Page 20 of Cosy & Chill
Misgivings
His parents’ house lay dark and silent when Finn let himself in through the front door. He and Leo had spent the evening in the Crown & Anchor until Annabelle had called last orders, and had taken the long way through town before they’d finally parted. It was almost one o’clock now—the second evening in a row he’d come home this late—and Finn felt in equal measure elated and worn out.
So much had happened in two days, he felt as if fate had pulled the rug from under his feet and left him floundering.
Every time he thought of Leo’s excited smile, a grin curled his lips in answer. The dizzy joy filling him reminded him of the day he’d sold his very first piece of knitwear through his Etsy store. That had been four years ago, when he had knitted pieces that appealed to him before offering them for sale. Long before he’d hit on the idea to knit to order and to use his knack of matching a person’s looks and style to yarn and colour as a selling point for his store.
His sales had taken off at that point. He’d managed to cover the cost of the yarn and the postage, pay rent to his parents, pay his taxes,andput money aside every month. By most people’s standards, his savings account wasn’t huge, but it had reached five figures and he hoped that its contents would be enough to start the store.
“You’re late again. What fucking time do you call this?” His father’s voice, coming from the darkness, stopped Finn in his tracks. He’d misjudged, had assumed that his parents had gone to bed. He’d been on the way to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water, and now it was too late to retreat.
“I was working,” Finn replied quietly, because not answering would only produce more vitriol. “Then I met with a friend.” He hated that his father’s rough tone put him on the defensive. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Everyone had friends and enjoyed their company.
“You call that work? Poncing around. Sponging off us.” The words fell into the silence like disdainful hammer blows. “Whoring around with guys. D’you at least get paid for that?”
Finn froze. How had— “What?”
The sofa springs creaked as his father shifted on the cushions. “You think I didn’t know? How stupid do you think I am? When I saw you snogging that guy at the prom every fucking thing about you suddenly made sense. Fucking faggot.”
Finn held his breath. He waited for more accusations. For shouts and insults. None came. The sofa springs creaked again. A moment later, his father’s snores filled the space where the hurtful words had been.
Finn resumed his trek to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water and drained it in one long draught. He refilled his glass and retraced his steps, taking the stairs to his room. He locked the door and took off his coat before he sank onto his bed shaking from head to foot.
He’d been sixteen at the school prom, had had a crush on Robbie Fisher, and had spent most of the evening wrapped around him. They’d kissed, fooled around a bit in a dark corner of the garden, and kissed some more. They’d thought they’d been stealthy, that nobody had seen them. That nobody knew.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Finn’s lack of interest in football and his struggles at school had disappointed his father. While he hadn’t done more than sneer at Finn’s love of knitting while his own mother was alive, once she’d died he’d made sure that Finn knew what he thought of his hobby.
That had been four years ago, and Finn had always connected his father’s sudden open hostility and his gran’s death. Now it seemed that there’d been another reason for the anger and the insults spilling out every time his father caught sight of Finn.
His gran’s death had nothing to do with that at all.
Finn had hesitated to come out to his parents because he didn’t want to make a bad situation worse. He hadn’t realised that he’d already done it, innocently and without being aware of it.
He stripped out of his clothes and huddled under the quilt. The heating was on, but Finn felt cold. Shivers ran in waves over his skin, tension dissipating after a great fear. For once, his mind was blank, his father’s revelation too big a topic to grapple with amidst exhaustion and elation. He would think about it later. Later….
As soon as he came to that decision, though, his mind started up and wouldn’t stop. Now, it wasn’t his father, who occupied his thoughts. It was Leo whom he’d met only two days ago. With whom he was planning to open a live-in store. And who had no idea that Finn was gay, or that Finn found Leo attractive.
“Shit!” Finn switched on the light beside his bed. He had a chance to make his dream a reality, but this could turn into a disaster. All it needed was one incautious look or a not so innocent touch and Leo would look at him the way his father did.
Finn knew that Leo enjoyed his company. His face lit up when he caught sight of Finn, and when Finn had felt vulnerable while exploring the empty store, Leo had been right beside him, offering support. It had been a small gesture, insignificant to most people, but Finn had cherished it. Had thought it could mean more.
Was he reading too much into a small kindness?
He knew nothing about Leo beyond his name, his cheeky grin, and his love for making ice cream. He couldn’t… He couldn’t…
Finn’s mind refused to go down the road where his dreams lay on the pyre. He refused to set a torch to it.
There had to be a way to make this work. He was just too tired to see it.
Stacking his pillows into a pile was a work of moments. Reaching for the nearest project bag took just as little time and effort.
He pulled out the yarn and the half-finished piece, pleased to see that it was a christening gown. An intricate piece of lace pattern that needed careful shaping. Not something he could knit while his mind spun in aimless circles. Pushing all thoughts of his father, Leo, and awkward complications aside, he opened the pattern, located his place, and started working.
He bound off the last edge when the church clock struck half past five and the first engine sounds disturbed the silence.
His panic had subsided while he worked, steadily and methodically, as he had on many other nights. He set the finished piece aside, ready for washing and blocking, before stretching out under his quilt. He’d told Leo that he would always be grateful to him for nudging Finn out of his comfort zone and towards his dream. He’d told him he’d be grateful, even if the project didn’t succeed. While he’d worked through the night, he’d realised that he’d meant it.
Maybe Leo didn’t want a gay business partner or share a house with a gay man.
Maybe he didn’t mind at all.
Finn didn’t know. He couldn’t guess. And Leo couldn’t choose unless he had all the information.
The prospect of having this conversation made Finn cringe, but if he wanted his dream store, he had to lay it out for Leo.
Finn closed his eyes on a sigh. He was meeting Leo in the Crown & Anchor at three. He would tell him then.
