Page 34 of Evermore

Finn stopped abruptly, his conscious mind catching up with words he didn't remember choosing. River was staring at him with obvious concern and growing confusion.

“Finn,” River said carefully, “you never told me what Dr. Voss said about your condition. You just said something was happening when you texted me.”

The realization that he'd been about to share information from a conversation River hadn't been part of sent ice through Finn's veins. “I think I just had another episode. A small one, but I was about to tell you things.”

River's expression grew more troubled. “These episodes are becoming more complex, more specific. We need to document everything and get you more comprehensive help.”

“Dr. Voss wants to do more testing, regular sessions to monitor my condition.” Finn wiped his eyes with shaking hands. “She thinks it can be managed.”

“That's good news. But in the meantime, I don't want you staying alone. Not when you're losing chunks of time and experiencing reality distortions.” River's protective instincts were clearly in full gear. “Come stay at my place tonight. I want to keep an eye on you.”

The offer of River's cottage, of safety and companionship and the steady rhythm of the lighthouse beam, felt like salvation. “Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden.”

“You're not a burden. You're the person I care about most, and I'm not letting you face this alone.” River's voice was firm with conviction that made Finn's chest warm despite his terror about what was happening to his mind.

River's cottage welcomed Finn like a sanctuary, all warm light and ocean views and the particular comfort that came from being in spaces designed by someone who understood the healing power of natural beauty. Finn found himself moving toward the ocean-facing windows with automatic navigation, drawn to the lighthouse beam beginning its evening rotation with inexplicable familiarity.

“It's starting,” Finn observed, watching the light sweep across the water in its eternal pattern. “The lighthouse, I mean. I love watching it begin the night cycle.”

River paused in hanging up their jackets, something shifting in his expression. “Night cycle?”

“The rotation pattern. It's different at night than during the day, slower and more deliberate.” Finn realized he was sharing knowledge he didn't remember learning. “The beam is designed to provide maximum visibility for ships navigating coastal waters during hours of reduced natural light.”

“Finn,” River said carefully, “the lighthouse is fully automated. It runs the same pattern twenty-four hours a day. There's no day and night cycle difference.”

The correction should have embarrassed Finn, but instead it filled him with confused certainty that his information was accurate. Somewhere in his mind, he possessed detailed knowledge about lighthouse operations that contradicted what River was telling him.

“Maybe I read it somewhere,” Finn said, though the explanation felt inadequate for the specificity of his knowledge.

They prepared dinner together in River's compact kitchen, and Finn found himself moving through the space with startlingfamiliarity. He knew without looking where River kept his good olive oil, which cabinet contained the spices, how to adjust the stove's temperamental burner that required specific handling.

“You're getting comfortable in my kitchen,” River observed, watching Finn locate ingredients without guidance.

“It's a well-organized space,” Finn replied, though privately he was disturbed by how natural River's kitchen felt, like he'd cooked there dozens of times instead of just a handful.

Over dinner, River asked gentle questions about Dr. Voss's assessment and treatment recommendations, his scientific background making him probe for details about methodology and evidence base. Finn found himself describing the appointment with growing confidence, encouraged by River's obvious interest and lack of skepticism.

“She showed me brain scans from other patients with similar symptoms,” Finn said, surprised by how much hope he felt discussing his condition. “Real neurological evidence that what I'm experiencing has a physical basis.”

“That must have been validating after months of being told it was just stress.”

“Incredible validating. And terrifying, because it means this is real and probably progressive.” Finn set down his fork, appetite disappearing as the implications hit him again. “But at least now I have hope that it can be understood and managed.”

“What kind of management strategies did she suggest?”

“Regular monitoring sessions, detailed documentation of episodes, eventually some experimental approaches to help me gain conscious awareness during altered states.” Finn hesitated, then decided to voice his growing fear. “River, what if the treatment doesn't work? What if this condition just keeps progressing until I lose myself completely?”

River reached across the table to take Finn's hand, his touch warm and steadying. “Then we adapt. We find ways to supportyou through whatever comes next. But we're not giving up hope before we've even tried.”

The simple promise of continued support, regardless of what his condition might mean for their future, broke something loose in Finn's chest. “I love you,” he said, the words emerging without conscious decision but feeling absolutely true.

River's eyes widened slightly, not with surprise but with recognition, as if he'd been waiting for those specific words. “I love you too. More than I thought possible after such a short time.”

“It doesn't feel like a short time, does it?” Finn asked. “It feels like we've been building toward this conversation for much longer than we've actually known each other.”

“It feels like coming home to someone I've been looking for without knowing I was searching,” River agreed, his thumb stroking across Finn's knuckles with gentle insistence.

That night, River offered his bed while insisting he'd take the couch, but Finn's anxiety about sleeping alone in an unfamiliar space made River reconsider. They settled together in River's bed with careful distance that gradually dissolved as Finn curled against River's warmth, seeking the comfort that seemed to quiet his racing thoughts.

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