Page 76 of Off-Limits Love
LOVE for them.
Let it go.
Finn sat back in his chair once more, numb from expelling all the thoughts and words and emotions. Despite the utter exhaustion he now felt, a humungous weight had been lifted from him.
Such a weird juxtaposition of bad and good. Relief and fatigue. He supposed carrying that much guilt around for so long did that to a person. Dragged at the bones and spirit and psyche until every breath was tinged with pain.
He inhaled until his lungs couldn’t hold more and released the breath with a gush.
When they’d returned to the farm, Mak had thanked him for the ride before she’d told him she’d meant what she’d said along the water about the accident not being his fault.
He’d simply nodded, at which she’d inhaled and sighed, muttering something about “stubborn men” before adding that she could be stubborn too and would be around to remind him when she came back to bake.
She’d left then, but that bit of sass from such a small package and the fact he knew she’d probably gloat in her quiet Mak way should she find out that the letter writing thing had seemed to help, brought a tired smile to his lips.
He thought of her other suggestions about burning the letter or burying it with his parents and decided it couldn’t hurt. He hadn’t been to the gravesite since the day of their funeral, unable to make himself go because of the pain he believed he’d caused everyone.
But now?
Maybe it was time…
Minutes later, Finn stared down at the printed letter turning orange then black. He’d read it through twice before lighting it up in a metal trash can right there in his office.
Probably not the smartest thing he’d done, but he figured the bottle of water on his desk would suffice should things get out of hand.
What he hadn’t considered or thought of was the fire alarm going off, and Gage and Hudson bursting into the house roaring his name and witnessing his fiery tribute.
Smoke curled toward the ceiling, the alarm blared with ear-splitting intensity, and his brothers stopped in their tracks to stare at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Open the windows,” Hudson said. “I’ll put out the fire.”
“Don’t touch it.” The flames were almost out anyway, with only the ashes left—along with the smoke cradling the ceiling like a blanket.
“Somebody, get that alarm,” Gage ordered as he flipped the locks and yanked the panes high.
Hudson rushed to the alarm and flipped it open, then yanked the battery out. Blessed silence followed.
Gage opened the last window in the room, and Hudson eyed the trashcan as though ready to go into fireman mode again. Finn smothered a cough and wondered how he was going to explain.
“Seriously? You couldn’t have walked whatever that was twenty feet outside before setting it on fire?”
Finn smirked. Hudson had crossed his arms over his chest as he’d talked, looking like a put-out father who’d just caught his kid smoking. “Didn’t want to risk a brush fire. And I had it covered.” He motioned toward the water bottle.
“What was that?” Gage asked, moving back in front of the desk.
Finn leaned back in his chair before surging to his feet and rounding the side. “I need a drink.”
“Well, you’ve got water right there.”
Hudson made the statement with enough snark that had Finn’s fist connecting with Hud’s shoulder as he walked by.
“Ow! Not nice considering we came running in to pull your ass out of a fire,” Hudson said as he stalked every step behind him.
His brothers followed him to the kitchen, and he retrieved them drinks from the fridge. “Sorry for the scare. It was nothing.”
“It was something,” Gage said. “Or you wouldn’t have felt the need to burn it.”
Okay, maybe that was true. Especially when the next step was burying it too. Why not? If it worked to put the stutter to rest, he’d do it. “Someone suggested I write a letter and then burn it or bury it.”
