There’s a stretch of silence. Long enough for me to weigh the pros and cons. Pro: could be entertaining. Finn, even with his tendency for dramatics, has always been a fun person. Con: definitely ends in an emotional migraine. I take a breath, step aside, and wave him in.
He walks past me and heads straight for the record player. He then turns the knob and silences my concert.
“Seriously?” I say, arms dropping to my sides.
“Seemed a bit loud, don’t you think?”
“That’s because it’s my house, and I want it loud.”
“Are you, like, permanently here? Or is this some sort of temporary arrangement?”
I narrow my eyes, snatch my rice back from the table, and flop onto the couch, legs curled under me.
“What do you want, Finn?”
He stays by the record player like a statue.
“You do one of those manipulation things they do in movies as a therapist?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You know. Can you get into my head and change things? Make me forget certain things?
“If you’re talking about hypnotherapy, that’s not how it works.”
He starts walking toward me.
“I don’t care what it’s called, Serena, or what it means. I just want
I set the rice aside. I suddenly don’t feel like eating anymore.
to forget.”
ving clock and witchcraft thing movies do.”
“Forget what?” I ask, though I suspect I already know.
“Your sister. I want to forget that she was ever in my life. I want to stop thinking about her, wondering where she is or what she’s doing with my brother. Knox thinks I only want the women he wants. I gotta show him I can want other people. That I can get my own women. I’ve told Delilah to stay away from me. I need Sloane to be out of my life completely. That’s why I’m here. Make me forget.”
He’s not joking. His expression is raw, desperate. There’s a subtle tremor in his voice, the kind that slips out when you’ve run out of armor to hide behind. And for a second, just a second, I feel a pang of pity.
“Umm,” I say, “I have closed for the week. And like I said, that’s not how that works.”
“What’s it going to take? Money? A kidney? Tell me.”
“Honestly?” I deadpan. “I think it would take dementia.”
Finn glares daggers at me, and then he pivots and walks straight toward the bedroom.
“What the hell, Finn?” I say, bolting up and following him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
By the time I catch up, he’s already in the room. He’s prying open the closet with his good hand and pulling stuff out.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting her stuff. I bet she left some here before going to play house with my brother. Maybe if I set something of hers on fire, it would free me from this curse.”
I storm in after him. “Get your hands off my things, Finn.”
He pulls out the small white box I stupidly left in the same drawer Sloane found it. The pregnancy test kit.
I shove him back, but he’s already yanked a shirt off a hanger, one I know belongs to Sloane, and turns to walk back into the living room.
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