Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(66)

“Because you wanted and needed to forget what you saw,” I remind him.

He shuts his mouth. He can’t deny it. It’s the truth and he knows it. I lift my coat and purse from the floor. “You don’t need this,” I say. “Any of it. Not with the championship bout so close, and not when you were making so many gains in your recovery.”

Again he steps in front of me when I try to walk away, his breaths releasing in quick succession. “What are you saying?”

In the tears that follow his face blurs in front of me. “That you don’t need me, Finn.”

The silence between us is so pronounced it feels like an invisible weight shoving against my chest. It pushes me further away from him. But he won’t let me go. “You’re wrong,” he says, snagging my arms and yanking me close when I try to leave. “You’re all I need.”

His arms circle my waist as his lips collide against mine, the force strong enough to bend me backward. “Don’t leave me,” he rasps between kisses to my neck and mouth. “I need you.”

My body betrays me, aching with how it responds to his touch. But Finn’s needs―the ones I’ve neglected for far too long are more important than anything I’m feeling. I wrench away from him, staggering backward and holding tight to my belongings.

“Sol,” he says, following me as I step away. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Finn, I have to,” I say, choking on my words. “Don’t you see? All I’ve done is hold you back from the good you can have.”

“No,” he grinds out. “You’re the only good left in me.” He marches forward, grasping my hips and lowering his face inches from mine. “I love you. Do you hear me? I f*cking love you.”

I fall apart then, sobbing into my hand. Of all the things he could have said, nothing could have crushed me like this. Pain . . . all I feel is pain.

“Sol . . .” he says. “You told me you love me, are you trying to tell me you don’t? Are you trying to say that all this time you’ve been lying about how you feel?”

I compel myself to look at him. “No. I’ll always love you, Finn. But right now, you need to love yourself more. Right now, I’m the worst person for you. I don’t want to be, but I am.”

He throws his hands out. “That’s not true!”

I take a step back, motioning to him. “Finn, look at yourself. You’re hungover after getting so drunk last night you could barely walk. And why? Because of what you saw, what you experienced, and everything you’ve endured by being with me.”

For a moment he simply stares, but he doesn’t argue because he can’t. “Let me go,” I plead with him. “Give yourself this chance to get well.”

“Don’t do this,” he says. “Sol, don’t f*cking do this to us!”

My arms ache with the need to hold him―to soothe that bruised expression claiming every inch of his face. But I can’t. So despite what I want, I give him what he most needs: an opportunity to heal.

My purse slaps against my side as I turn away, hurrying out the door before I change my mind. I’m not what Finn needs to be healthy. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be.

The door slams hard behind me as I rush into the hall, a sob breaking through my throat when he calls my name one the last time.





CHAPTER 26


Finn



“Elbow, elbow, push kick. Elbow, elbow, knee. Knee. Rear push kick. Okay, now pushups.”

I bark my orders as I perform each task. I’m dragging myself and everyone on my team to the breaking point, and still, I can’t feel anything but rage. I hit fifty pushups and leap to my feet. “Roundhouse, roundhouse, roundhouse. Higher. Roundhouse, roundhouse.”

My shin repeatedly slams into the Muay Thai bag, each strike as hard as the last. I don’t care what’s happening. And I don’t ease up, ignoring the way my heartbeat pounds like a sledgehammer.

My body is warning me I’m exhausted, and that I need to slow down. That doesn’t stop me or scare me from issuing my next set of commands. “Switch, roundhouse, roundhouse . . .”

“That’s enough,” Killian calls from behind me. “Take three laps, cool down, and stretch.”

Our team collectively groans, abandoning the row of bags and starting their half-assed attempts at a jog around the gym floor. Me, I keep going. Roundhouse, push-kick, jab, jab, spinning elbow, uppercut.

“Finn, stop,” Killian says, lowering his voice.

I ignore him, leaping into my kicks.

“Come on,” he says. “Take a break from the bag.”

“Gotta make weight,” I tell him, switching from legs to arms.

“You keep this shit up, you’re going to come in underweight. Come on, start your cool down.”

I shrug. “Okay.” I walk away from him and head for the treadmill, cranking it almost as soon as the engine starts. I’m being an * to him, and anyone who tells me shit I don’t want to hear. The problem is, lately that includes everyone.

That numbness I’ve felt in the past, hell, I thought that was bad. But all this rage that’s been unleashing since Sol walked out on me, it’s made me a dangerous man. Knowing how bad I can f*ck someone up should scare me, force me into action, something. But instead I stopped going to counseling the minute my court mandated time was up and let my anger brew―let it take me, reasoning it’s better than feeling nothing.