Out of Mind Read online

  “I must’ve forgotten.” He ran a hand down his face. “Sorry.”

  He’d been forgetting a lot of things lately. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pills, the booze, or the injury. Maybe a combination of all three. Either way, it kind of freaked me out. “It’s okay. Maybe I was wrong and I forgot to tell you.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m glad you’re back now.”

  Larry stood up. He looked a little bit pale and unsteady. I started to rise, but he shook his head. Finn looked over at him, and Larry gave him a smile. “I’m going to crash early tonight, son. I’m exhausted.”

  Finn studied him. “You feeling all right, Dad?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m fine,” Larry said, shaking his head and chuckling. “Don’t you worry about me. You worry about you.”

  Finn narrowed his eyes. “You look pale. Are you getting sick again?”

  “No, not again.” Larry headed for the door without looking back. “Good night.”

  When Finn started to stand, I tugged him back down. “Let him go. He’s tired. You can talk to him in the morning.”

  Finn tensed. “Something’s wrong, and he’s not telling me. Do you know what it is?”

  I was pretty sure Finn’s father wasn’t doing well. I thought it might be something to do with his heart, but I’d never gotten it confirmed. “I don’t. I have my suspicions, like you,” I said, squeezing his hand. “We’ll talk to him together in the morning, okay? Not now.”

  He nodded and let out a sigh. “You’re right. But don’t let me forget to talk to him tomorrow. Promise you’ll remind me.”

  I swallowed hard. “I promise.” I rested my hand against his cheek, trying to enjoy the moment. “How’s the head feeling tonight?”

  He met my eyes, relaxing under my touch. “It hurts,” he admitted. “A lot.”

  “Have you had any more pills since I left?”

  He shook his head but didn’t meet my eyes. “Nope.”

  “Okay.” I hesitated before grabbing his pills. For what had to be the millionth time, I said, “But you’ve been drinking. You’re not supposed to mix—”

  “They just say that shit to scare you. I’m fine.” His hand shook as he took the bottle from me. He seemed to remember he couldn’t open it with one hand, so he held it back out. “Can you help me?”

  “Of course.” I opened the bottle and poured out a pill, wishing I hadn’t asked him how his head felt. I’d had to beg to get a refill for him, since it was a full day too early. “You’re not supposed to mix them, and you know it.”

  “I don’t give a damn, and you know it.” He took a deep breath. With a small grimace, he popped the medicine into his mouth. After he swallowed, he gave me a long, hard look. “I’m fine, Carrie. Don’t worry.”

  I froze, the lid half on. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

  “I watch you all the time. You always look worried, unless you see me watching. Then you laugh and smile.” He cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my lip. “I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll get through this.”

  I wished that was true. “I’m not worried about that.”

  “I know,” he said, his tone playful despite the shadows I could see in his eyes. The ones that chased him every night no matter how fast he ran. “I’ve got you. What more could I possibly need?”

  I leaned in and brushed my mouth across his. He tasted like alcohol. “Nothing,” I whispered against his lips.

  His good hand flexed on my thigh. “Careful. Your dad’s coming back any second now.”

  “He knows about us. Why worry about a kiss?”

  “He knows, but he doesn’t like it.” He leaned back against the couch. “And he definitely doesn’t want to see us kissing in his living room.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly. When he opened his eyes, all signs of tension dissipated. “We won’t be here much longer, and then we can go back to normal. We’ll be back in California, and I’ll be back to annoying you twenty-four-seven.”

  I smiled, knowing that was what he wanted from me. He loved to make me happy, after all. “I know. I can’t wait.”

  “And, hey, at least I’m home for Christmas. We didn’t think I would be.” His mouth twisted, and he fingered my sun necklace. “We even celebrated early and everything.”

  I thought back on the night Finn had created Christmas for me. We’d decorated a tree, shared a romantic dinner, and spent the night in each other’s arms. It had been the last time we made love, and the last time I’d seen him really smile.

  “I know. It was lovely.” I kissed him one more time, keeping it short. “Maybe the actual Christmas will be even better. I’ll get to show you the present I got for you.”

  He ran his free hand over his shaved head, touching the shiny, puckered wound. It started at the corner of his eye and then extended to the back of his skull. I knew he was self-conscious about it, but he shouldn’t have been. He was gorgeous as always. “I don’t think it will top our other one. I can’t even use my fucking arm, and we won’t be alone. There won’t be any hot holiday sex to finish off the night.”

  “Oh, I think you could do plenty of damage with just the one arm,” I teased, running my hand over his chest. I placed my palm right over the spot where he’d gotten our tattoo. “And if not, well, you can still hold me. That’s all I need to be happy. Your arms around me, and us together. Fighting the world as a team.”

  “You and me against the world, right?” Meeting my eyes hesitantly, he looked down at where my hand rested. His were blazing with heat, desire, and love. He leaned in and rested his forehead against mine, taking a shaky breath. “I love you so fucking much, Carrie.”

  My heart melted and I blinked back tears. This was the first time he was acting like my Finn, and it was breaking my heart. “I know. I love you, too.”

  “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” His fingers moved to the back of my head, cradling me and holding me closer. “I hope I don’t fuck it up.”

  “You won’t.” I pulled back and smiled at him, trying to show him there was nothing—nothing—he could do to send me running. “We’ve been over this before. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He drew in a ragged breath. “I didn’t deserve you when I was whole, and I definitely don’t deserve you now, looking like Frankenstein’s monster.”

  “Finn.” I ran my hand over his head, scowling at him. “Don’t you ever say that again. You’re perfect. We’re perfect.” I lightly kissed the spot where his injury started. “And a few scrapes isn’t going to ruin that. You’re as hot as ever.”

  He let out a small sound and caught my mouth with his. It was the first time he kissed me since he came home. Every other time, I’d been the one initiating it, and he’d been pushing me away. He always had a good reason for doing so, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. He was pushing me away, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him.

  Footsteps approached, and my dad came into the living room. Finn let go of me as if I were diseased and stood shakily. Dad handed him a drink and looked at me. He scanned my face, his brows lowered. Finn took the drink and inclined his head. “Thank you, sir. If you don’t mind, I’ll take this up to my room. I just took a pill, and I’ll be tired soon.”

  I stood up. “I’ll come and—”

  “No. I’m fine.” Finn offered me a smile, but the real smile I’d gotten earlier was gone. In its place was the one I’d gotten all too used to. “Spend time with your dad. I’ll see you in the morning when the sun’s shining nice and bright. Maybe we can go out to breakfast.”

  I watched him go. He snatched up an entire bottle of whiskey off the side table as he passed it, and walked out into the hallway. He was going to drink himself to sleep again. He’d still wake up screaming, though. I knew it and so did he. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d forgotten about his night terrors.

  I hadn’t.

  I took a step after him, planning on ripping it out of his ha
nds, but Dad grabbed my arm. “Let him go. He needs some time alone,” Dad said, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “I don’t like you two together, and you know that, but I’m telling you this much for your own sake. He needs time and space to accept what happened to him over there, and you need to give it to him. Let him drink. Let him sleep. He’ll come out of it.”

  “But I don’t think he needs space.” I swallowed hard. “I think he needs me.”

  Dad flinched. “I think he needs you, too, but not right now. He’s not ready yet.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you’re my daughter, and I love you.” Dad stood. “And because I won’t be the one to break you two up. Unfortunately, I think he’ll be able to do that just fine without my help.”

  I stiffened. “We’re not breaking up.”

  Dad rested his hand on my shoulder. “Even you have to see the changes already. If you want to make this thing between you work, give him space. He needs it. And pray that he comes out of this resembling the guy he once was.”

  “How do I know you’re not telling me what’s worse for him so we break up?”

  He hesitated before heading for the doorway. “You don’t. You’ll have to just trust that I know what’s best for you—and him.”

  He left, and I was alone for all of two seconds before my mom came in. “Did the men abandon you?” Mom asked, her phone still in her hand. She sat beside me, grabbing the remote and switching on the television. “Did I hear you went shopping without me?”

  I forced a smile. “Just to CVS. Nothing too exciting.”

  “Oh. Well, Downton Abbey is on. You know how much I love that show.” And it was on the only pre-approved channel in this house: PBS. Educational and political all at once. “Want to watch with me?”

  I sighed and settled into the corner of the couch, pulling a throw blanket over my lap. “Sure. Put it on.”

  As Mom started the show, I glanced over my shoulder. I wanted nothing more than to chase after Finn, take away the whiskey, and hold him until he was better. But something told me Dad was right this time. I probably couldn’t fix him with a hug. And maybe it was time to accept one thing about this whole mess.

  He needed more help than I could give him.

  Bombs exploded all around me, punctuated only by the screams of the dying men. I could smell the blood. Taste the fear. Feel the pain. I was sent back there again, living through the attack while everyone else died. But at the same time, I also knew I wasn’t there anymore. I was in bed, alive and safe—unlike the rest of my squad. It was almost like an alternate universe where I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.

  Which haunted me now: Nightmare or reality?

  I sat upright, my eyes scanning my surroundings. Lightly painted walls and expensive furniture surrounded me instead of blood and bombs. Another nightmare. I’d been stuck in the same hell I was in every night, and no matter how much I drank, nothing made it go away. Nothing saved me. I was starting to think nothing could.

  I must have been tossing and turning in my sleep, because my broken arm throbbed like a bitch. My sheets had tangled themselves around my bare feet like a noose, but even so I was still covered with sweat. My door opened and closed. I turned toward it, breathing heavily. It would be Carrie. It was always Carrie. She always calmed me down. Always took care of me.

  I loved her for it, but I hated the need for it at the same time.

  “Are you all right?” Carrie sank on the bed beside me, her hands reaching for my one good one. “You were having the dream again, weren’t you?”

  I flopped back down, hating that she was seeing me like this. Scarred. Weak. Broken. Scared. Maybe I should start gagging myself when I went to bed. Or just give up sleeping altogether. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice a lot harder than I’d wanted it to be. “Just fucking relax.”

  She stiffened. If this had been before I’d been fucked up, she would have snapped back at me. Given me as good as I gave her. But she was walking on eggshells around me. Pampering me. I just wanted her to fight with me and be my stubborn Carrie. I wanted that easy camaraderie back so bad that it hurt more than my arm and my head combined.

  She nodded, nibbling on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Don’t.” I rolled out of the bed. “Don’t apologize to me again.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You keep apologizing when I’m the one being a prick. Stop it.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not being a ‘prick.’”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  She stood up, too, and curled her hands at her sides. “I know you’re stressed and not sleeping well. It’s okay to be a little cranky after what you experienced.”

  “A little bit cranky?” I locked the door. “That’s the understatement of the damn century.”

  She ignored me. Just lifted that stubborn chin of hers higher. “I know this is hard for you to deal with, so I’m not going to fight with you, no matter how hard you try to piss me off.”

  “You never do anymore, Carrie.” I crossed the room slowly, never taking my eyes off her. “You’re too scared to.”

  She bit down on her lip. I watched her, studying the curve of that lip. I loved that little pink mouth of hers. And suddenly, I wanted to taste it. No, needed to taste it. Wanted to feel normal for one fucking minute of today, before I lost myself in the agony that wouldn’t leave me alone. Wanted to go back to how I’d been, instead of what I’d become. “I’m not scared of you, Finn. But tell me, what do you want from me? You want me to fight with you?”

  “Sometimes, yes. But not right now—not anymore.” I stepped closer. “Right now? I want you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “Finn.” She held her hands out. “You already have me.”

  “No. I had you.” I shook my head. “But I haven’t had you since I’ve come back.”

  Comprehension lit her eyes, and she flushed. “Then you can have me.” She closed the distance between us, reaching up to close her palms around the back of my neck. “What are you dreaming about every night? Tell me about it. Talk to me.”

  Talk? I didn’t want to fucking talk. I wanted to feel. Forget. Move on. “I c-can’t, Carrie.” I shook my head, dissipating the bloody images she’d brought to life with her words. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about anything else, but I can’t talk about that night. Not to anyone.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She made a soothing sound, as if I were a baby or some shit like that. That needed to end right fucking now. I was a man. A broken man, but a man nonetheless. “You’re not ready.”

  “I never will be ready,” I managed to say through my suffocating anger. “It’s not something I’m willing to relive through conversation. I already see it every night, and that’s enough for me.”

  She shook her head. “But if you talk to someone, it helps.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not a therapist.”

  A flash in her eyes answered me before she even opened her mouth. A hint of the real Carrie shined through. About damn time. “No, but I am going to school for it.”

  “Occupational.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Still—”

  “Nope. Not happening.”

  She narrowed her eyes on me. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but you need to talk to someone. It will help you recover.”

  Recover, my ass. Therapists made you talk because it made them money. End of story. It wouldn’t help me. Wouldn’t fix me. They’d just tell me to pop some pills and call me healed. Bullshit. I would do it my way, in my own time. “I’m already recovering.”

  She pursed her lips. “I’m not talking about the visible injuries, Finn.”

  “Yeah, well, they are the only ones that matter, as far as I’m concerned.” I hauled her closer. “Can you ever want me again, even with how scarred I am now?”

  She shook her head, and for a second my worst nightmare came to life. “Finn, I never stopped wantin
g you, and I never will.” She rested her hands on my chest, and I almost collapsed from the relief surging through me. “So how can I possibly answer if I’d ever want you again?”

  I tried to believe that. Tried to be optimistic like I’d been before I went overseas and almost got blown to pieces like the rest of my buddies. But she had the benefit of not seeing inside my head. She didn’t know just how far gone I was—so she was still blissfully optimistic. Her world still had rainbows and butterflies and all that shit.

  But me? I saw it all, and part of me thought it might be better for her if I walked away. But we’d promised to stay with each other. Promised no more running or lies.

  Her eyes lowered, and her stare lingered over my abs before dipping even lower. Good. She could see what I fucking wanted right now—her. I wanted to remind her why she was with me, since she probably couldn’t see it anymore. Not when she looked at my wounds.

  All she saw was what I used to be.

  She hesitated. “Finn, I don’t know if you’re ready yet…”

  “Why wouldn’t I be ready?” I stepped closer, and she tilted her face up toward mine. Her pupils flared, and she bit down on her lower lip again. “I’ve been ready since I met you.”

  Her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You know what I mean. With people recovering from trauma, sex can be a trigger. It can make things worse. I don’t want to make you suffer—”

  “The only way I’ll suffer,” I cupped her face with my good hand, my thumb under her jawline, “is if you say no. So don’t say no.”

  Part of me needed to know she still wanted me, scars and all. She might be right, and this might not be good for my head, but fuck it. I needed it. I needed her.

  Carrie

  I knew this wasn’t a good idea. But when he looked down at me like that, all blue eyes and soft words, I couldn’t stop myself from giving him what he wanted—even if it wasn’t what he needed. The two didn’t always go hand in hand, did they?

  Reaching up on tiptoe, I curled my hands around his neck and kissed him, keeping it light and easy. I didn’t want to scare him off or be too pushy. I didn’t need to worry, I guess. He backed me across the room, his breath coming fast, his hand flexing on my chin. I knew he was frustrated with feeling helpless and broken, and I wished I could help him.