Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

The last of the tension trickles away, and I manage to smile as I pull back. “Need help wrapping the bush?”

“Please. The weather report says there’s frost coming.”

Spending the rest of the afternoon with Mom, everything soon feels right in the world again.

Chapter 7

FINLAY

I’m up in the guest bedroom with the excuse I’m getting ready for the BBQ. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, along with my sneakers, this is as good as I’m going to look.

I have my hair down, and it’s irritating me. Everything about my body’s been shafting at my soul. I wish I could get a make-over. New hair. New face. New skin. New everything.

Letting out a sigh, my eyes snap to the door when I hear a familiar deep voice come from downstairs. Emotion bubbles in my chest, and darting from the bed, I yank the door open and rush down the stairs.

Seeing Uncle Josh, who resembles Dad in so many ways, the emotion almost breaks the walls I’ve constructed around the trauma.

Uncle Josh’s eyes land on me, a wide smile splits over his face, and he opens his arms. “Finlay-girl.”

I don’t stop until I slam into him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

He even smells like Dad.

A layer of protection washes over me, and it feels like my soul can breathe for the first time since the attack. Squeezing my eyes shut, I can almost imagine Dad’s home.

Uncle Josh wraps me in a bear hug. “Damn, it’s been too long. How’s my girl been?”

I can only nod and have to fight to regain some control over my rampant emotions.

Uncle Josh pushes me a little back so his eyes can drift over my face. “Spitting image of your mother.” His smile is warm, familiar, loving, and filling my heart with a sense of safety.

“I missed you,” I whisper, the emotions brimming in my voice.

“Aww… I missed you too. I’m glad you decided to move closer to us.” Uncle Josh keeps his arm around my shoulder, tucking me against his side. “Catch me up on your life.”

We walk out the back and take a seat near the grill.

I shrug. It’s hard to tell him about my life before the attack because it feels like it was someone else's life.

“Still making music?” Uncle Josh asks, his gaze sharpening on me.

He’s picking up there’s something wrong. Try harder, Finlay.

I force my lips to curve up. “Yeah, still love music.” My eyes drift over his familiar features, and it has my throat closing up.

God, I miss my Dad more than ever.

“How’s work?” I force the words through my dry lips.

Uncle Josh relaxes in the chair, keeping his arm around my shoulders. I lean against him, soaking in the protection my soul’s been starving for.

“Same old,” he says. “But I think the road’s getting tired of me.”

My smile grows a little. “Or you’re getting tired of the road?”

“Yeah. Suppose.” Uncle Josh glances down at me. “You’re coming home with me after the BBQ?”

I can’t nod quick enough. “If you don’t mind.” I’ll feel so much safer living with Uncle Josh until I can move into my own place.

“Of course, I don’t mind. You can stay with me for as long as you want. It will be nice having you around. I’ve been missing Quinn.”

My soul sighs with heavy relief.

“Thank you.”

Uncle Josh tilts his head. “Is something wrong?”

I quickly shake my head. “It just doesn’t feel like home here at Eli’s,” I go with a believable truth.

The Jacksons arrive, and when Uncle Josh pulls away from me to greet them, I instantly feel unsafe again.

I stay glued to my chair, paying way too much attention to a weed growing next to my sneaker. I know it’s rude, and I should introduce myself to Eli’s parents, but I just need a moment to gather myself.

“Nina, this is my cousin, Finlay,” I hear Quinn say.

Sucking in a deep breath, I force myself to my feet while it takes a lot to lift my eyes to Eli’s mom. I’m met with a friendly smile as Nina looks at me. Unlike other people, she doesn’t offer me her hand, and I appreciate it.

“Hi, Finlay. It’s nice to meet you,” Nina says, her voice warm and soft.

Our eyes lock, and I watch as her smile falters for a moment. I swear it feels like I’m looking into a mirror as we stare at each other, my trauma reflected back at me.

“Hi, Nina,” I manage to whisper.

She tilts her head then gestures to the trees lining the property. “I hope you love it here in Southport. Our house is a couple of miles in that direction. Like I told Quinn, my kitchen door is always open for a cup of coffee.”

It feels like her words carry a double meaning, and it makes me uncomfortable.