Saying out loud what I’d been thinking. Different emotions behind them but the same word.
“This is fucking awesome; I’ve been over here upset and sick with worry and all you seem to want to do is shove your tongue down my sister’s throat.”
I still wince for multiple reasons, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before. Knowing I have people on my side. In my corner of the court. It makes me not feel so alone in this hostility-filled room.
Finn throws his hands up in the air, shaking his head, catching as Iceman shoots me a wink. Him uncaring of anyone else’s opinions.
Unsurprising.
Iceman always does whatever he feels like. How others react has never been his concern.
“This is so stupid, all of this!” His hands find his hips. “You don’t show up to the game. You don’t answer your phone. You make me care about you and then you leavemehanging sick with worry… does anyone else agree with me?”
Finn doesn’t give anyone else a chance to respond before he’s answering his own question.
“I have validated reasons to feel this way, Rory!” He rages in disbelief.
I try not to take it personally because I know Finn’s reacting out of anger, but it still doesn’t feel good. Hearing them even if they’re all true.
After everything and when the dust settles the haze in his vision, I hope Finn realizes I care about him too. He’s my brother.
But with any truth hangs darkness that lingers in the corner…
“You know what, I’m out,” Finn decides, throwing out his arms again after no one says anything. Not a single person coming to his defense or mine.
He opens the front door, keys in hand and at the ready, when his motions are stopped mid-exit.
“Ugh, not you too,” Finn groans. “Hasn’t tonight already sucked enough?”
Never have I heard Finn speak so brazenly to Abram, let alone with his colleague Silas. He does now, though, unbashful and without remorse.
If Silas is surprised, I never get the chance to see. No one does. Finn has already slammed the door right back into his face.
fifty-five
Rory
AbramgoestoletSilas back inside, but he beats him to it. Letting himself in.
“Oh good, so I hadn’t been imagining it,” Finn says, crossing his arms. “If you’re looking for your son, he’s probably busy swallowing Rory’s tonsils.” Grunting out the entire comment.
Silas is unscarred by Finn’s comment, but that’s not unusual. Not for him.
There is something so vile about the man, so unaffected by anyone or anything, like after you sit there emotionless after crying, static to everything.
Except I doubt Silas has ever cried. Not even after his wife died. That would require him to be something he’s incapable of. He’s as heartless as he is unfeeling.
Normally yes, but tonight there’s something different about him. That coldness is there, but so is another thing. Humming of a similar wavelength but on a different frequency.
My legs grow heavy as rocks.
Abram sidesteps Finn, shooting him a glare over his shoulder. “Silas, to what do I owe the pleasure? Could you have not called?”
So Abram hadn’t been expecting this visit either. This isn’t good. My stomachs a knotted ball of nerves again.
“How’d you do it?” Silas says, getting straight to the point.
A dangerous glint in his eye. His scowl more drawn than usual. He’s off-kilter, and it’s showing. He’s rattled by something.