But, I guessed, the why didn’t matter. Not in the scheme of things.
Finn had been told the truth, and I was left wondering if he’d have been better off being kept in the dark.
Was it freeing to know Aidan was his father? That the man who’d abused him had no blood tie to him? That news couldn’t make anything better, but… Having never been abused myself, thank God, I wasn’t sure what was going through Finn’s head.
All I knew was that I’d seen Finn’s reaction to my raising the topic of his mother. He’d shut down and he’d turned cold on me, when Finn had always been anythingbutcold where I was concerned.
“Finn?”
He tensed. “Yeah?”
The words were on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell him I loved him. Wanted them to act as a ward. Those three words would protect him, let him know that he was always safe with me.
But also, I didn’t want his brain to connect the dots.
I didn’t want him to associate my telling him I loved him when he was loaded down with thoughts of his cruel history.
I’d told him once, when I’d thought I was dying. A second time when I’d known guilt was eating him up. The third time I shared those words with him wouldn’t be during a tragic moment in his life.
“I’m here. I always will be.”
A shudder seemed to wrack through him. “T-Thank you, Aoife.”
I wished I could kiss him, but instead, I whispered, “I was born to be by your side, Finn O’Gr—”
A laugh barked from him, interrupting my words. “Finn O'Donnelly. Who’d have thought it?”
The amusement was cruel and aimed inwardly, and I blamed myself for striking out on my first go.
Fuck!
“You’re my Finn,” I told him. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
Was I surprised when he made no whisper of a reply? Yes. But I was glad too, especially when I heard his breathing even out. He’d drifted off to sleep, I realized.
Had my words brought him some peace?
I could only hope they had, even as I wondered what I could do to make this better.
Was just being there enough?
I wasn’t sure.