossed over the bridge yet.
“I do.” He nodded sharply. The words flew from his mouth like he didn’t care if I caught them or not.
“What was the first one like?” I probed, hoping that he might feel as though he owed me in his guilt.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Fynn snipped. His grip on the steering wheel turned with his head, causing us to swerve before he quickly corrected us. A cacophony of honks sounded from the other cars. It was a damn miracle he hadn’t managed to hit someone.
“And I didn’t want to be kidnapped by some psychotic killer, yet here we are. In the car together with no one except each other as company,” I snipped as my mood suddenly shifted after the wave of panic endorphins. “I’m just asking you to open up a little since you are the one that wants me to be part of this life, Fynn,” I sighed. My anger had exploded like a firework and then just as quickly dimmed. “I’m asking what it’s like to kill someone for the first time because I have a feeling that’s where we are headed with this, right? You want me to be just like you.”
I watched the side of Fynn’s head, his jaw clenching as he watched the road. He had a decision to make. This time, defining our relationship would depend on how much he was willing to give up for me. I required symbiosis.
“I was young,” Fynn started. His voice was soft, like the ghost of his victim still haunted his abyss. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. No one was supposed to die. But I was young, and I wanted to impress my father.” Fynn took a deep breath before his hand started to rummage around.
“Here,” I said, holding up his box of cigarettes. I had seen him frantically look for them before and knew what he needed. It usually happened when we talked about his childhood.
He looked over at me and smiled with thanks before taking one. Leaving me with the rest of the pack. Fynn never seemed to have a hard time finding a lighter, no matter where he was. I was sure the blue one with a butterfly had become a sort of security object to him. He used it to light the end before pocketing it and cracking the window. Noise from the cars and all the bustling streets flowed through the opening. It felt like nails on a chalkboard.
“Go on,” I encouraged. Preferring the sound of his voice to the noise.
“I had just turned eighteen and wanted to show my dad just how grown up I was. My dad was a good man. A loving father and an adoring husband. But he was a hard man to please. The only thing I wanted when I was growing up was for him to say he was proud of me. But it seemed like my dad could only be proud of Colten.”
I felt my eyes widen as I stared at Fynn’s profile. Wishing that I could see through his skin and into his mind to find out exactly what happened to turn him into the killer he was. Unfortunately, I would have to settle on the slow trickle of information he fed me.
“Colt was my best friend. Then his dad did what he did, and Colt took over, looking after Tanner. My dad decided he would take over, making sure Colt had a man’s presence in his life. At first, it was great. Colt and I were like brothers then, learning the same skills together. Then, it was like I didn’t exist to my dad unless I was better than his adopted project.” Fynn seemed far away as he recounted his past, and I wondered just how many people he had entrusted to these memories.
“Is that why you aren’t one of the business partners anymore?” I asked, hoping he would keep talking.
“I’ll always be a member of the Arsenal,” Fynn said, almost confused. “They didn’t permanently replace me. They didn’t know that I was still working with them, just from a distance. It’s okay. They’ll understand soon enough. And I might even let my replacement live, since you seem fond of him.”
His tone had changed dramatically, and I knew that would be all I would get out of him tonight. Most days, Fynn acted mostly normal. Other than being completely fine with killing people, of course. But he had his morals and logic, and things at least made sense in their own way. But now and then, he would have moments like this. When it felt like some other part of him was reaching out, begging to be seen. The only problem was that part of Fynn didn’t seem to abide by any moral code. That would be the part of him that would kill me.
“Does that mean you plan on bringing me back to them?” I asked, unsure how I even felt about that idea.
Being in Colten’s office today, smelling him, reliving memories, made me doubt just how much I had managed to sweep under the rug when it came to them. I wanted to say that I could drop them from my life and never think about them again. But that wasn’t true. They still haunted my every dream, and Fynn was right along with them in the recesses of my mind. Digging his way in and making a home for himself. Snuggled up alongside Tanner, Nik, and Colten. Whether we agreed or not.
I imagined having all four of them with me in the old farmhouse. Tanner would mope around, unsure what to do with himself when he didn’t have an empire to manage or underlings to dictate. He would miss the rooftop greenhouse as his little slice of nature behind protective glass. Not fully appreciating the clean air provided by the woods that harbored the house. But it would be a lot of fun teaching him how to enjoy the simpler things in life. I might even get the chance to see the deep, dark parts of him he liked to hide from the world.
Colten would insist on building a library. Most likely taking over the remainder of the living room to add in a collection of dusty works. I had a feeling if he couldn’t have a job, he would still spend all day in a suit. Reading through books from other centuries. Consuming the dusty pages while struggling against the never-ending battle of fixing his glasses. There would be plenty of times when I could slip under his desk while he read. He would get off on it in the worst way, and I would love every empowering second of it.
