Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(105)
The screen door quietly closes, and Fionn steps inside the cabin. He lets his bag slide from his shoulder and drops it on the floor, never taking his eyes from Lachlan.
“I thought maybe you should have a doctor around. Just in case,” he says, clutching the back of his neck.
I turn back to Lachlan, whose heart has been shattered for so long that its sharp edges have scored the pain right into his face. His eyes glisten with tears. His hand trembles when Rose lifts it from her shoulder.
“Fionn,” is all Lachlan manages to get out, and then he’s striding across the room. The two lock in an embrace that lasts long enough that it reminds me of others they’ve shared. Like the time Fionn graduated from medical school. Or the time we landed in Boston from Sligo and set foot in our own apartment, our first safe place. Or even that hazy memory of the hospital that first day we met our little brother. There was a heart-splitting sadness that I was too young to fully understand. So much grief for the loss of our mother, a pain that weighed heaviest on Lachlan’s shoulders. But there was so much love too. It was there in the way Lachlan held our baby brother in his arms. Just like it’s here in the way he holds on to him now.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. In all our years together, I’ve never seen Lachlan’s shoulders shake like they do now. I’ve never seen him crack open and cry, not even when we were young. He grew up so fast. Spent his youth walking us through darkness, our beacon in a night that I once thought would never end. “I don’t know how to fix it. I’m just so feckin’ sorry, Fionn.”
“It’s not your fault,” Fionn says, pulling back just enough to look into Lachlan’s eyes. I notice for the first time how Fionn really looks different. Not like the man we thought he wanted to be, steeped in high expectations and buttoned-up formality. He looks … at ease. At peace. “I’m sorry, Lachlan. It was never your fault. And I would have gotten in touch or come home sooner, if I could have. I just … needed time. Time to reset myself, I guess. Time to figure things out without relying on you both to somehow do it for me. Well, maybe not him,” he says with a nod to me. “He looks like a dumpster goblin.”
Lachlan lets out a watery laugh and turns his glassy eyes to me over his shoulder. “I think we’ve just officially replaced your Shitflicker nickname. Dumpster Goblin suits you.”
“Especially now that it’s permanent,” Lark pipes up. When I glance her way, she’s wiping a track of tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand.
“I really need to know if this is actually permanent,” I say as I start peeling off a scale glued to my cheek. Fionn scratches his stubble as he watches me from beneath the arm Lachlan keeps slung over his shoulder. “Will it come off?”
“You didn’t tattoo it on there, did you?”
“Of course not, dickhead.”
“I’m sure you’re probably fine.”
“‘Probably’ does not inspire much confidence,” I say, but Fionn only shrugs.
“You’ll probably have to wait until the skin cells replenish.”
“How long does that take?”
“A couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks?” I parrot back to him as Sloane cackles in my periphery.
“Maybe. I mean, if you really scrub it twice a day. Otherwise, probably a month,” Fionn says. I look over at Sloane but she just shakes her head. I do my best to look dejected, which really isn’t so hard to do, and then I shuffle my way toward my brothers.
“I need a hug. Even dumpster goblins need love.” With my arms outstretched, I grab hold of my brothers and though they protest, they still wrap their arms around me in return.
“You’re an idiot,” Fionn whispers to me as the three of us press our foreheads together.
“And you’re a birdseed-eating twat,” Lachlan counters on my behalf.
“And you’re a broody asshat,” I say, and he grins, the shine still bright in his eyes. I swallow, trying to force the sting in my throat from burning its way into tears. It feels like a displaced bone has finally been reset, like I couldn’t take a breath without feeling a pain that dug between my ribs, and suddenly it’s gone. And judging by the way my brothers both look back at me, they feel the same way. “Neither one of you would make as good of a dragon as me, by the way. But I still love you both.”
“Yeah,” Fionn says. “Me too.”
Lachlan clasps a hand across the back of each of our heads. “Love you too, my boys. And I’m proud of you.”
When we release each other, Fionn takes a step back, making a slow pivot on his heel. He looks at each one of us before his gaze finally lands on Rose and sticks there. “Now that we’re all here,” he says, “I have an announcement to make.”
Rose’s gaze flicks to Lark and Sloane, then to me and Lachlan, as though any one of us might know what Fionn is up to. “Announcement …?”
“Well, really more of a question.” Fionn takes a few slow steps toward Rose. She looks like she might want to run, but she seems fused to the floor. “I wanted to tell you that I love you, Rose Evans.”
“I love you too,” she whispers, tears gathering in her eyes as Fionn takes her hand, the other buried in his pocket.
“When you showed up in Hartford, it was the single greatest event of my life. You crashed in and tore my reality apart. I had taped up the broken parts of my life and you showed me that those pieces couldn’t be sewn back together. They never fit in the first place. But you remade everything, Rose. I’ve admired you every single day I’ve known you. Your bravery. Your recklessness. Your huge, wild heart. Your willingness to embrace every part of yourself. You showed me how to care for the darkness, not to fear it or hide it away.”