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Finn made his way into the living room as the doorbell rang.
“Can you get that?” Zeke asked.
Finn handed the men their beers, nodding to Mason before he went to the entryway. Opening the door, two familiar faces came into view.
“Damon, Steven, glad you guys could make it.” Finn stepped aside so they could enter.
Steven’s hands held out a pie. “Thanks for having us. Where should we put this?”
“Kitchen, down the hall.”
Steven walked ahead. Damon turned to face Finn. “Thanks for this. For giving me another chance.”
Finn nodded, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Charli’s in the kitchen, but us guys are watching the game. Can I get you a beer?”
“No, thanks, messes with my meds, but I’d love some coffee.” Damon nodded towards the kitchen.
“I’m sure my mom’s got some ready.” Finn returned to the living room as laughter rang out from the kitchen where their two new guests had disappeared.
Finn took a seat on the couch, tipping the beer to his lips, watching blankly as the football moved across the screen. He tried to focus, but he couldn’t enjoy this moment. It was like he wasn’t fully there. His body was going through the motions, laughing at the right time, responding with short sentences.
The buzzing sound in his head grew louder as he sat down for dinner with the family. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying their time. Mason was more reserved than the other guests, but he still had everyone breaking out into fits of giggles. Aspen seemed a lot like her father, but more inquisitive. She seemed to hang on every word Charli or Claire said, a bit of wonderment in her eyes. Damon and Steven went on and on about how delicious dinner was. It looked good, but for some reason Finn found himself forcing the food down. Everyone seemed happy to be together, sharing stories. But Finn was like an outsider looking in. He was numb. Why am I like this?
He drank his fourth beer, getting up to grab another.
Charli’s eyes snagged on his as he stood, her brows drawn together in concern. “You okay?” she asked quietly. Still, a few sets of eyes tracked his movements.
He leaned and kissed her cheek. “Just need some air.”
Dropping the glass into the recycling bin before he grabbed another beer from the fridge, he then headed out the back door. The cold November air slithered through his Henley, biting his skin. The crisp temperature was a nice break from the overly warm home. All the trees had shed their leaves, save for a few evergreens in his parents’ backyard. A few big bags full of leaves sat off to the right. His mother’s garden had already been ripped up, void of the vegetables she’d long ago harvested.
The door behind him opened and shut with a creak. Heavy footsteps padded closer, Mason appearing at his side.
Mason offered him a cigar.
“No, thanks.” Finn pressed the glass bottle to his lips, taking another long pull of the alcohol zipping through his system, loosening him up. “Didn’t know you smoked.”
“Only occasionally.” Mason flicked the lighter open, puffing on one end of the large cigar. “How are you doing?”
“Fantastic,” Finn answered sarcastically, focusing on the worn garden gnome at the edge of his parents’ privacy fence.
Mason pulled out his wallet, his beefy fingers digging out a black business card before handing it to him. “This lady is the best. Lots of experience and credibility.”
Finn accepted the paper as he took another swig of his drink. His muscles grew rigid as he scanned the name. Rebecca Cole. Veritas Counseling Services specializing in EMDR for PTSD.
“Did Charli put you up to this?” Finn snapped, the beer in his mouth turning bitter. Was she telling his business to anyone who would listen?
Mason just shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Charli didn’t tell me jack shit. But from one vet to another, I can recognize the signs.”
Finn pressed his beer to his temple, a migraine taking hold. “I don’t fucking have a problem.”
“That’s what my wife said too. Two months later . . .” Mason shook his head before taking another puff of his cigar and blowing it out. Mason turned to face him, locking Finn in his steady gaze. “I was once where you were at. I know you don’t think you need help. You probably think you can handle this all on your own. And maybe you’re right, but maybe . . . you’re wrong.” He pressed the butt of the cigar out on the dirt before tucking it into his fist as if waiting to dispose of it inside.
“What do you care?”
Mason sighed and looked out at the dreary sky. “That woman on the card saved my life, saved my relationship with my daughter. You and I were friends once upon a time. Even though you don’t remember me, it doesn’t erase the fact that I want the best for you. It can’t hurt to try it out. Man up and do it for your girl, and that little boy in her womb, until you can do it for yourself.” With that, Mason turned and went back into the house.
Finn stared at the paper in his hands and shook his head. How could he talk to a stranger when he couldn’t even be completely honest with his wife? “Fuck,” he grumbled, squeezing the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding. He crumpled the paper and tossed it in the firepit off to the side. The only woman I need to talk to is my wife. Hopefully she’d understand.
