Page 56 of Heimlock

The answer still hasn’t appeared by the time I land at Fynn’s. On the way here, I texted to make sure he was home so I could drop the leftovers off. Something Trinte was supposed to do, but since I’ve pissed him off …

Inhaling a fortifying breath, I knock on the door. Within a few seconds, Fynn answers, smiling. “Hey Kyri.” He eyes the bag in my hand. “How was it?”

I hand over the prize and grin. “Delicious. Definitely a good option.”

Fynn motions for me to come in. “Want to tell me about it? Orliana isn’t due home for another hour.”

I step inside, popping off my shoes. Fynn leads me to the kitchen and opens the bag, pulling out the containers.

“Do you think Orliana will like the menu?” he asks, opening the container with dessert options.

I sit on one of the chairs, ignoring the heaviness of my heart. Trinte’s right — neither Fynn nor Orliana deserve the weight of our drama. “Definitely. He veers into the world of garlic with enthusiasm, and she loves garlic.”

He chuckles, grabbing a plate and fork from a cabinet. “I’ve learned that. Never met anyone so enamored with it.”

I snort. “I swear she’d subsist on it for the rest of her life as long as noodles were the conduit.”

Grinning, he sits across from me and takes a bite of the cake. Humming with appreciation, he asks, “What did Trinte think?”

At the mention of his brother’s name, my insides deflate. “I think he liked it.”

Clearly, I’ve failed to school my features because Fynn frowns. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” It comes out too quickly.

Fynn’s frown deepens. There’s an edge to his voice as he repeats, “Kyri, what happened?”

Goddess fucking damnit; tears swell as my cheeks heat from embarrassment. Fynn drops the fork, rushing to grab a box of tissues. Placing it on the table, he sits next to me, scanning my face anxiously.

Is this why Orliana adores him so much?

“Hey,” he says gently, handing me a tissue. “What happened? Do I need to go kick my brother’s ass?”

I chuckle mirthlessly, dabbing at a tear. “No. It’s my fault. All of it’s my fault, Fynn.”

Orliana obviously kept my secret, our secret, because Fynn looks completely lost. “I don’t understand what’s going on between the two of you.”

It’s not fair for him to be the only one of us four with no clue, so I give him the highlights. When I’m done, Fynn’s expression is shuttered. Which makes the hurting in my heart worse. It confirms that I’ve caused more pain than I ever intended.

“See?” I sniffle. “It’s my fault. The moment we agreed that neither of us would quit the gym, we should’ve shaken hands and parted ways.”

Fynn sits back, not correcting me. Renewed tears well in my eyes.

“Trinte is a complicated man,” he starts, the words coming out slowly. Cautious. “I don’t know how much of himself he’s shared—”

“Nothing,” I say bitterly. “I know basically nothing.”

Fynn nods, unsurprised. “Trinte keeps things … close.” At my unimpressed look, he chuckles, but it’s grim. “If it makes you feel any better, he barely shares with me. He’s like a bottomless vault with no key. There’s so much of his life I know nothing about, and will probably never know about.”

Fynn looks away, misty-eyed. His voice cracks as he continues. “I’m not going to divulge my brother’s past, of the bits I’m aware of, but he’s been hurt, Kyrielle.” He looks back at me. “Badly.”

I rub a hand against my chest, trying to soothe the growing ache. “Was it the Weyr reunion? Orliana didn’t tell me what happened, but he just seems so different since.”

Fynn looks at the uneaten dessert. “Let’s just say that something happened and his reaction almost killed a lot of people.”

I sit back in the chair violently, shocked. Trinte? Almost killing people? I’m struggling to visualize it. “Was it a justified reaction?”

“Yes,” he says swiftly. “In any other situation, it would be righteous.”