He releases his hold, frowning as if he’s hurt, insulted, and maybe even angry. But whatever he’s feeling can’t compare to the misery I feel. “Did you know that was me last night?” I ask. He squares his jaw, clenching it tight. “Or did you figure it out when you woke up on top of me this morning?” I cross my arms and shake my head. “I could have been either one of those girls, Finn, or both―”
“That’s not true,” he snaps, this time yelling. “I was drunk, not fucking insane. Don’t you get it? I would never do that to you.”
“How do you know?” I ask, my voice growing louder. “You were completely drunk.”
Every angle in his face sharpens, but he doesn’t deny it. “I still knew I shouldn’t leave with them. Just like I knew it was you I was touching―” I drop my arms as he edges closer, his chest pressing against mine as he hovers over me and closes the small space between us. “―Touching you like I’ve wanted to this whole time we’ve been apart.”
I want to believe him, but now isn’t the time. Nor is it the time to hold him like I want to, despite how his body begs for my hands.
Finn’s short nails graze along my upper arms. “You’ve been pushing us apart, Sol,” he tells me, his voice quieting. “You. That hasn’t stopped me from wanting you or staying committed.”
My stare trails from his chest to his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” I don’t wait for his response. “Why did you get drunk last night?”
His hands drop away, the abrupt disconnect from our bodies almost painful. “I . . . haven’t been feeling right lately,” he answers.
“Because of what happened with my mother?” Again, I don’t wait for him to answer. I already know the truth by the way he turns his head. “You wanted to forget, didn’t you? You wanted to stop feeling what you have since you found her.”
He whips his head back, his features flashing with surprise. “Come on, Finn. Don’t you think I know what finding my mother did to you, what it must have felt like watching her smile like she couldn’t wait to die? I know it messed you up. I know it was traumatic. Just like I know it was the last thing you needed to see.”
I don’t care about my spilling tears, but Finn does. He lifts his hands to cup my cheeks. “Baby,” he says.
“I know what that did to you,” I repeat. “I know how it sent you tumbling backwards from all your progress in therapy. I know because of how I found you, and how much you must have drank to forget.”
My voice is raised, my words and the hurt behind them slicing at my vocal chords. “You’re angry because you think I don’t trust you. But even though I think you might have left with those women, I couldn’t blame you if you had.”
“What?”
I pull away from him, digging my fingers through my hair. “I did this to you, Finn. You said it yourself, I’ve been pushing you away.”
“You didn’t push me into being with them, if that’s what you were thinking. I was at the bar, when I shouldn’t have been. I didn’t have to drink. That was on me, my decision, my mistake―”
“Because you wanted and needed to forget what you saw,” I remind him.
He shuts his mouth. He can’t deny it. It’s the truth and he knows it. I lift my coat and purse from the floor. “You don’t need this,” I say. “Any of it. Not with the championship bout so close, and not when you were making so many gains in your recovery.”
Again he steps in front of me when I try to walk away, his breaths releasing in quick succession. “What are you saying?”
In the tears that follow his face blurs in front of me. “That you don’t need me, Finn.”
The silence between us is so pronounced it feels like an invisible weight shoving against my chest. It pushes me further away from him. But he won’t let me go. “You’re wrong,” he says, snagging my arms and yanking me close when I try to leave. “You’re all I need.”
His arms circle my waist as his lips collide against mine, the force strong enough to bend me backward. “Don’t leave me,” he rasps between kisses to my neck and mouth. “I need you.”
My body betrays me, aching with how it responds to his touch. But Finn’s needs―the ones I’ve neglected for far too long are more important than anything I’m feeling. I wrench away from him, staggering backward and holding tight to my belongings.
“Sol,” he says, following me as I step away. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Finn, I have to,” I say, choking on my words. “Don’t you see? All I’ve done is hold you back from the good you can have.”
“No,” he grinds out. “You’re the only good left in me.” He marches forward, grasping my hips and lowering his face inches from mine. “I love you. Do you hear me? I fucking love you.”
I fall apart then, sobbing into my hand. Of all the things he could have said, nothing could have crushed me like this. Pain . . . all I feel is pain.
“Sol . . .” he says. “You told me you love me, are you trying to tell me you don’t? Are you trying to say that all this time you’ve been lying about how you feel?”
I compel myself to look at him. “No. I’ll always love you, Finn. But right now, you need to love yourself more. Right now, I’m the worst person for you. I don’t want to be, but I am.”