“Did you wait for my meds to kick in and lower my defenses?”
Cleo giggled. “Maybe? I was going to come in under the guise of bringing an ice pack, but you already have one. Molly?”
“Mhmm?”
“Why is there a purple, veiny penis on your screen?”
“Why do guys think dick pics will work on girls? I mean, I know I have fuckboy tendencies, but I still have standards… dreams… and goals and shit.”
“And emotions.”
Molly groaned and covered her face. “I don’t like those.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have them. You should talk to him.”
“And say what, ChoCho? Real life isn’t like that cliterature stuff you write. Sometimes a woman just wants to be bent over and banged like a screen door in a hurricane.”
Cleo patted Molly’s shoulder. “Except that’s not what you want from Finn.”
It was absolutely what she wanted from Finn. Though it wasn’tallshe wanted from him.
“I’m worried about you, Molly. Like, really worried. I see what you’re doing to yourself. You’re pushing down your feelings for him more and more. I see how it tears you apart when you watch him with someone else. I see you fight the urge to comfort him when he’s sad. I get that Will made him promise. I get that you’re afraid of losing him, even losing both of them, but I’m afraid you’re losing yourself.”
Molly hissed out a long breath.
“I know. We don’t talk feelings. Especially not Finn O’Brien feelings. And I know you’ll say it’s different for me because Linc and I are together now and I’m projecting, or trying to pair you off… or whatever the hell else you’re going to say about it being different.”
She stood up and paced a few steps back and forward. “But ultimately, it’s not different. And what you’re currently doing isn’t working. Trying to fuck Finn O’Brien out of your brain by getting tangled up with best friends, or making your way through a list of fuck buddies… By the way, you were lucky there were no consequences to that. Okay, so they were pissed, but they’re both players, so I guess it didn’t matter. But none of this is helping fix the root of the problem. You need to talk to Finn.”
“Ha.” Molly smacked a hand over her mouth.
“Don’t ‘ha’ me. I’m serious. You need to lay it out on the table and tell him how you feel.”
“What if I lose him?”
“What if you don’t?”
“What if I lose Will?”
“What if you don’t? He’s your brother, Molly. He’s never going to just walk away.”
“Stop coming at me with logic, ChoCho.”
Cleo giggled in the darkness. “Never. You need to talk to him.”
“You keep saying that.”
“And I’ll keep saying it until you do it.”
Chapter 11
Finnegan
Finn had been staring at the ceiling of his therapist’s office in silence for fifteen minutes. He had so much to say that when he opened his mouth the words all rushed into his throat leaving him unable to say anything at all.
“It’s been a while, Finn.” Dr. Hermannsen didn’t ask Finn to lie on the couch. Did anyone ever expect an invitation to lie down in the shrink’s office? Was that something you only ever saw in movies?
The office had a straight backed chair facing the doctor across the oak desk, a plush blue recliner to one side, and a paisley patterned chaise longue to the other. Patients could choose how they wanted to unburden their souls. Finn chose staring at the ceiling.
