“I’m all yours.” She kisses my ribs, and I close my eyes again.
* * *
Finley
“I couldn’t say I love you…when I wanted to say it,” he murmurs. “I didn’t say it how I should have at the island.”
“That’s all right. I always knew you loved me.”
He shakes his head. Tucks his chin to his chest, shuts his eyes. And then he looks at me. It’s quiet in the bedroom, the darkness broken only by beams of milky moonlight. Baby’s in the hallway. I can hear her moving around.
“There’s something I want to tell you, Finny,” he rasps. “Before you stay here a long time…”
“What do you mean?” I can tell he’s feeling the effects of the marijuana. His eyelids are heavy and sometimes he speaks a bit strangely.
“I don’t know if I can tell you.” He sounds pained, which makes my chest ache.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, my darling. All I need is to lie here with you. You elevate those shoulders, and I’ll keep you warm and watered.” I drop a kiss below his pec. It’s been a game of loving him up without teasing him. Because I’m not sure he can be pleasured yet without the movement bringing pain.
“Finley…you remember how you told me…that first time…about your parents?” His voice shakes. “Inside the burrow?”
I nod as my throat tightens.
“You said you like ume candy…and phones with cords…that have colors?”
I nod, smiling a bit that he remembers.
“I like tacos,” he whispers, “and airplanes that can land on water. And I really, really love you. In college one time…I auctioned myself off…and this old lady got a date with me. And we went swing dancing.” He gets a breath, and smiles a bit despite his heavy eyelids. “I liked it. It was really fun.” His face is relaxed, and his eyes look sleepy. So I’m utterly unprepared for what he says next.
“When I was in seventh grade, my mom died. And this man…who worked for my school,” he whispers, “came to tell me. It was at night.” His voice cracks there. “And my mom…she died from suicide.”
He shuts his eyes and swallows hard and takes a deep breath, wincing after. “I was so…fucked up.” He licks his lips. Inhales. “He gave me Xanax. Laurent was his name.” His jaw clenches. “I wish I could hold you.”
I scoot up by him, and I guide his face so that his cheek’s against my chest. I stroke his hair. He’s panting.
I lean down to put my mouth over his—do the breathing thing I do when he’s having anxiety—but I don’t make it before he says, “He raped me. It was just that one time. I was thirteen, but…I didn’t fight him off. I think because of the Xanax. And I was so…surprised. I was so surprised he did it. He came back another time, and I attacked him. After that, I couldn’t sleep, so I needed the Xanax.” He swallows, and I press my lips against his hair. “I blackmailed him…with that secret. So he’d keep getting me the Xanax. I…wouldn’t let him…so he started going to my friend. Nate.”
He weeps as he speaks about Nate. He tells me all of what happened, of finding Nate’s body. Weeping hurts him, so I give him more tincture. As it begins to work, he whispers, “Usually…I try not to. I like pain…because it evens up the score.”
And I realize there’s so much here. There’s so much for us to talk about: a lifetime’s worth of secrets and the healing from them. I hold him as well as I can, and I kiss his cheeks and forehead. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“That’s all?” His voice is soft—so soft I scarcely hear it. “You don’t think it’s…fucking weird? And sick?”
“Weird is not even the second or third thing that comes to mind. I think I love you. And you’ve kept this secret for so long. And now you don’t have to, because I’ll help you. I’ll carry it with you.”
Tears roll down his cheeks. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Then that means you know I love you endlessly. Insensibly. All I want is happiness—for both of us. The Sailor and Siren. I know you’re bothered you were given the Dilaudid. I can feel it haunting you.” He wouldn’t look at me when he told me about it. “But…I trust you, Carnegie. I know how strong you are. Everything is different this time.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, and I wipe his tears. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers.
“I knew I would follow you. If you made it, I knew I’d be on the ship behind you. What I didn’t figure was your father’s offer to come sooner.”
“I wanted you. If you wanted to come.” He whispers, “Needed you.”
“I want to say something.”
His eyes lift open to meet mine.