I gasped when his fingers dug hard into my arms and he tugged me closer to him. His nails burrowed into my skin as he held me close. He was all heat and fury, wrapped around me, scorching my skin in the all the places that we touched. I couldn’t decide if I should run like I did before or stay and face the consequences for my past actions. Somehow that didn’t seem fair since he still hadn’t paid for his.
I decided to stay and face him. Looking up at him, blue orbs swirled back at me, his eyes leaving no part of my face untouched. I couldn’t breathe. His hard chest was like a brick wall squeezing the oxygen from my lungs.
“You bled for me? Well, I didn’t bleed for you, Faith. I died for you. There’s a big fucking difference. You didn’t wound me; you killed me. You murdered the boy I used to be in his sleep and he’s never coming back. All that’s left of that boy is me, and all you’ll ever get from me is a quickie and a door in your face.”
He released me and the spot where his fingers were digging ached. Wrapping my arms around myself, I rubbed at the sore areas. He looked down at my arms and closed his eyes hard as if he were feeling my pain.
When he opened them, his expression had softened. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He reached out and ran a finger down my arm. “Even now the thought of hurting you hurts me. It’s a bad habit I can’t seem to break.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get away from him and I had to stay away. I turned and walked away. I snatched up my keys and walked out his front door and out of his life again.
It wasn’t until I was about to climb into bed later that I realized I’d forgotten my purse.
Twenty-Six
Finn
“Fuck!” I yelled out loud as I punched a hole through my bedroom wall.
I’d fucked up a lot in my life, but having sex with Faith was by far the worse and best thing I’d done in a long time. It was amazing—beyond amazing. It was everything I’d fantasized about for the last four years of my life. And while I’d experienced a release like I hadn’t since the last time I was with her, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just royally fucked myself.
After years of dealing with the loss of Faith in my own way, I’d taken one big step back. The only way it didn’t hurt to be without her was to hate her, and I’d definitely done the opposite of that in my bathroom. The worst part was all the emotions I’d spent the last four years burying had resurfaced just that quickly and I didn’t know what to do with them. After going so long not feeling, it was scary to feel again. The way I saw it was emotion was a bad thing and Faith brought out entirely too many damn emotions.
It wasn’t like when I fucked a random girl, which is what I’d been doing for the last four years. It was so much more. There’d been eye contact and touching. I actually cared about how she felt and whether or not she got off. It felt so wrong and so right all at the same time.
I could hardly believe my eyes when I walked into my bathroom and found her naked in my bathtub. I watched her as she bathed. The way the light reflected off of her moist skin and the way she’d rubbed the water and soap onto her body. I thought for a second I was going to come in my pants right then.
It had been so long since I’d been with a woman, and when she told me she touched herself with thoughts of me, I was done. There was no way I would’ve been able to control what happened next.
How was she able to pull me back in that way? And why wasn’t I able to just blow it off as a fuck like I usually did? It was as if she’d weaved some crazy web of innocent seduction all around me and I was stuck and couldn’t get out. I was thoroughly tangled in her snare and I fucking hated it.
When I turned around, Zeke was standing there staring back at me.
“You okay, man?” he asked calmly.
Nothing shocked Zeke and he was always so chill about everything.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just need to blow off some steam,” I said as I rubbed my busted knuckles.
“Want to talk? There’s some beers in the fridge.” He started toward the kitchen.
I followed behind him. He tossed me a beer over the counter and I popped it open and sucked down half of it.
Zeke and I weren’t big on heart-to-heart talks, but I guessed if anyone understood relationships, it would be him. And while the rest of the guys would have ragged me about it, Zeke would understand since he was in a relationship.
I spent the next hour telling Zeke all about Faith. He listened carefully and shook his head from time to time. He almost spewed beer on himself when I told him that our new maid was the Faith I was talking about.
“Damn, man. That’s fucked up,” he said. “So what are you going to do about her?”
“I don’ t know. She makes me fucking crazy,” I said as I took another swig from my third beer.
He chuckled softly to himself. “That’s all women. They’re nuts, but love makes you that way. Don’t let the past get in the way of your future, dude. If you love her, you have to try. Pride’s a bitch, but it’s not worth losing the girl you love.”
He gave my shoulder a squeeze as he stood up from his stool and walked by me. “If you need to talk again, you know where I am.”
I watched him walk away. His words moved around in my head while I finished my beer.
I spent the rest of the night mentally kicking my own ass. I felt bad for the things I’d said to Faith, and even when I pulled out her letter and read it, it still didn’t anger me enough to not worry about whether or not I’d hurt her. I clutched her cross in my palm until I was sure it would puncture my skin and I’d bleed all over—bleed for her the way she swore she bled for me.
I drowned myself in vodka with Chet and Tiny when they got home and smoked so much cush that I went into my room and passed out. I had dreams of her face in pleasure. I could practically hear her moaning in my sleep. I had dreams of her body as she took me in and held me like no other woman ever had.
I woke the next morning feeling even worse. I couldn’t help but hope she came back to work so we could talk things out. Obviously, there were lies floating around. I figured that out when she mentioned the letter I’d written to her. I never wrote her letter. Honestly, I hadn’t even known where she was even if I wanted to send her a letter. If there really was a letter out there from me to her, it wasn’t a real one. And if hers wasn’t real, who’s to say the letter I got from her wasn’t real either?
My brain was practically smoking I was thinking so many things. Finally, I had to climb out of bed and move or I was going to make myself crazy. I needed to stop thinking for just a second and take a few deep breaths. Things were getting chaotic in my mind, and I didn’t want to have a meltdown.
I went into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Orange juice spilled down my chest as I downed it straight out of the carton. After finding a Pop-Tart in the cabinet, I sat on a barstool and devoured it. Anything that made me feel better at that point was my friend—food was my friend.
It was then that I noticed her purse sitting on the counter. I looked around to see if maybe she’d come in when I wasn’t paying attention, but she was nowhere to be seen. Everyone else was still in bed so the condo was completely quiet. If she was anywhere cleaning, I would’ve heard her.
I pulled the purse over to me and unzipped it. It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. There were so many things I wanted to know about Faith—things about the last four years of her life that I couldn’t help but wonder about. Had she been in any other relationships? Was she in one now?
It wasn’t a big purse, so I was surprised when I pulled out a full-sized journal. Smiley faces and crosses covered the outside cover. The binding was unraveling it had been opened and closed so much. It sounded like it was cracking when I opened it, and the pages all looked as if they’d been wet by some dark liquid.
I flipped through the pages quickly and landed on a page with a dried flower stuck in the center. The flower was old and cracking. I wondered briefly if maybe a boyfriend had giv
en it to her. I felt bad for that thought when I read the passage and realized the flower was from Amanda’s funeral. The words on the page told how Faith had felt when Amanda died and how she wouldn’t have made it through without me. I felt tears sting my eyes. I could remember how she came to me and how badly I’d needed her, too.
I slipped the flower back inside the book and moved on. Flipping through the pages, I found my name a few times and every time, it had been something sweet written in there about me. I smiled to myself when I got to the page where she talked about being with me at the beach. When I found the page about the night she’d given herself to me, I had to wipe tears from my cheeks.
It was wrong to read her journal, but it was so insightful. It made me angry that I’d missed so much of Faith’s life when she was such a big part of mine. If I went by these words, I was a big part of hers, too.
I flipped through a few more pages until I didn’t think I could read another word. There was so much truth. She had so much love for me, yet she had walked away to keep me from going to jail. It had killed her to walk away from me. I could see that in the painful words that were written for me, blurred by stale tear drops on the old paper.
When I flipped through the pages again, a folded-up piece of paper fell out. Unfolding the paper, I looked down at the words scribbled across the page and felt shocked at what I was reading. It was a letter from me, except it wasn’t. I’d never written a letter. It wasn’t even my handwriting. Not to mention, the words that were written across the page were words I would’ve never said to Faith. I loved her—I still did. I would’ve never hurt her that way, and I was already feeling shitty about the way I’d been treating her.
The jagged handwriting that swept across the page looked familiar, and I was positive I knew where I’d seen it before. Rushing back into my bedroom, I grabbed my wallet and pulled out Faith’s letter. I ran back into the kitchen and laid the two side by side. As I suspected, the handwriting was almost exactly the same.
Just like that, everything became so clear to me. Someone was hell-bent on keeping Faith and me apart, and I was positive I knew who that someone was. The preacher man, as holy as he pretended to be, had spun so many lies around Faith and me that we no longer knew what to believe.
I hated that bastard for taking away the only woman I’d ever loved. I hated him for taking away a future that I’d longed for my entire childhood. Not that I wasn’t happy with Blow Hole, but had I been with Faith, things would’ve turned out much differently. I could’ve had a family—kids.
I’d thought a lot about finally having kids and being there for them the way my father never had been. I’d give my kids the life I never got. I’d be in their life no matter what. At least one good thing had come from being a foster kid when I was younger. Because of my time in the many foster homes, I knew exactly what not to be when I had children of my own. I knew that no matter what, I’d be a damn good father.
All of that seemed like an impossible dream. There was no way to make it better. Too many bad things had happened over the years—too many bad memories. I’d said too many things that I couldn’t take back, and I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see my face again. My chest burned when I thought about never seeing her again. I’d lost her again, and this time I had only myself to blame.
The fact was I loved her. I’d never really stopped loving her, and when I wasn’t too busy hating her, I could see that. Faith was all I ever wanted, and I was going to try with all my might to get her back.
I took a shower and got dressed. When everyone woke up and left for the day, I stayed and waited for Faith. Even if she didn’t come back to work, she’d have to come back for her purse. That was another thing… Her working for me had to stop. She was the girl I loved, and I wasn’t going to have her scrubbing toilets anymore.
Hours went by and still no Faith. I was starting to worry and bite my nails, which I never did anymore. I thought I was about to come out of my skin when I heard the front door open. I was sure it was probably the guys coming back, but when I turned around, I saw Faith standing there with my folded T-shirt and boxers in her hand.
She stood there like the weeping willow I’d always pictured her as. Her hair flowed around her shoulders and her big brown eyes looked wounded. I hurt her. She was hurting and it was my fault.
“I forgot my purse,” she said as she turned and went toward the kitchen.
“Faith, wait. We need to talk.”
“I think you said enough yesterday,” she said with her back to me.
Again, I felt awful for everything I’d said to her from the moment we ran into each other again until the day before when I’d all but cussed her in the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” I said easily.
Sorry had never been an easy word for me, but I truly was this time. I was so sorry for everything I’d ever said and done to her, and I wished I could take it all back.
She turned and looked at me, her eyes pulled down in confusion. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry for everything. I was an asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry.”
Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them before they could escape.
“I just want you to know some things. One: I didn’t sleep with Jenny. I was drunk and passed out. Thinking about it now and knowing that you came back and I didn’t know you did makes me sick to my stomach. The last four years have been hell for me.”
More tears came and she didn’t stop them from falling.
“For me, too,” she whispered.
I pulled out the two letters and handed them to her.
“And this is number two,” I said.
She unfolded each one and read them. When she looked back up at me, she started crying. Pulling her into my arms, I held her close to me.
“Don’t cry, baby. Everything’s okay now.”
She felt so good in my arms. It was as if the last four years never happened—like we’d just picked right up from the night she left. I’d take care of her. I’d make sure no one ever hurt her again. I had the ability to make everything perfect in her life, and I was determined to do it.
She pulled away and continued to cry.
“Everything’s not okay, Finn. There are things…” She stopped. “You know what? I can’t do this right now. I need time to think. I need to go and think.”
She took off with her purse in hand toward the front door. Following behind her, I grabbed her hand before she could leave.
“Don’t do this to me again, Faith. I need you,” I said honestly.
She placed her forehead against the door and took a deep breath. When she turned my way again, I held my arms out to her and she melted into my chest.
I breathed her in and rubbed her back. She was everything I ever wanted. She looked up at me and I leaned down and softly kissed her. She kissed me back and moaned sweetly in my mouth.
Things were going great until suddenly she pulled away again. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sniffled. I used my thumb to wipe away her tears.
“Whatever it is, we can fix it,” I whispered in her hair.
That was the trigger. She pulled away completely and turned toward the door again. As she reached out for the knob, I watched her shoulders droop in defeat.
“It can’t be fixed,” she said sadly.
Then a thought hit me. Maybe she was already with someone else. Maybe he was good to her and she loved him. If that were the case, then my chance to find happiness would never come. If she was already taken, then I’d never be with another woman the way I was with Faith.
“Is there someone else?” I asked. The words choked me as they came out.
My chest ached with my words. I couldn’t stand the thought of another man having what I wanted.
Her face went pale as she stared back at me with big brown eyes. “Something like that,” she said.
And then she turned away and left. This time she slammed the door behind her. A picture of a gu
itar fell from the wall next to the door and broke all over the expensive flooring. It shattered into pieces exactly the way my heart did… again.
Twenty-Seven
Faith
I cried the entire drive home. Things were so screwed up and I didn’t know what to do. Finn was basically trying to mend things with me and I wanted it—I wanted to be with him so bad. The only problem was I knew the minute I told him about Jimmy, he would hate me again. Either that or he’d try to take Jimmy away.
As badly as I wanted everything Finn was offering me, I couldn’t take that chance—not when my child was involved.
I felt bad because Finn deserved to know about Jimmy. He deserved to be a parent just as much as I did. All the reasons that we weren’t together were lies spun by my father to keep me away from Finn. Neither of us was theoretically in the wrong, and if we started pointed fingers, technically, I was the one who walked away from him.
Another thing I had to worry about was work. No way could I continue to work for the boys. I couldn’t clean up for Finn, knowing everything that happened since we reunited. Plus, the more I went around him, the more likely I was to tell him about Jimmy. I just didn’t know what to do. I was stuck between a rock and hard place.
When I walked in the front door, Mom was sitting on the couch. Jimmy was napping on his dinosaur sleeping bag on the floor in front of the TV.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” she asked when she saw me crying.
I spent the next hour telling her everything. From the moment I left Finn in South Carolina to the moment I’d left him not twenty minutes before. I pulled out the two letters that I was positive my father had written and handed them to her.
She looked down at the letters and then back up at me with tear-filled eyes. Mom and I hadn’t been close since I was a little girl, but since she divorced my father, she was her old self again. It was nice having a relationship with her.
“Faith. Your father didn’t write these. I did,” she said as a tear slipped down her cheek.
Finding Faith Page 21
