Out of Mind (Out of Line #3)(2)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

“Oh.” The smile slipped, but she forced it back into place. She was better at acting happy than I was. “Okay.”

“Can you open my pills for me?” I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe get me a drink, too?”

“It’s a little early for another pill. You need to wait another hour. And you know you’re not supposed to mix booze and painkillers.” She looked at me, pressed her lips together, and set my unopened pills on the table. “But I’ll grab you some water if you’re thirsty.”

“Not what I meant, but thanks.”

She nodded, grabbed a water bottle, opened it, and handed it over. “You’re almost out of pills already. You took too many. I think there should be more.”

“I dropped one,” I said, averting my eyes. “It rolled away, and I couldn’t find it.”

“What way did it go?” she asked, dropping to all fours. “I’ll find it.”

“I don’t know. It was dark.”

She looked up at me, not saying anything. She didn’t believe me. Good. I wouldn’t believe me either. I watched her, daring her to argue. To stop treating me as if I might break. She shook her head slightly, stood up, and brushed her hands on her perfect thighs. “Okay, I won’t look then.”

I frowned and glanced away. “Hey. Have fun shopping.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She kissed my bald head, hovering awkwardly. “I love you.”

I cringed. She trailed her fingers over my naked scalp. She used to love my hair. Now I didn’t have any. “I love you, too.”

Once she left, I grabbed the bottle of meds off my nightstand. Another hour, my ass. I’d find a way to open this bottle even if it killed me. After a brief struggle, I managed to pop the lid off on my own. After a while of sitting there in silence, the pill hit me, making the world spin around me. Everything faded away but the blissful silence.

It was the only time I felt like myself anymore.

Chapter Two – Carrie

It had been four months and twenty-three days since I met Finn. He’d told me he was a surfer who didn’t have any aspirations above being a Marine, but he’d really been my father’s spy. It had been two and a half months since he told me he loved me. I’d told him I loved him, too, and we’d sworn never to lie to each other again. And it had been a month and two days since he got injured, and I thought my world would end. Three days since we came home, and he shut me out of his life. I didn’t know how to get back in.

The days kept swirling around my head, over and over again. I guess in a way, I was trying to reassure myself of something. I mean, he was home. And he was getting better. He was trying, anyway. He’d get better. But my world still felt like it was ending. It still wasn’t right.

Finn wasn’t really Finn anymore.

So instead of going inside my parents’ house, I sat in Dad’s car for a while, staring up the driveway at the way-too-large-for-normal-humans house I’d grown up in. Part of me wished we’d gone straight to California, instead of back to D.C. like Dad wanted. But Finn’s dad was here, and it was winter break, so here we were. Dad let Finn stay at the house, despite his frequent disapproving frowns and his long, lingering looks. But Finn was alive. And he was with me. That’s all that mattered, right?

I sighed and slid out of Dad’s car, waving at the security dude who got out of his car. He’d wanted to ride with me, but I’d wanted to be alone, so he’d followed me to the store, where I’d wandered around aimlessly. “Finn: Part Two” I liked to call him in my head. Dad had placed a detail on me again, and even though I hated it, I let it slide.

At least he was letting Finn stay at the house.

His room might be on the complete opposite side of the house from my room, sure, but it was something. And it was only temporary. Christmas was coming up, and then we would go home right before New Year’s. After that, we’d be fine. And if I kept saying that, maybe it would be true. Finn tried to act normal. He held me close and told me he loved me.

But he wasn’t Finn.

I opened the front door and blinked. Every single light was on downstairs, and laughter came from the living room. Christmas music played in the formal sitting room, and I could hear my mother on the phone, talking quietly. I was pretty sure I heard my name, so I decided not to go in there. Instead, I’d follow the laughter because I recognized it. It made my whole body tingle and go warm. It was Finn.

Laughing. Actually laughing.

I crept into the room, my breath held. My dad, the same man who told me he didn’t want Finn and me together, was sitting next to Finn, laughing his butt off at something Finn had apparently just told him. Finn lounged back against the cushions, his casted arm resting against his chest with the help of a sling. He was laughing, too, those blue eyes shining.

So. He’d been drinking again. It’s the only time he laughed anymore. He held a mostly empty glass of whiskey in his good hand, and the wound crossing his forehead and creeping into his shaved scalp gave him a ragged appearance. Kinda piratical. All he needed was a hoop earring and some buckskin pants. It was hot. His black tattoos stood out against his paler-than-normal skin, and his dimples were shining full force. He looked happy—normal, even. I knew better.

It was the alcohol talking.

Finn’s dad, Larry, was also there, but he wasn’t laughing. He was watching Finn with the same concern I felt. The same undying certainty that all was not quite perfect under that flawless smile and never-give-up attitude he kept showing to the world.

“Did that actually happen?” Larry asked, smiling when Finn looked at him. Playing the part, just like me. Was that how I looked? Scared when Finn wasn’t looking, and perfectly content when he was? I had a feeling I did. “Or are you making that up?”

I came more into the room, forcing a smile. “What did I miss?”

Dad stood up and held his arms open, a grin still on his lips. “Griffin here was just telling me a story about his buddy from overseas. He was apparently scared of spiders.”

“Really?” I hugged Dad. Crossing the room, I bent down, kissed Larry’s forehead, and squeezed his hand. Last, but not least, I turned to Finn. “What kind of big, scary fighter is scared of spiders?”

Finn’s smile slipped for a fraction of a second. He lifted his glass to his lips, drained it, and smiled up at me as if he didn’t spend half the night pacing in his room instead of sleeping. As if he didn’t wake up screaming every night.