Page 100 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

“Come on,” Finn pressed. “Not what Dad wants. Not what’s good for the family. Not what you should want. What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I have everything I could want,” I said finally. “The job, the money, the name.”

“Bullshit.” He said it without heat. “I’m going to ask you again in three hours. Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a junkyard in Queens.

“What the hell is this?” I asked. “If you’re in need of a car, I’ll spot you fifty grand.”

“Therapy.” Finn got out of the cab. “Come on.”

The junkyard was acres of broken-down cars and rusted metal left to decay. A chain-link fence surrounded the whole thing. A sign read “Smash Palace” in spray paint.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“I’m really not.” Finn walked up to a small office where a guy with more piercings than teeth handed him two baseball bats. “Paid for an hour. Let’s have some fun.”

Finn tossed me a bat.

I caught it. “This is your solution? Breaking things?”

“Yep.”

“That’s impulsive and immature.”

“Maybe that’s your problem.” He walked into the yard, bat over his shoulder. “Maybe you need to be a little impulsive and immature for once in your life.”

“I didn’t even do this shit when I was a teenager.”

“Exactly.” He stopped in front of an old sedan with smashed windows and a caved-in roof. “You’ve spent your whole life being responsible. Being the good son. Taking care of everyone else’s problems.” He looked at me. “When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Just because it felt good?”

I thought about Cleo and the couple of days with her. “I do shit all the time.”

“Liar.” Finn swung.

The bat connected with the sedan’s windshield and glass exploded everywhere. The sound was incredible. Sharp and violent and deeply satisfying.

He turned to me, grinning. “Give it a try. It feels good.”

“This is stupid.”

“Probably.” He swung again, taking out a side mirror. “Do it anyway.”

I looked at the bat in my hands. It wasn’t illegal. I wouldn’t be breaking any rules and risking shame to the Bancroft name.

Fuck it. I swung.

The bat connected with a door panel and the impact vibrated up my arms. Something in my chest loosened. Like the weight that I carried shifted a couple of inches.