Finn heaves a quiet laugh in response, stalking toward me and plopping down on the edge of the bed next to me.
“How much did you read?” he questions before reaching for the letter in my hands and trapping it into his fist.
“All of it,” I admit shamefully.
He nods.
“I didn’t know your dad dragged you to therapy.”
“Yep.” He blows out a breath. “Every Friday from fifteen to sixteen. Worst year of my fucking life.”
I watch him trail to the trash can by his desk, ball up the letter, and throw it away.
“I found the box under my bed when I was cleaning my room,” he explains.
I know exactly what he’s referring to.
It wasn’t too long ago that he was wrecking this very bedroom with a baseball bat. Lexie had just died in his arms a few hours prior. It took him months to clean up everything and replace what he broke.
“I’m not sure why I kept them.” He shrugs, picking the box off his desk for a closer look. “I always told myself I’d burn those letters to ashes but never got around to it.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it.
He’s lying.
I’m willing to bet the letters made him feel connected to his mom somehow. And he’ll never admit it, but he kept them because he cares. He cared too much then, and he cares too much now.
Finn was a mama’s boy through and through. I used to think my parents were superhumans, too. Sad to think my dads might never look at me the same way again…
My recollection of the harsh words I exchanged with them before coming here chips away at my composure. I wasn’t supposed to let it get to me. I was supposed to let Finn screw my brains out and forget about the bonds I just broke, but my eyes steam up despite my best efforts.
I focus on keeping the sobs at bay and get off the bed, turning my back to Finn as I pretend to pace around the room. Envisioning the brutal disappointment on my parents’ faces coaxes tears from my eyes, and I start to cry silently.
Only, I must not be as silent as I expected because Finn catches on immediately.
“Dia?” he calls.
Stop fucking crying.
I don’t turn around.
“Dia? Talk to me.”
I choke on a sob a moment later and feel Finn’s imposing presence behind me. He tries to walk around me to take a look at my face, but I whip it away from him, grasping at the little pride I have left. Finn lets out a growl of irritation, grabbing my cheeks and steering my face toward him.
You’d think I slammed a sword through his chest when he sees my glistening eyes. There’s a mix of sadness and rage festering in his gaze, and it isn’t long before rage wins the war.
Finn’s fists close into tight balls. “He’s fucking dead.”
I blink at him through confusion and a thick veil of tears. “Who?”
“Whatever pathetic fuck put tears in your eyes.” He releases my jaw. I crack a small smile, his overprotective side bringing warmth to my thawing heart. He might sing a different tune if he knew the “pathetic fucks” in question are my parents.
“That would be my dads.” I wipe one of my cheeks with the back of my hand.
Finn’s features display his worries, but he doesn’t say a word, waiting for the story’s conclusion.
I inhale a sharp breath before continuing. “They know. About last summer. They found out I’ve been lying to them.”