The fact that he’s begging me to help just goes to show how uninvolved he is in his brother’s life. If he was close with Finn, he’d know begging me is useless. I’d follow Finn through the fiery pits of hell if I had to.
And I’m going to that lighthouse if it’s the last thing I do.
* * *
If I could have one superpower, it would be the ability to teleport myself. Preteen Dia would disagree—she would’ve wanted invisibility or telekinesis—but that was before she had to drive two and a half hours out of town to chase a boy.
Bless Aveena’s heart, but her car is basically a pile of crap on wheels. She’s an angel for letting me borrow it, but she’s barely used it since college started, either always catching a ride with Xavier or taking the bus, and it’s making noises it definitely shouldn’t. I want nothing more than to run every red light to get to Finn, but it sounds like the engine is going to explode every time I pump the gas, and I need to be alive in order to save Finn from himself.
I reach Lake Belmont fifteen minutes later than the GPS’s estimate and easily find a parking spot near the docks. It feels weird to be back here after what happened. The place is deserted, with the exception of me. The sun is setting over the lake, creating a blend of pink and orange I’d probably want to immortalize with a picture if I weren’t so busy worrying about Finn. I climb out of Aveena’s car and jog down the wooden stairs leading to the beach.
I see the lighthouse in the distance.
No sign of Finn.
Please be there.
Please be there.
Please be there.
I hurry along the shore, fidgeting with Aveena’s keys and praying to God I didn’t come all this way for nothing. I expected to find Finn standing at the top, leaning against the railing, staring out at the horizon, but I don’t see anything.
Until I squint and make out a man sitting on the metallic floor behind the railings. He’s got his right leg huddled against his chest, his arm draped over his knee, and his head resting against the dome surrounding the lighthouse’s beacon.
I debate on what to do next, mentally listing the million ways things could go wrong in the event that the stranger isn’t him when I go up there.
The man hasn’t seen me yet, eyes fixated on the lake, and I decide to put him to the test. Brody said his brother’s phone had to be off since he wasn’t taking people’s calls, but maybe it’s on and he’s manually declining them? It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. I pull my phone out of my pocket and unlock it. I select Finn’s contact info, my finger hovering near the Call button, and gather the courage to call him seconds later, muting my own phone and keeping an ear out for Finn’s ringtone. Hope streams all over me like warm liquid when I hear the faintest ringing sound emanating from the top of the lighthouse.
Holy shit.
It’s really him.
He lets my call go to voicemail, and I decide to text him.
Dia: I know about your mom. Where are you?
My phone lights up with a message from him seconds later.
Finn: I’m okay, I promise. Sorry for running away like that, I just need some time.
I can feel my rib cage compressing the beating drum where my heart used to be as I read his message. At least he’s communicating. He could’ve shut me out and ignored me the way he’s been ignoring his family, but he didn’t. I wonder if I should retrace my steps and give him the space he asked for.
Oh, to hell with it.
If he asks me to leave, I’ll go, but I have to try. I round the lighthouse, searching for an entrance of some sort. I find wooden planks bolted to a door at the back of the structure, but the planks covering the bottom half of the door have been forcefully removed, leaving more than enough space to crawl inside. All signs point to the lighthouse being abandoned, and odds are, by going inside, I’d be trespassing, but I can’t bring myself to care. Finn needs me, whether he’s willing to admit it or not.
I see a metallic, spiral staircase stretching all the way to the top as soon as I enter the lighthouse. The rusty metal and lack of a banister give me pause, but I go ahead anyway, taking the stairs two steps at a time. I almost lose my footing a few times but somehow make it to the top of the lighthouse in one piece.
I find myself in a room with large windows the next second, and my pulse quickens at the sight of Finn sitting down on the narrow balcony surrounding the beacon room. My heart in my throat, I walk over to the door and push it open. Finn’s head snaps up when I walk outside, the night breeze blowing in my hair. I catch a glimmer of shock on his face, but all my brain registers are his eyes.
Fuck, his eyes…
They’re bloodshot. As though he’s been holding back tears since he found out about his mom, and I ache all over. It’s like I can feel his pain everywhere in my body. From my bones to my joints, all the way down to my soul.
He severs the eye contact before I can try to uncover what he’s thinking and stares ahead of him again. He doesn’t say a word or acknowledge my presence in the slightest. I spent the drive here anticipating his reaction and came up with two plausible options. Option one was anger, and option two was sadness. Not once did I anticipate he’d be indifferent.
He’s not in the mood to talk?