His voice is casual, but everything else about him is projecting barely controlled fury.
Finn shrugs, but it’s not nearly as lazy as he’s making it look. His whole body is alert, the animal instincts in him poised for fight or flight. “He got me. I didn’t see it coming. It happens.”
“?‘It happens’? You know how much your little fuckup just cost me?”
“Cost you?” I ask.
“Back off, princess,” Johnny snarls.
Finn steps between us, turning his back to his brother. “Can you give us a few seconds?” he asks.
“No,” I say, clenching Mom’s keys in my fist.
Finn looks to Charlie—for help, I’m guessing—but Charlie’s eyes go to me, and I shake my head firmly. He turns back to Finn. “Uh, no, man. Why don’t you just come with us?”
Johnny laughs. “Hiding with your fancy friends?”
“What a dick,” Charlie mutters under his breath.
“Come on, Finn. Please,” I say. I take his hand in mine, wrap my fingers through his.
He searches my eyes, then lets out a small sigh, nodding before turning back to Johnny. “You go. I’ll see you later. And be careful with the truck.”
Johnny shakes his head in disgust, a two-fingered point from his eyes to Finn’s. “This isn’t over, Finny. You lost us a shit ton tonight.”
“What’s he talking about?” I ask as we watch Johnny leave.
“Nothing,” Finn says.
“Finn.”
“Can you just drop it?” he snaps. And then more quietly, “Please?”
The three of us walk to Mom’s car.
As we’re walking, the fear I felt watching Finn starts to recede. My eyelid is still occasionally twitching, but with each step away from the boxing crowd, I feel my resolve strengthen.
Finn might not want to talk about what just happened with his brother, but he needs someone to take care of him right now.
I can help him.
I open the back door of the car, pushing a stack of Mom’s student papers out of the way.
“I guess this means I owe you a gift card sometime?” Finn jokes.
“Keep your nose tilted back,” I say, ignoring the gift card comment as he climbs in, an involuntary groan escaping his lips as he settles against the seat.
I can’t help it, letting my hand rest against his cheek for a second, wanting to take away all his hurt.
I turn to Charlie, who’s just standing there looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go,” I say, hiking my thumb toward the driver’s seat.
“Yeah, okay.”
As Charlie pulls out of the lot, I dig through Mom’s glove compartment until I find a packet of tissues and hand them over the seat to Finn.
“Thanks,” he mumbles.
In the rearview mirror, I watch him shove one up the nostril with the dried blood.
As Charlie drives, Finn closes his eyes, but I can tell he’s still awake by the way he winces every time we go over a bump.
For the next half hour, the only sound in the car is Charlie’s jam-band music. When we finally reach our exit, I realize my eye hasn’t twitched since we got on the highway.
Charlie looks at me expectantly. “Where to?”
Finn’s breathing sounds sticky. I can’t imagine leaving him with no one to watch over him but Johnny and a ghost with sharp teeth.
“Our house,” I say. “I don’t think he should be alone.”
I expect Charlie to argue, to tell me I’m worrying too much, but to my surprise, he nods. “Yeah, you’re right.”
We decide to leave the car in the driveway so the sound of the garage door doesn’t wake up Mom and Dad. Charlie comes to the passenger side to help me ease Finn out of the backseat, Finn suppressing a yelp when he stands.
Between the both of us, we get him into the house, me kicking the front door shut behind us.
“Family room,” I say.
Mustard winds between Charlie’s legs and then yelps when Charlie gets part of his tail. “Ugh, Mustard.”
“Here,” I say, nudging Mustard out of the way, and then scoot ahead of them so I can push aside the coffee table.
Charlie helps Finn onto the couch, and with a sigh, Finn lies down, resting his head against Mom’s hand-embroidered Queen City pillow—the one that took her ten years to finish. The previously bleeding side of his nose is now precariously close to the image of the suspension bridge.
A nervous giggle escapes my lips before I clap my hand over my mouth, and Charlie shoots an exasperated look at me.
“Really?” he asks.
“I’ll put a towel under there,” I say. “It’s just, this whole evening has been . . .” I throw up my hands.
“I know. Me too.” He surveys the situation. Finn’s eyes are closed, his body slumped on the couch. “Do you need any more help?”
“No. I have it,” I say. “Since he’s talking and can walk and his pupils aren’t weird, it’s okay for him to sleep.”
“All right there, Dr. McCullough.”
I roll my eyes at the name, but before he reaches the stairs, I look over my shoulder. “Charlie, thank you for tonight.”
He pauses, then says, his voice low, “Parker, you know Johnny was betting on Finn, right? That’s what he was mad about.”
“But gambling on that isn’t legal,” I start, and Charlie gives me a look, like, Really?
“He can’t be happy Finn lost,” Charlie says.
“Well, maybe he should get in the ring himself, then. What a jerk.”
“Just be careful, and stay away from him, okay?”
“Of course,” I say.
He stands there for a second longer. “Finn’s lucky to have you watching out for him,” he says before turning to go upstairs.
I watch Charlie’s back, shocked he complimented me, and wonder if I misheard him. I chalk it up to adrenaline and exhaustion and turn back to Finn.
His breathing is a little less labored than before, but the entire left side of his face looks puffy.
“I seriously don’t get the allure of boxing. Why would you do this?” I say, more to myself than him.
In the kitchen, I fill a plastic bag with ice and grab a kitchen towel.
When I get back to the family room, Finn hasn’t moved, so I push down on the pillow, carefully sliding the towel under there so he doesn’t bleed all over Mom’s ten-year project. Then I turn off the lights and squeeze onto the couch next to him, the pillow and Finn’s head practically in my lap.
Mustard hops onto the back of the couch, nudging his wet nose against my neck and head, purring frantically in the hopes of a few good pets, but instead, I rest the bag of ice against the side of Finn’s face. I wait for him to flinch at the cold, but he doesn’t, only lifts his hand and holds the bag against his face too, his hand on top of mine.
I have no clue how I’m going to explain any of this to Mom and Dad tomorrow. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. For now I let myself just listen to the sound of Finn’s breathing evening out. Mustard falls asleep behind me, his head lying flat on the back of the couch, soft cat breath against my neck.
I wonder if Finn’s sleeping too, but then he whispers, “I really blew that one, didn’t I?”
“Well, at least you tried,” I offer, and Finn lets out a low chuckle.
I think that’s it, but then he says, his voice still quiet, “When I fight, everything else goes away. Johnny and my dad and my uncle and everything else about this shitty, shitty town. That’s why I do it.”
I hold my breath.
“But tonight, when I was fighting, you didn’t go away with the rest of it.”
“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t want you to.”
I blush, glad he can’t see my face.
“So here we are,” I say, my voice quiet.
“Here we are,” Finn echoes.
I sit there for a long time, waiting for him to fall asleep, trusting his breath to stay steady with mine.
Forty-Seven
A HAND SHAKES MY shoulder, and I jerk up.