Heated Beat 02 - Lucky Man (5 page)

“Hmm?” Finn looked up from his plate.

“The kennel. Dogs or cats?”

“Both. My mum’s a cat person. My old man likes the dogs.”

“What about you?”

Finn sat back and rubbed his belly. Despite the mountain of food they’d started with, they’d put a substantial hole in it already. “Dunno. I spent most of my childhood cleaning up after the bloody things, so I’m pretty… what’s that word?”

“Ambivalent?”

“That’ll do. Yeah, I like them both, but I’d rather have a cat these days. Less work.”

Danny snorted. “Tell that to my dad. My mum has four house cats. They fucking stink.”

“Are you close to her?”

“My mum? God no.” Danny pushed his plate away. “She’s… difficult to be around. She has strange ideas and expectations. I can’t win with her, so I’ve stopped trying.”

“Because you’re gay?”

“That doesn’t help, but it’s not even that interesting. I’m just not who she thought I would be. Maybe she’ll have better luck with my sister.”

Finn winced. The waiter cleared their plates and brought a tray of fennel seeds and jelly beans. They picked at it until Danny realized it was two o’clock in the morning and he was due on shift at dawn.

They fought over the bill. Finn won and paid before Danny could stop him. “Sneaky git. My turn next time.”

Finn threw a grin over his shoulder as Danny followed him out of the restaurant. “Next time? Haven’t scared you off, then?”

They stepped out into the frigid night air. Danny blew on his hands. “Scared me with what? Scarfing all my rice?”

Finn grinned and started walking in the direction of Danny’s car. Danny followed on autopilot, though he’d neglected to ask how Finn was getting home. Something clicked in his brain when Finn stopped by the VW van he’d passed earlier.

“…good to see Finn smiling again, ain’t it? It’s been too long, man….”

Interesting. For Danny, Finn’s smile was all he could see.

Finn leaned on the van. “This is me.”

“Um.” Danny faltered. He didn’t know what to say. They’d spent much of the night leaning over the table, heads together, legs unobtrusively entwined, but what next? They already shagged the shit out of each other. Why was a good-night kiss so fucking terrifying?

Finn caught Danny’s sleeve, tugged him closer. “Can I really see you again?”

“Said so, didn’t I?”

Danny placed his palms either side of Finn’s head and glanced around, all the while feeling the silent siren call of being so close to Finn. He scanned the dark streets. They were in a dubious part of the city, but he couldn’t see anyone lurking. And part of him didn’t care, a part that grew louder and stronger with every inch Finn leaned forward. Their lips met in a kiss that brought their stolen weekend together rushing back and lit a fuse Danny couldn’t contain. He pushed Finn against the van, pressed into him, absorbed him, lost himself in all that was Finn—scruff, clean sweat, and man. Let Finn pull his hair and squeeze bruises onto his hips.

Then Finn pulled away, breathless, his gaze clouded by something Danny didn’t understand. “If we’re going to do this again, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Chapter Five

F
INN
TOOK
a deep breath and pulled away with all the conviction he could muster.

Danny’s crooked smile faded. “Is this the bit when you tell me you just want to be mates?”

“I hope not.” Finn forced a grin. It felt off, and by the uncertainty creeping into Danny’s gaze, Finn reckoned he thought so too.

Finn stepped away. Reconnecting with Danny tonight had made him feel lighter than air, but the weight of his confession had brought him back to earth with a bump. He was already more attached to Danny than he cared to admit, but he hadn’t envisioned them having this conversation so soon, perhaps not even at all. Danny didn’t seem the type to stick around, even without the bullshit Finn had to tell him.

So don’t tell him….

Finn swallowed temptation. Lying—by omission, if nothing else—wasn’t an option. He’d been down that road before, and it never led anywhere nice. Besides, he’d given up on shame a long time ago…. Most days, at least.

“Finn?”

Shit. Finn felt his stress levels rise, and with it his mind slowed and blurred, making it hard to organize his thoughts. He took Danny’s arm and pointed to the curb. “Let’s sit.”

“Here?” Danny glanced around uneasily but followed Finn’s lead and dropped down beside him. “You’re freaking me out now. Can’t be that bad, whatever it is.”

“Depends on your interpretation of bad.”

“Try me.”

Finn met Danny’s gaze. Under the cloud of the frosty night, his eyes looked liquid and deep, like Finn could dive into them and never reach the bottom. Could he trust eyes like that? Could he trust Danny?

He didn’t know the answer to either question, but it didn’t matter. Trust or not, the alternative was pulling away before Danny worked things out for himself, and he couldn’t bear that. The idiot in him wanted to hope for the best.

Here goes nothing….

“I’m schizophrenic.”

Silence.

Danny blinked. “What?”

“I have schizophrenia.” Finn fought the urge to look down and hide from whatever reaction was coming. He’d seen them all over the years—horror, disgust, derision… fear—why was this any different? Why was
Danny
any different?

Finn couldn’t tell because for a long moment, Danny said nothing, face blank, gaze inscrutable. Finn wished he had a cigarette, but he’d quit years ago. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to stab you or anything.”

Danny looked startled. “Why would I be worried about that?”

Finn shrugged. “That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That we’re all psychotic old-lady killers.”

“I don’t think that,” Danny said. “And trust me, I’ve met plenty of nonschizophrenics who did want to stab me.”

That gave Finn pause for thought. Danny didn’t seem to like talking about his job, and Finn wondered if there was more to it than simply Danny not being out. Hookers, drugs, weapons. None of it sounded pleasant.

“How bad is it?” Danny picked at something on his jeans. He hadn’t moved away yet, but Finn felt the new distance between them. It hurt, and he braced himself for it to get worse.

“I’m on the mild end of the spectrum,” Finn said. “It’s managed well, but I’ve spent time in hospital with it in the past, especially in the beginning.”

“How long have you had it?”

Again with the questions. Finn forced himself to look at Danny. “I’ve always been a bit nutty, and they reckon my genes predisposed me to it, but the schizophrenia was triggered by a bad trip when I was nineteen. Sent me totally round the bend. Took ages to come back.”

“An acid trip?”

“Yeah.” Finn hugged his knees to his chest. “I was on tour with a band who thought they were Pink Floyd. I’d done acid and shrooms before, but I guess this was just one trip too far.”

More silence. Finn wondered if Danny had already checked out, but then he felt a hand on his back, cautious and light but undeniable.

“You’re twenty-seven, right? So you’ve had it… eight years?” Danny appeared lost in thought, but Finn could see his mind whirring. “What’s the reality? Day to day, I mean. Do you have help?”

Finn bristled. Help? Why did everyone assume he was a fucking basket case? “I get by. I’ve got good mates who understand it’s not some modern-day bloody leprosy.”

Danny sensed Finn’s tone and finally met his gaze, though he couldn’t quite hide his surprise. “People know?”

“Some. It’s not something I hide, but there are plenty of people in my life who have no idea.”

“Is this why you don’t drink?”

Questions, questions, questions. Danny’s reaction hadn’t been what Finn had feared, but for some reason, despite Danny’s hand on his back, the cold, clinical inquisition felt worse.

Finn’s patience snapped. He stood. Danny looked startled but remained on the ground, watching, analyzing, perhaps deciding if Finn was worth the hassle. Fuck that. Finn had come out the wrong side of that debate before, and he wasn’t going to let someone else turn their back on him. “Look, it is what it is. This is me, but I don’t expect you to live with it. You wouldn’t be the first bloke to run for the hills, so don’t fucking worry about it, okay?”

He got in the van without waiting for Danny’s response, and he drove away, half an eye on Danny still sitting on the pavement and his heart sinking into his stomach. He hated this part. No matter how many times his condition pushed people away, it never got any easier.

Maybe you should get that bloody cat and be done with it.

“Y
OU
DON
’
T
have to do this, you know.” Finn kept his gaze on the busy Nottingham traffic. “I’ve been by myself before. Loads of times.”

Jack’s boyfriend, Will, looked up from his phone and grinned the shy, boyish grin that made him so endearing. “Don’t give me that shit. I know Jack usually drives you home after. Do you think we don’t talk?”

Finn shrugged ’cause that was a question he didn’t want to answer. Jack was a good mate, but he and Will were a funny couple—totally in love, but without direction… a bigger picture. Finn always got the impression they were waiting for life to guide them, show them what they should be doing. Fuck that. Life was for living, not waiting.

Yeah, that’s why you’re waiting on a call that’s never bloody coming.

“Anyway,” Will said. “Jack was supposed to come home today, but his flight got delayed, so I could use the company.”

Finn snorted. “I’m not great company after a day in the loony bin, but have at it.”

Will said nothing and Finn left him alone. Truth be told, he
did
like someone with him after he’d had his monthly injection. He didn’t get many side effects these days—he’d been on the same drug long enough—but the twenty-four hours of… nothing… the numbness sometimes unnerved him.

He swung the van into the clinic car park. He was early, a habit leftover from darker days when he’d struggled to organize his time, but the nurses were used to him here. Got him in and out quickly so he could go home and wait for his soul to come back.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

Finn jumped out of the van and glanced over his shoulder. The waiting room of the clinic often freaked him out, but did he want Will to see him have antipsychotics pumped into his arsecheek? Probably not. “You can wait with me if you like, but you don’t have to come
in
in.”

“Lead the way.”

Finn sighed and did just that. He left Will next to a particularly chatty fellow patient and went to the desk to sign himself in. When he came back, he caught the woman’s musical accent. Welsh. He’d seen the woman many times before, but he’d never noticed it before. He sat back in his seat and thought of the faint melodic warmth in Danny’s voice, a lilt that seemed out of place with his Asian complexion. Welsh-Chinese. Who knew it was such a killer combination?

Finn pondered the theory while he fleshed out a tune he’d had on his mind since he’d first spotted Danny sitting alone at the bar after that gig. From a distance, Danny had looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the lonely, mournful melody had seemed to fit. He’d doubted himself when he’d claimed his place by Danny’s side and bought him a few drinks. Danny had laughed a lot, but after their fateful curry date, the scratched-out song had come back to Finn. He traced the chord pattern with his fingers, tapped out a rhythm with his foot—

Will kicked him. “Fuck’s sake. You’re as bad as Jack. Why can’t you musicians ever sit still?”

Finn rolled his eyes, but a nurse called his name before he could retaliate.

“Mr. McGovern?”

Finn rose and followed the nurse into the doctor’s office. She left him with the obligatory questionnaire. He filled it out, restraining himself from being sarcastic and reminding himself to update his self-care plan. Jack had been his crutch for a while now. Poor bloke probably needed a break.

Ten minutes later Finn left the clinic with his blood loaded with the drugs that kept him sane.

“That was quick,” Will remarked. “Want me to drive home?”

Finn considered the question. Some days he felt fine after his depot injection, but today he could already feel the drug seeping into him, calming the monster within and leaving the rest of him next to useless. “Yeah, mate. Could you?”

“No problem.”

The journey home passed in a haze. Finn grew more detached with each mile, and by the time Will parked outside the house, he felt like the walking dead.

He slid out of the van with weighted legs and followed Will into the house. He considered going straight to bed, but Will guided him to the couch and disappeared to put the kettle on. Alone in the living room, Finn set his phone carefully on the coffee table and lay back. He could already feel his mind slowing, shutting down, and knew it wouldn’t be long before the blank oblivion took over. He stared hard at his phone, willing it to ring, knowing that somewhere beneath it all, he desperately wanted it to, but nothing happened and he was asleep before Will came back with the tea.

W
ILL
WOKE
Finn that evening with the lure of a Chinese takeaway and a
Dad’s Army
boxed set. “What do you want to eat? Chow mein or chop suey?”

Finn sat up and rubbed his heavy eyes. Chop suey. Why did that ring a bell? He thought about it, but nothing came back to him. “What are you having?”

“Ribs and sweet-and-sour pork balls.”

“You know Chinese people don’t eat that shit, don’t you?” Finn’s gaze fell on his still silent phone. He remembered Danny, but as he’d feared, he felt nothing. “They make that fluorescent pink stuff just for us.”

“I don’t care who else eats it. I’m fucking starving.”

Finn glanced at the window and saw the day had faded to a dark winter night while he’d been sleeping. He checked the time: 8:00 p.m. Oops. That was four hours of his life he’d never get back. “You didn’t have to wait for me, mate. I probably won’t eat it anyway.”