If you were to ask Finn, he’d tell you that it’s part of the rules. Rules, something I didn’t know existed at an anti-birthday. But according to him, they do. I asked.
They include not being allowed to receive anything of useful value. If I did get something like that, it would defeat the purpose of what we’dnotbeen celebrating.
Which is how I ended up with a used zero balance gift card from Hailey, an autographed self-portrait of Finn, and a paper bag filled with junk mail from Eli.
Coles took a little longer to open.
Open, not the right word,realizeI’d been duped a better fit. Inside, nothing more than a dirt-packed mound of fresh earth.
The entirety of it all as fun as it’d been ridiculous.
I’m pouring myself a glass of juice when Finn walks into the kitchen.
“Morning, lil sis,” he says, reaching under my arm and stealing my drink as if it’s his own.
“Hey,” I grumble, ready to argue but decide it’s not worth it.
Shooting him a smug expression instead as I reach beside him. Finn forced to adjust where he’s made himself comfortable on the countertop. Opening the cabinet right next to his face.
He glowers, unamused, but there is something different about it. His face a little more drawn than it should be. Eyes too heavy.
An off-balance feeling settles in the room after I turn my back on him again. The air not as easy as it’d been seconds ago. A rigid weightiness hangs here now.
It has nothing to do with the stolen juice. I can sense that.
“You’re still here,” he notes at my back.
Agitation rolls off him. He sounds stunned, a slight hitch and crackle in his voice. I hate it.
The liquid I’m pouring spills over and I curse, finding a rag and wiping up the mess. Avoiding his pensive gaze the entire time. Finn doesn’t offer to help, and I don’t ask.
You’re still here.
My mouth pulls down. I am, aren’t I?
Fourteen days is what he’d told me he had to convince me to stay. In less than that, I’d convinced myself I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
I have friends, a life.Here.What do I have anywhere else?
The issues I’m dealing with, that’s all I’d have.
If I left, sure, they’d be easier to deal with, but that won’t mean they’ll get fixed. All running does is create an escape. What am I running from now?
Myself?
Not anymore.
“Did you expect me to not be?” I cringe, hating how my voice comes off defensive automatically.
“Well, honestly… yeah.”
My hands cramp before flattening out on the cool smoothness of the quartz counter.
The truth of his words hit me like a knife to my lungs. I should have expected it. Been grateful it’s to my front and not back, but it still hurts as it pierces the flesh.
Something sharp will do that to a softness.
“Finn, I—”