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I haven't seenFynn for a few days.
I know in my heart of hearts it has everything to do with Cam. Not that I ever want to see or think about him ever again.
My parents have had me under constant surveillance, never leaving my side, only to bring me hearty, home cooked meals, which I can barely stomach because of how awful I still feel.
It’s been nice being at home with familiar things around me; it helps keep the bad dreams at bay.
The need to see Fynn turns into anxiety. I need to know he’s okay.
The next night, after my first counseling session, he brings over a burger and fries while my parents go over to the neighbors for their ritual Friday night card game.
It gives me and Fynn some time to talk.
“Are you trying to butter me up?” I muse when we go to the kitchen to eat.
“Would I need to?” He grins back.
It’s good to see him in a good mood, but something is troubling him.
“Probably not,” I concede, pulling out a stool at the kitchen island. I wince as I sit.
He stops, placing the food down on the counter. “How have you been?” he asks, concern written all over his face.
“Okay.” I’ve always been a bad liar, so I add, “I’ve just had my first counseling session with Dr Josie Kingston, at the hospital.” I don’t add that she knows everything. She’s very easy to talk to.
He smiles, but again, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m glad you’re talking to someone,” he says, softly. “If it helps.”
“It’s hard talking about it,” I admit. “But my mom and dad think it will help me to move on from this…” I pause as Fynn begins taking the food out. “And I do too.”
I eat a fry, looking sideways at him.
He glances at me. “What is it?”
“Did you see…him?” I ask tentatively.
He takes a slow, deep inhalation. So I know the answer right there.
My heart races in my chest.
I don’t know if I want to hear, now that it’s staring me in the face.
He closes his eyes.
“Fynn?” My voice almost a whisper. “What happened?”
He puts his burger down before he’s even taken a bite. “I fucked up, Sage, that’s what happened.”
My heart feels like it’s going to burst. This isn’t good. “In what way?” I ask, my hands starting to shake, so I try to hold them in my lap.
“Do we really have to get into this right now?” he mutters in annoyance.
I’m not sure why he’s so annoyed. I don’t understand his reaction.
“When is a good time?”
He looks at me then, his eyes softening. “I fucked up.”
My eyes widen. “Why?”
