Page 72 of The Hot Shot
“Oh, Finn.” My heart breaks for him. For Britt. I’ve never been in their situation, but I know how it is to have something you never thought you wanted ripped away from you. How that loss changes your life and haunts your future.
I think about that irony, and a deep sorrow washes through me.
I don’t know what to do for Finn except keep holding him. But he doesn’t allow it for long. Soon enough, he pulls away and stands tall. The rims of his eyes are red, but he’s tucked away his anguish. I’ve done the same thing so many times, a part of me admires how well he hides himself. The other part of me knows you can’t heal that way and wants to comfort him longer.
“Britt went home to Sweden. She didn’t want to see me. And, frankly, she reminded me of... everything, and I was glad she went.”
“Was yesterday the first time you’d seen her since?”
He nods. “Shocked the shit out of me.”
I feel myself growing distant, as if I’m breathing through layers of cotton wool. I can’t shake the sensation that I’ve lost something I didn’t know I had. All this time, I’d thought of Finnas a shallow bowl. Not stupid by any means, but not someone who had much of a life beyond football and partying. I feel so fucking small for assuming that.
“What did she want?” I can guess. She’d looked at Finn as if he were her salvation.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. They have a history I will never understand.
Finn sighs, and we start walking again. “My mom invited her to spend the holidays with us.”
No need for him to say how he feels about that. If looks could kill, his mom would be in grave danger right about now.
“What did you tell Britt?” The idea of them spending the holidays with each other doesn’t exactly make me happy, but I have no claim on Finn. To demand one now would be hypocritical and petty.
“That I didn’t want her there.” He winces. “I know it sounds bad, but we were never friends. Just... I don’t know, teammates with a common purpose. But my mother... I went home after it happened. She was with me at my lowest.”
“And now you’re avoiding her?”
“Because she won’t let go of the notion that she needs to fix me.” He moves to run a hand through his hair but feels his hat and flings his arm down. “No matter how many times I tell her that I’m okay, she keeps trying to set me up with some daughter or friend of so-and-so, as if finding the right woman will make it all better.”
I bite my lip to hold back a smile. “Mothers can be well-meaning like that.”
He snorts. “Last time I went home, Admiral Foster’s daughters came to dinner practically every night. The both of them smiling pleasantly, as if it were up to me to pick my favorite and take her. It was awkward as fuck. But this...” He lifts a hand in exasperation. “This is too much. Not only did Mom piss me off, she embarrassed Britt.”
“So tell her that.”
“I’m ridiculously bad at telling off my mom,” he grumps.
“Well, avoiding her isn’t going to work.”
“I know that. Shit.” He scowls so darkly, the woman walking by us does a double take and quickens her step. Finn doesn’t seem to notice. “I have to go home for Thanksmas.”
“Thanksmas?”
“It’s kind of a winter holiday catchall,” he explains with a roll of his shoulders. “When my schedule has games on or too close to Thanksgiving and Christmas, my mom has Thanksmas on one of my bye weeks.”
“That’s adorable.”
“That’s my mom.” It’s easy to tell that, despite his disgruntlement, he misses his mom and loves her deeply. He glances down at me. “Chess...”
“What?” I say, edging away. “I don’t like that look.”
Finn blinks, all innocence. “What look?”
“The same look you used the other week when you’d put my bras in the washing machine and it twisted them all to hell.”
“I was trying to be helpful.”
“As I said then, keep your helpfulness away from my bras and panties.”
