Page 49 of Always Him

I don’t even have the energy to find my brother to tell him I’m leaving.

I don’t want to have to explain. I just need to get out of here.

I slip through the crowd and out the front door, and get in the waiting sedan.

When I arrive home, I move up the stairs, shooting a text to Logan, letting him know I’m home safe. I don’t text Finn, though. I don’t want him to feel obligated to come home to me.

I want him to have fun. I want him to be happy. I do.

Fuck, I want him to come home.

Come home to me, Finn.

The door shuts behind me and I shuck my sweatshirt, tossing it onto the couch and feeling my nose prickle, my eyes blinking rapidly.

Is this how it will be when he’s with someone else? When he finds his person and I’ve been replaced? I hate it already. Dread it.

Moving into the bathroom, I peel off my shirt and stumble slightly, my hands grasping onto the counter to steady myself. My eyes meet my watery gaze in the mirror and I shake my head.

I am not going to keep crying. Jesus. I’m a full-grown man. Get a grip.

A tear slips down my cheeks and I swat it away.

I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to wash the day away and try not to think of Finn with someone else.

Someone who isn’t me.

I fumble to unzip my jeans, my throat working dramatically, my hands shaking.

I sit down on the toilet, pulling them down my thighs and working my prosthetic off, then reach over and turn on the warm water.

Then I just stare at the shower chair.

Fuck, I wasn’t paying attention and I did this all out of order. Now what the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t feel like starting over. What a fucking chore. Fuck it, I’m not putting my prosthetic back on. I can do this. I push myself up, grabbing onto the edge of the tub but my hand slips from the condensation and I tumble to the side knocking my ribs roughly against the tub and then falling to the floor, my forehead hitting the tile with a smack.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I push myself up and sit on the mat, leaning against the tub and feeling disoriented, dumb, and sad. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never done that before.

I gotta get my shit together.

I press my fingers to my throbbing forehead and pull my hand away. No blood, so that’s good, but hell, there’s a bump there.

A big goose egg. Stupid fucking leg.

I grab onto my toppled prosthetic and tug it on, my entire body shaking with pent-up frustration. I will not cry again. I’m just feeling sorry for myself and it’s stupid. I can take care of myself; I just need to focus. Just because Finn is off doing who-knows-what with sexy barista dude doesn’t mean I need to fall to pieces.

I work myself up, standing on wobbly legs, and look at myself in the mirror. A large bump sits right in the middle of my forehead. I look like a rhinoceros.

Just put me in the zoo. Everyone can gawk at it.

I touch it tenderly, and then drop my hand down to my side and take a deep breath.

Nothing to be done about it now, so I just climb into the shower, trying to follow my normal routine but end up just sitting, eyes closed, beneath the warm spray, my mind everywhere.

And always settling on him.

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