Three days since I left her in a snit. Three days since he’d almost admitted how much he’d come to rely on her, come to… care for her.
When he’d arrived in London yesterday evening, he’d gone straight to Finn’s room. His brother had been sitting up in bed and alert, though he sported a rather large bandage about his head and his temper had nearly rivaled Drew’s. They hadn’t spent time chatting, for he’d been wet from the rain and tired besides, and damn it, he’d second-guessed his decision to leave Sarah.
Devil take it!
He shoved his plate away after only two bites and stood as quickly. His mind wouldn’t quiet, and he knew why. Until he attempted to make peace with his brother, he’d not accomplish anything else.
On his way abovestairs, he passed the butler. “Have you seen Major Storme this morning, Peters?”
“I came from his room just now, my lord. A package was delivered for him.” The ancient butler shrugged. “He was most secretive about it.”
Drew’s stomach bottomed out. Had he ordered something that would aid him in attempting suicide again? “Thank you.” Then he took the remainder of the stairs two at a time. At Finn’s door, he pressed the latch and shoved open the wooden panel. His brother sat up in his bed with a smallish box in his lap. The expression of delight and consternation on his face wasn’t what one would think if the man had ordered a knife or other implement of killing. When Finn looked at him with a scowl, Drew cleared his throat. “Ah, good morning.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What’s in the box?” Drew countered. When he craned his neck to see, Finn threw the bedclothes over it.
“Nothing that concerns you.” His brother frowned. “What are you doing in London? I thought you’d recently married. Don’t you have a wife to keep you busy, or can she not stomach who you are like the rest of us?”
As a swath of hot anger slashed through his chest, Drew counted to ten slowly in his head to help alleviate the response that sat on the tip of his tongue. “I came because you nearly killed yourself.”
Finn snorted. His dark hair stuck up around the bandage, making him look like an escapee from a hospital. “I was never near death. I simply fell out of my chair and hit my head.”
“But the note you left?”
“Written prematurely in a fit of pique.” He shrugged. “However, that crisis point has passed.”
“How?” Drew had no idea what his brother struggled with, but suddenly he wished to. “How the devil can you flip between such an intense emotion like depression and then act completely different not four days later?”
“I suppose I’ve found something that distracts me or makes those other emotions less important. Perhaps I’ve found… hope.” Finn cocked his head to one side as he regarded Drew. “Don’t misunderstand me. When my depression comes to call, there’s every chance I won’t be able to pull myself out of that dark place, especially not alone.”
“That settles it. I’m staying here.” At least then he could fulfil his father’s last wish.
“No.” Finn held up a hand. “That’s not the answer. Hell, you seethe with anger even now. Your anger feeds mine, and I don’t want that beast to grow within me.”
“But—”
“Stop.” He grew silent for the space of a few heartbeats. “No one outside of myself can remove what I’m feeling, and no one’s advice can help how I navigate my way through.” As he rubbed his fingers along his whisker-covered chin, he nodded. “Neither can I pretend the things that happened to me while on those battlefields didn’t. It is life.”
The words both confused Drew and gave him a tiny glimmer of hope. It was much like what Sarah had told him, but from a different perspective. “How do you conquer those emotions without them consuming you?” It hurt his pride to ask, but Finn, though his life had been turned upside down and confined him to a Bath chair, seemed more well-adjusted to it.
“It’s a constant battle. On the days when I’m feeling weaker, then the darkness wins, and my thoughts follow suit.” He shrugged, and for the first time Drew realized how fit and lean his brother was. “Having people about with sunny dispositions and determination of their own helps.” A low chuckle escaped him. “Of course, my favorite people to spend time with are those who have their own struggles but have come out the victor, for that gives me hope.”
“I see.” Drew gawked at him. It seemed so easy, so why did he constantly fail at it?
“There is one caveat.”
“Oh?”
“For myself, I must want that change, I need to keep moving toward being a better man despite what happened to me. Going to war showed me that life is short, and I did things merely to survive, but coming home has shown me that life has the potential to be long, and…” He swallowed audibly. “I’d like to be around for some of it, to enjoy the time I have left. Only I can make certain of that.”
There was nothing to say. Both Finn and Sarah held the same beliefs, and unless he—Drew—made the decision to change, it would never happen. He nodded. “Well then, if you don’t require my assistance…”
“I do not.”
“You’re well? Promise me you won’t attempt this again.” This was an opportunity for him to make his peace with his brother, but the words wouldn’t leave his lips. Perhaps he hadn’t matured enough for that.
Yet.