These feelings Finn has are obviously not the casual kind. Not the she’s-my-best-friend kind. No. It’s deeper. It’s in the way his voice cracks when he says her name. The way his hands won’t stay still. The way his panic takes on an edge that looks a hell of a lot like heartbreak.
And maybe he hasn’t figured it out yet. Maybe he’s too fixated on Delilah to see what’s been right next to him all along. But I see it. I see it, and it’s pissing me the f**k off.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and taste copper.
It’s a habit I picked up in combat—quiet pain over loud reaction. Keeps the thoughts steady. Sharp. Contained. But nothing about this scene in front of me feels contained. Finn’s pacing. Mom’s posturing.
I step closer before I can talk myself out of it, and they both look up.
