Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (25 page)

I shove my foot into one of my boots. “I’m a lot of things right now, Finn,” I tell him truthfully, hating how my impending tears start to find their way into my voice.

He throws his legs over the side of the bed, stroking my cheek to draw my attention. I avert my face in the opposite direction and step into my last boot. I can’t find the words I need to say, my thoughts so jumbled I can’t think straight. I only know I
have
to leave. All I need is my coat, my purse, and I’m gone.

Yet when I charge forward, he rushes past me, blocking my way. “Don’t go,” he says, his voice hard. He steps in front of me when I try edging around him, his hands clutching mine and keeping me in place. And still I can’t bear to look at him.

He squeezes my hands, like he always does when he wants to reassure me, or comfort me, or just show me he’s missed me. This time, I don’t squeeze back. Instead my hands lie limp in his.

“I wasn’t going to fuck those girls, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says, his voice deepening.

I lift my chin and meet his face. “You could have fooled me.”

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.”

He throws his hands out. “That’s not true!”

I take a step back, motioning to him. “Finn, look at yourself. You’re hungover after getting so drunk last night you could barely walk. And why? Because of what you saw, what you experienced, and everything you’ve endured by being with me.”

For a moment he simply stares, but he doesn’t argue because he can’t. “Let me go,” I plead with him. “Give yourself this chance to get well.”

“Don’t do this,” he says. “Sol, don’t fucking do this to us!”

My arms ache with the need to hold him―to soothe that bruised expression claiming every inch of his face. But I can’t. So despite what
I
want, I give him what he most needs: an opportunity to heal.

My purse slaps against my side as I turn away, hurrying out the door before I change my mind. I’m not what Finn needs to be healthy. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be.

The door slams hard behind me as I rush into the hall, a sob breaking through my throat when he calls my name one the last time.

CHAPTER 26

Finn

“Elbow, elbow, push kick. Elbow, elbow, knee. Knee. Rear push kick. Okay, now pushups.”

I bark my orders as I perform each task. I’m dragging myself and everyone on my team to the breaking point, and still, I can’t feel anything but rage. I hit fifty pushups and leap to my feet. “Roundhouse, roundhouse, roundhouse. Higher. Roundhouse, roundhouse.”

My shin repeatedly slams into the Muay Thai bag, each strike as hard as the last. I don’t care what’s happening. And I don’t ease up, ignoring the way my heartbeat pounds like a sledgehammer.

My body is warning me I’m exhausted, and that I need to slow down. That doesn’t stop me or scare me from issuing my next set of commands. “Switch, roundhouse, roundhouse . . .”

“That’s enough,” Killian calls from behind me. “Take three laps, cool down, and stretch.”

Our team collectively groans, abandoning the row of bags and starting their half-assed attempts at a jog around the gym floor. Me, I keep going.
Roundhouse, push-kick, jab, jab, spinning elbow, uppercut
.

“Finn, stop,” Killian says, lowering his voice.

I ignore him, leaping into my kicks.

“Come on,” he says. “Take a break from the bag.”

“Gotta make weight,” I tell him, switching from legs to arms.

“You keep this shit up, you’re going to come in underweight. Come on, start your cool down.”

I shrug. “Okay.” I walk away from him and head for the treadmill, cranking it almost as soon as the engine starts. I’m being an asshole to him, and anyone who tells me shit I don’t want to hear. The problem is, lately that includes everyone.

That numbness I’ve felt in the past, hell, I thought that was bad. But all this rage that’s been unleashing since Sol walked out on me, it’s made me a dangerous man. Knowing how bad I can fuck someone up should scare me, force me into action,
something
. But instead I stopped going to counseling the minute my court mandated time was up and let my anger brew―let it take me, reasoning it’s better than feeling nothing.

I don’t hear Sofia approach. She appears from one second to the next, leaning against the railing. “Hi, Finn,” she says.

I don’t answer. “How are you?” she asks.

Again, I don’t say anything. Out of everyone who’s been trying to talk to me, she’s been the one person I haven’t laid into. And I want to keep it that way. If I rip into her―someone who’s so unbelievably gentle―there’s no going back. So I don’t answer, my way of clinging to the human still left in me rather than surrendering to the irate beast no one can stand to be around.

“My wife just asked you a question,” Killian snaps, coming forward. “Show her some respect and answer.”

“Killian, it’s okay,” she says.

“No, it’s not. If he wants to have an attitude with me, that’s one thing. But he’s not pulling that shit on you.”

Son of bitch. I so don’t want to deal with this right now. I hop off the treadmill, not bothering to turn it off and storm to my office as I strip out of my shirt.

Heavy footsteps follow behind me, slapping against the mat. “Finn, get back here,” Kill snarls through his teeth.

Those sprinting past me slow their steps. I can feel their eyes on us. They’re anticipating trouble. Maybe they’re even hungry for it. Can’t blame them seeing how hard I’ve been working them.

I keep walking as if I’m not ready to go to blows. Yet I am. Do I like the idea of fighting my brother? No, not really. It makes me sick, if I’m being honest. We only ever came close twice: once, when I was sticking up for Sofia, and again when he reamed into me about Sol. That doesn’t mean I’m not willing. That’s how messed up I am. So angry, so
furious
, I’m waiting for that swing that gives me an excuse to act.

Sofia urges him back. I don’t bother turning around, don’t bother caring if he charges. If he wants to go, we’ll go.

Maybe it’s what I need or . . . Shit. I don’t know what I need.

I slam the door to my office and storm to the mini-fridge. I pull out a bottle of water, flinging the cap into the garbage can and cursing because that’s all I feel like doing. Just like that, my rage resurfaces and I get another flash from the past. This time it’s of Sol as she walked away, not bothering to glance back. But then the image abruptly switches to the night before when I was on top of her. I have to say, it’s the latter that hurts me more, no matter how good it felt.

She thought I didn’t know who I was making love to, whose body I explored, tasted, wanted. She’s wrong. It’s like the moment I knew she was there at the bar, I could live again. It wasn’t the booze I took that made me forget all the shit running through my brain. It was all her, being there for me, letting me know I still mattered.

Up until she left.

I finish downing the water when the door opens behind me. “
What
?” I snap.

Sofia jumps, her long inky curls bouncing from the force. “Sorry,” I say, holding out a hand. “I thought you were Kill.”

“It’s okay,” she says, closing the door behind her.

I bow my head and take a few breaths, working to rein in my anger as she approaches. I didn’t mean to scare her, but that’s exactly what I did. Christ, maybe I should head out and find some puppies to kick for an encore.

Kill throws the door open, his stare cutting between the two of us. “You all right?” he asks Sofia.

I’m not surprised he heard me yell at her, just like I’m not surprised he came to check on her. But as much of a prick as I’ve been, it pisses me off that he thinks I’d hurt her.

She walks to him slowly, stroking his arm to snag his attention. “Give us a moment, okay?” His attention flicks back to me. “Please, Killian,” she says.

I can tell he doesn’t want to, but he does anyway. He bends to kiss her, his way of assuring us both that he’ll be close by.

He starts to head back out, but not before shooting me a warning glare. I roll my eyes and toss my empty bottle in the recycling can.

Sofia edges closer, smiling softly like me and Kill weren’t both ready to fight. “You didn’t answer my question. How are you?” she asks.

I’ve known her almost my whole life. We grew up across the street from each other and I swear to God, Kill has always loved her. I can’t blame him. She’s just as kind and pure as she was when we were kids, one of those people who simply cares. Maybe that’s why the bullshit wall comes down and I’m able to be honest. “Not good,” I admit.

She sits on the edge of my desk, folding her hands in front of her. “We’re worried about you, Finn.” She sighs when I shut my trap. “Why did you stop going to counseling?”

“I put in my time,” I answer.

“Do you think it helped you?” When again I don’t respond she adds, “It seemed to. You were a lot better for a while. Better than I’ve seen you in a long time.”