He says nothing, and I chew on the inside of my cheek.
“Do you think if you’re in a bad headspace, it’s best for you to not be with Skye alone?”
Finn blinks, and a tear rolls down his cheek. “Because I’m a shit dad?”
I frown. “No,” I say instantly. “Because I don’t want you to have that pressure on your shoulders. It’s something we can work through together. I don’t want you to beat yourself up about this. I’m just trying to create solutions.”
“There’s no excuse, Maya,” he whispers as he stands up. “I should have known. She was my responsibility, and I didn’t know. How can I live with that?”
My heart thunders in my chest. “Finn, you’re just overwhelmed right now, okay? It’s a mistake you won’t make again.”
“What if I do, though?”
I swallow thickly. “You won’t.”
Finn’s blazing eyes land on my face. “How do you know that? I’m fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up.”
He starts to pace, and it makes me incredibly uneasy. My lips tremble at his distress.
“Finn, I really need you to talk to me,” I whisper. “Please.”
He manages to stand still before gripping onto his hair. “I’m just…” He trails off. “Scared.”
“Of what?”
“Failing you.”
“You won’t fail me.”
Finn sniffles, and my heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest. “What if I already have?”
I draw in a breath and place Skye down before stepping towards him. I reach my hands out to place them on his arms, but he pulls away, and it feels like a spear has gone through my heart.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper. “Stop pushing me away.”
“I can’t help but think you’re better off without me.”
“No,” I blubber. “I’m not.”
This time, I reach out for him again, placing my palms on his cheeks and rising onto my toes so I can press my forehead against his.
“Whatever’s going on, we can work through it.”
“I’m a ticking time bomb, Maya,” he says through gritted teeth, tears staining his cheeks. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”
My breath is ripped from my chest at his declaration. I knew something was going on, but I want to know the details. Finn releases a sound before his chest starts to heave rapidly, and I stroke his cheeks, brushing away his tears.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t know,” he whispers hauntingly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
The amount of tears that fall from his eyes is alarming.
“I-I can’t do this,” he grunts as if the words are painful.
“You can.” I hold onto him tighter. “I can’t do this without you.”
