A vibration in the front pocket of his jeans jarred him from getting in too deep. A selfie he’d taken with Will when they were younger lit up Finn’s screen announcing his call. Their faces on the screen were smushed together, tongues sticking out, noses crinkled, and crazy wide eyes. They were at the state fair, hyped up on sugar and, as always, trying to one-up each other – even when it came to something as simple as making faces in a photograph.
“S’up?” Finn padded through the house and up to his room.
“Home safe?”
“Yes, Mom.”
Will didn’t laugh, or even reply, but the heavy silence hanging over the line between them said it all. For as long as they’d been friends, throughout the month of February, Will called Finn every night before he went to bed. Neither of them had ever talked about why, but the gesture warmed Finn’s heart. He stripped off in the darkness and climbed into bed.
Will cleared his throat. “It’s okay to talk about him, you know?”
Some nights the calls were lip-service, a “Hey man, I tried this new flavor protein bar I think you’d like,” while others were a little deeper. The former he could handle, the other took a cosmic effort to keep himself together. It looked like tonight was gonna be the latter. His muscles thrummed.
“I know.”
“It’s okay to miss him, too.”
Another sigh. “I know that too.”
“You don’t have to be strong all the time, either.”
Finn couldn’t reply, his throat clogged by years of self-blame and never having the right words.
“Have you heard from them?”
“No.” He wouldn’t, either. Finn’s relationship with his parents had gone from bad to worse after Liam’s death, and while a tiny part of him wished they’d reach out, it was better for everyone that they didn’t.
“Mom called.” Will took a drink of something. “She’s worried about you. She wants you home for dinner some night this week.”
Home. From the minute Finn had first stepped into the Morrison’s house, Mrs. Mo stepped into the role of being his mom. Without question.
“I’ll try.”
Will’s laugh was strained. “I told her you’d say that.”
“What else did you tell her?”
“I said I’d drag your ass to dinner as long as she made your favorite meal.”
His mouth watered. He groaned. “That’s not playing fair. You know she makes the best ribs in the Continental United States, man.”
“Whatever it takes. I’m not above playing dirty.”
Finn snorted. “From the most vanilla guy on the team. Says a lot when you get down and dirty, Will. I appreciate it.” And he did. Despite the urge to retreat further into his shell, to hide under the covers and sleep until March, the warm tug of his chosen family, their insistence to not let him suffer alone… it was everything.
***
Finn woke up with a start, his legs tangled in sheets, and firm hands clutching his shoulders. In the darkness, his chest heaved, beads of sweat slid down his face, and his hot skin meeting the crisp night air made goosebumps prickle up his arms.
After a beat, Sébastien, the Snow Pirates goaltender, spoke, his hushed whisper piercing the silence. “Ça va?”
Finn patted his hand. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”
Séb released his hold on Finn’s shoulders. “Are you sure? It sounded like a bad one.”
They were all bad. And while he didn’t have nightmares often, they were always worse in fucking February. “I’m fine, Séb, thanks. Don’t sweat it.”
“I think you are sweating enough for the both of us, Finn.”
