Page 69 of Filtration Play
They stared at him for one last minute, soaking in those beautiful details. Of the man who’d made them believe for a few blessed seconds that they weren’t damaged beyond repair. That despite their past, they could still be loved.
And they turned and walked away.
Fin’s heart lodged in their throat as they slipped on their jacket in the kitchen and snagged up their keys and wallet.
They had no idea what they were running toward, because they had nothing. All they knew was they couldn’t stay. Fin clutched their keys so tight the metal dug into their skin. Even the bite didn’t permeate through the numbness that descended.
At least their shut-off phone wasn’t buzzing with the constant reminder of everything that had blown up in their life.
They trudged down the steps, the thump, thump, thump reverberating through their bones. Just last night, they’d been hopeful despite everything that had gone down with their dad. Having Ollie there to pick up the pieces, being able to rely on someone—fuck, his presence had meant everything.
But time after time, life smacked them with an icy reminder.
They were too broken to keep anyone.
Fin settled on their Ducati, and it rumbled to life beneath them. It was about the one thing that held a charge, since their hollow heart barely thumped. Fin sucked in a shaky breath, which was still hard to catch. They stared at their apartment building for a moment longer, not sure what they were looking for. Ollie to burst out after them? They’d left him asleep and unaware.
No, no one would be coming for them.
They set off down the road as the truth turned their veins to ice.
No matter how far they ran, they’d never find somewhere to call home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ollie woke up out of a dead sleep to the ringing of his phone.
It took him a moment to adjust, to realize he lay in Fin’s bed, the sheets wrapped around him. The bed was still warm on their side, so they must’ve gotten up and headed into the other room.
His phone flashed with an unknown number, and he drew his brows together.
“Hello?”
“Ollie, I need your help.” Meg’s voice sounded on the other side, and the dead seriousness in her tone had him sitting up sharp.
“How’d you get my number?” popped out of his mouth, even though his mind whirred withpanic scenarios.
“Called Jasper, and Jules passed it along.” Her terse reply signaled the storm on the horizon about to descend. The air positively hummed. “Is Fin with you?”
“I’m at their place.” He pushed up from the bed. Something about the way Meg asked that stirred the anxiety in his veins. It had been simmering for a bit behind the scenes, but it cranked to a full boil.
“Thank fuck. Can you pass the phone to them?” Meg said.
Ollie didn’t bother with more than tossing on boxers. He stepped into the main area of Fin’s apartment—but didn’t spot them. “They’re not here.”
“They’re not picking up their phone,” Meg said. “Some bad shit went down today with Hera. She blew up spectacularly and dragged Fin’s name through the mud in the process.”
“Oh fuck.” A chill settled through him. He wasn’t sure why he expected them to pop out of a closet or something. Fin wasn’t in the bathroom, wasn’t in the kitchen or main area, and wasn’t in the bedroom. Their apartment wasn’t huge; there were only so many places to hide. It was as if they’d vanished from existence.
But if bad shit had gone down, on top of what had happened yesterday…the pit in his stomach turned into a chasm.
“Are they there?” Meg’s voice grew tense.
Ollie strode over to the window, his shoulders tightening, and peered out to the street below them. One empty space stood out crystal clear.
“Their Ducati is missing.”
“Oh, shit.” Meg swore.
