Page 111 of Always Him

“Again,” I say, and he leans down, his lips brushing the lobe of my ear, and his voice trembles.

“Landon.”

My entire body shakes withsomething. Fuck, what is wrong with my brain? Why can’t I think? Everything is hazy.

“Do you remember?” he asks, his hand clasping mine so tightly, it hurts. But I don’t pull away, I feel anchored by it. With him.

“Remember what?”

A broken sob is wrenched from his lips and he tucks his face into my shoulder. Breathing. Weeping. Why?Why?

“Why?” I ask, my head already throbbing. But he doesn’t answer. No, he just pulls away.

“I just need a minute,” he says, and his face is replaced by someone unfamiliar. Someone I don’t know. But it’s no matter. My eyelids shut and I drift into darkness once more.

When I wake up again, I’ll figure it out. I just know I will.

Because there is a puzzle piece slightly askew, and I want nothing more than to put it back where it belongs.

And I will, but first…fuck. I’m tired. I just need to sleep.

* * *

“With the way he fell, there is a chance of some short-term memory loss. Not sure how severe, so only time will tell,” a deep voice says. “We’ll keep him here overnight to monitor him, but if everything looks good, he can go home tomorrow.”

My eyelids blink open once more. I feel better, better than before. Things are clearer, more in focus. I’m no longer moving through a thick fog. Sleeping helped. Thank fuck because that niggling feeling is back, that feeling that I’m missing something, but maybe now that I’ve rested, I can decipher what it means.

“Um,” I mumble, and all heads swivel toward me. But someone is missing. He’s missing. I can feel it, the absence tangible.

“Where is he?” I ask, feeling frantic. Why isn’t he here? I know he left earlier, but why isn’t he back?

Did he leave for good?

“Where is he?” I ask again when no one responds.

“Who?” my mom asks.

“Finn.”

Everyone is silent, my breath loud and piercing in the air. “Where is he?” I’m growing frantic. I need him. Need him.

“He’s…” my mom’s voice breaks off and then she’s moving out of the room, her eyes red-rimmed, her face splotchy.

And there’s my dad, moving up next to me. His hair is a mess, and his shirt is wrinkled. He looks sad, tired, andweary.

“He’s coming. Calm down, son. Just hold on a minute,” he says softly and then grasps my hand, holding it tightly.

“I just want to go home,” I say and my dad’s head bobs, his eyes watery. “I just want Finn.”

“Yeah, bud. I know.”

I stare at him, just really look at him, memories of my dad filtering through my mind. The time he showed me how to ride a bike, how to hold my hand open to feed the chickens, how he’d tuck me into bed at night, pressing a kiss to my cheek. But all of those memories are wrenched away when I feel Finn approach.

My eyes are peeled away from my dad and zero in on him.

Finn. My Finn.

I pull my hand from my dad’s and shift up, wanting to just crawl to him.

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