A.N.: Some nice Finn moments for you all! Please vote on my profile about my next Megan Meade's Guide fanfiction story; I need her older-sister's name, and I've decided to write the story from Evan's perspective...which may be interesting!
Rose Amongst Thorns
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Balm for the Soul
Rose left her bedroom to get a glass of water and a snack, halfway through her homework, just as Evan reached the top of the stairs. They both froze. For a split-second, Rose was sure that Evan was going to say something; he had that purposeful look about him. But then he just brushed right by her into his bedroom. He slammed the door so hard she could feel it reverberate through her feet. Crappy music blasted suddenly from beyond Evan's slammed door, and a wash of rage saturated every cell of her body.
She whirled around, fingernails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists, intent on hammering Evan's door so hard it splintered and he couldn't slam it in her face again. None of this was her fault. Didn't he understand that—could nothing get through that thick skull of his but easily-spread thighs and food?
She heard a noise outside her window; Caleb and Ian chatting amicably while they kicked around a soccer-ball with Miller. Rose stalked to the end of the hall to look out the window. The door to the shed was just closing.
Finn.
Despite everything, he was just as bad as his pig-headed older-brother. Finn had stranded her that morning as well, and he hadn't said a word to her about French class, even though he never would have passed that pop quiz they had taken without her help, and he hadn't said a word to her when she'd been put in his group during Art to go and take pictures of the school campus to test out their cameras. Rose turned and stormed down the hallway. She was a little too irate to go after Evan today; she might hurt him. For a petite girl, she could cause damage like a hurricane. But Finn…that boy wasn't going to know what hit him.
"You guys all suck, you know that?" Rose shouted, flinging the door of the shed open and marching inside, slamming it behind her. Finn jumped about a foot in the air and dropped his paintbrush on the leg of his already paint-splattered jeans, where it left a streak of pale peony-pink on his leg, with a tiny streak of fuchsia, before hitting the dirty floor. Rose made a mental note to buy him a little mat or something.
"Sorry?" he blurted.
"You! You suck!" Rose fumed.
"We've been over this; I know I suck."
"Not your art, Finn; you know you're too talented for false modesty," Rose snapped. "You! You…guys!"
Finn blinked. "Actually, I think I'm kind of an okay guy."
"Oh, please!" Rose said, squaring off in front of him. "I mean, what's wrong with you? Were you all born like this? Or did Regina shake you when you were babies? Where was I when she was dropping you on your heads? It's got to be in your genes; either that or you've got each other in too many choke-holds over the years and you've deprived your brains of enough oxygen! Do you know, sometimes I sit upstairs in bed and I just try and rationalise which of you boys I hate most."
"You are losing it, honey!" Finn stared.
"Oh, keep up Finn, I've already lost it! I lost my hold on sanity the day I came to live here! I didn't realise when I moved in I was actually moving into Bedlam!" Rose said, almost panting.
"Okay, honey, I think you need to sit down," Finn said, carefully reaching for her shoulders, as if he didn't want to rile her any more. Keeping her at arm's length, he steered her over to the garden bench and pushed her down until she had to let her knees go and fall into the seat. He grabbed a stool and set it before her, and sat down, so her knees were trapped between his thighs. "Now, is this about Evan and Hailey?"
"No! It's about you! You deserted me this morning!" Rose said. "And then I went to get in my truck and someone had let all the air out of my tires. Someone let the air out of my tires! What is this? The McGowan Insane Asylum?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, just calm down a little, please, for me?" Finn said. "First of all, I did not desert you this morning. Evan said you wanted to drive to school in your truck."
"Oh really?"
"He did!"
"A little difficult to do when there's no air in my tires!" Rose said, huffing; she folded her arms tight over her chest and pouted, leaning heavily against the back of the bench. "And I never said I wanted to drive myself to school. I guess everyone around here is a liar."
"Again, I have to defend myself," Finn said gently, wiping his hands on an old washcloth and crossing his arms over his chest. "Have I ever lied to you?"
Damnit. That boy and his too-pretty eyelashes and too-kissable lips and his unerring sweetness. Damn him! He was going to kill her rush before she had a chance to really lay into him! She glared and flicked her eyes around the shed, trying to think of an instance where he had even just veered from the absolute truth. Got nothing. Damnit, she thought, glaring harder.
"No. Not that I can remember," she admitted grudgingly.
"Good. Now we're getting somewhere," Finn sighed. "Now, why don't we get everything out in the fresh air; what happened on Friday night?"
Rose blinked. "You actually want to hear my side of the story?"
"Yes," Finn said playfully, resting his hands just above her knees. "I do."
Rose sighed heavily, reaching out a hand, and laced her fingers through his. "Okay…well, I was dancing in the porch with Aimee and the girls, and I saw Hailey all drunk and flirting with some guys, and then Evan came in and saw her, dragged her away from them, and they had an argument; Hailey ran off and Evan went into the pool-house."
"Okay…Quick question. Was this before or after we danced together to Def Leppard?" Finn asked, grinning, his eyes glowing lustily. Rose blushed.
"After," she whispered. Finn flicked his eyes to her lips and back, gazing into her eyes.
"Okay," he cleared his throat, blushing, "continue. What happened next?"
"Well, I ran out of beer, so I went to the kitchen to get another drink, and Evan was there at the keg, and we started talking, and I remember mouthing off to him about Hailey bullying me. I think I called her a jealous, insecure tyrant… She bursts into the kitchen, accuses us of, I don't know what, but she runs off, Evan goes after her, and she disappeared by the time we got to the foyer; Evan took my truck to go and look for Hailey because he was afraid of her driving after the amount she'd had to drink. That's it."
"That was it," Finn said.
"Yeah, that was it," Rose repeated, sighing heavily. "After that I spent about an hour and a half looking for you to get a ride home, and Aimee and I are hanging out talking, and Jenna comes in and tells us she saw Doug and Hailey having sex in the woods. That is all I know. After that, I had to drive Jenna, Bobby and Aimee home, I got stranded, and you know the rest."
"Okay, so let me get this straight. You were in the kitchen with Evan? Just talking," Finn said, frowning.
"Yes, just talking! Unlike a particular girl we all know who shall remain nameless—Hailey Farmer—I'm not going pass myself around you guys like a party-favour," Rose said defensively. "Although, give Caleb another ten years and you may have competition." Finn tried not to smile too much, and gripped her above the knee, so she shrieked and thrashed.
"So," Finn said, clearing his throat, and looking uncharacteristically serious; he could have been an actor; "Hailey didn't see anything."
"She wouldn't have seen anything because there was nothing to see," Rose said.
"And you didn't tell her that you and Evan hooked up?"
"No!"
"I believe you," Finn shrugged nonchalantly. Rose stared, shocked.
"You believe me? You don't even want to think about it?" she asked.
"What's to think about?" Finn shrugged, smiling. He picked up the paintbrush he'd dropped. "You are a very sweet, honest person, who is obviously upset about all this. Evan and Hailey totally thrive on drama. It's my expert opinion, knowing all the parties involved, that you are the unfortunate innocent bystander who got sucked in by the vortex that is my brother's relationship with Hailey." He stood up, moved the stool, dipped the paintbrush in a jar of water and cleaned it, and glanced over his shoulder at her. "Do you still think I suck?"
Rose shrugged grudgingly. She was in the mood to be aggravated. "Yes." Finn just chuckled softly.
"Alright, I'll let you be ticked at me if it makes you feel better," he said softly. Rose glanced at him and sighed. The way the late sunshine struck through the skylight made his crazy curly wavy hair look like it had been gilded, and his thick curling lashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones.
"That won't make me feel better," Rose grumbled softly, climbing off the bench; she went over to Finn, who was mixing paints at the potting-bench with his back to her. "This will." She went up to him and put her hands on the backs of his shoulders, feeling the muscles coiled, the heat of his skin. She pressed her cheek against his back and sighed, and smiled when she heard him sigh too. She turned her face to his back and bit her teeth through his t-shirt, not enough to leave a mark, but playful, and slid her arms down and around his waist, clasping her hands loosely over his stomach. He chuckled softly and she felt him shiver deliciously at her bite. One warm, paint-covered hand covered hers, and she smiled when he hummed softly and let his head loll back onto her shoulder. She turned her head and gently pressed her lips to his neck, his jaw, and grinned mischievously when she nibbled his ear. He jerked upright in an instant, whirling around, and grinned devilishly at her before capturing her in a stolen kiss, one that stole her breath away and had her swooning in his arms, fisting his t-shirt and sliding a hand over his chest, to curl around his neck and draw him closer.
After every excruciating, heart-hammering, decadent kiss, Finn would press his lips sweetly against hers, as if he was giving them a tiny stamp that read 'Mine.' Those tiny kisses made her knees knock together even more than the long, touchy-feely tongue-kisses. She grinned into their next kiss as he slid his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer, and grabbed his butt, pressing their tummies together.
"Mm-hmm," Rose laughed softly. "You have such a cute butt." Finn grabbed hers, splaying his fingers.
"You too," he said, grinning; his hair was tousled, his lips plump, and his eyes so sparkling they were alive. He gave her another little kiss.
"By the way," Rose murmured, "you dance like a slut." Finn laughed and leaned away from her, grinning.
"I remember you telling me that at the party—but if I remember correctly, you were dancing pretty erotically with me, too," Finn grinned. "As you said, it takes two to have hard-core sex. Or, in our case, freak-dance."
"When did I say that—about hard-core sex?" Rose frowned. Finn blushed.
"Uh… When you were laying into Evan Saturday night," he said guiltily, lowering his lashes repentantly.
"You heard that?" Rose breathed. She had thought she had been quiet whilst berating Evan for being a callous bastard.
"I think everyone but my parents and the runts heard that!" Finn said, smiling apologetically. Rose flushed hotly, eyeing Finn's t-shirt, his lips, licking her own.
"He just…he made me so mad when I saw him beating up Doug the way he did," she said in a rush, heat flaming her cheeks. Heat from anger, not embarrassment this time.
"Well, I'm just surprised he doesn't have a huge hand-print on his face…" Finn said, smirking; his expression turned thoughtful, as his eyes swept ravenously over her features. "Rose? Who's…? What did you mean, when you were talking to Evan, you said to take a look at Caleb and think how he'd feel if doctors told him Caleb's heart was broken, and you had to watch him die? What did you mean?"
"I…" Rose looked down at the floor. He had been paying enough attention to her rant to remember that. Finn wasn't someone she could easily not tell things.
"Rose?"
"I meant… I was talking about… Lucia," Rose breathed, her heart crumpling painfully.
"Lucia? Who's she?" Finn asked curiously, tilting his head to one side.
"Lucia was my sister," Rose said softly, her throat burning and making her words sound choked. She looked down at the floor, a hand still curled around Finn's t-shirt.
"I didn't know you had a sister," Finn said, sounding surprised.
"I don't…anymore," Rose said, her nose and eyes burning ominously. She hadn't thought about it, not really, for a year, hadn't acknowledged that d-word, hadn't let herself dwell over the fact she would never see Lucia again. But last night, after buying all that scrapbooking stuff, sitting on her bed for hours putting pages together, she had started to…to feel. To feel the way she did right now, like she was going to implode and explode at the same time and that the heat in her throat and eyes would make her spontaneously combust. Like she might die from the pain in her chest, the pain that grew bigger and bigger with every photograph Rose saw filled with memories.
"What do you mean?" Finn frowned.
Rose had never told anybody this. Everyone she knew had already known about Lucia getting sick. They had known when it happened, when her little sister had been taken into hospital.
"Lucia…she…died…" Rose whispered. She couldn't make herself look at Finn; she blinked blearily at his chest. "Doctors found out she had this…this problem with her heart; it didn't work right…and it got weaker and weaker until it—it failed completely… She…she died."
She chanced a glance up at Finn. He was staring down at her, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. Shock and thousands of questions were battling for dominance in those beautiful eyes of his.
"Rose, I… I didn't…know," he blinked, looking stunned. "I… I am so sorry, Rosalie."
For a little while, neither of them said anything, just stood almost nose-to-nose, staring into each other's eyes.
Rose swallowed and blinked her overflowing eyes, ridding them of tears. "You know…you're the first person I've ever told that," she whispered. Rose licked her lips and gave him a tiny kiss. "Ever."
"When…when did it…happen?" Finn asked, looking pained that he didn't know the etiquette in asking her when her sister had died.
"Last year," Rose said hollowly, sniffing softly. "Just before my motorcycle accident."
"Last year?" Finn blurted, staring at her. He blinked a few times. "How…how old was Lucia? I don't think I ever remember meeting her."
"She was five," Rose burst out emotionally, dropping her head into her hand, covering her eyes. Finn's arms banded around her instantly, hugging her so tight he was holding her together. She gripped his t-shirt and clung to him. For a long time, neither of them said anything. Then Finn, who had obviously been thinking hard during their silence, murmured against her neck;
"She'd be the same age as Caleb now." Rose sniffed and nodded, tears burning her eyes; they didn't fall.
"Mm-hmm," she agreed, her lips twisting with upset. Finn rubbed her back soothingly, and the scent of paint and fresh warm laundry swept over her, comforting her. She worked her way carefully out of his arms, and took in his expression. He looked heartbroken. The same way Pogue had looked when Rose had come home from the hospital for the first time in days, gaunt and shattered, a shell. He had known instantly what had happened, and had spent the next few weeks keeping her stuffed with every-topping pizza and Ben & Jerry's, midnight phone-calls and thousands of hugs, and dozens of boxes of Kleenex. Anything to help make her feel better.
"Will you come with me?" she asked softly. "There are some things I think I want to show you." Finn swept his eyes over her face and tucked a loose wisp of hair behind her ear.
"Sure," he said quietly; they left the shed, and walked back into the house and upstairs to her bedroom. Rose closed the door and took the enormous pile of packets of photographs from the chaise, where she had been going through them last night; Finn climbed onto the bed beside her, and Rose curled up next to him, his arm tucked around her waist, his fingertips tracing patterns on her arm as she went through photographs of her sister Lucia Grace Meade.
"She is a beautiful girl," Finn breathed, and he sounded like he was suffering from heartburn, he sounded so pained. His eyes crackled with emotion and sorrow, and he gazed at a favourite photograph Rose had of her standing with her sister in matching dresses (she in a slightly more adult version) at a wedding of their family friend's, with matching little Swarovski-encrusted swirling feather-shaped hair-clips pinned into their hair. Rose was smiling and hugging Lucia, and Lucia's gaze was slightly off, past the camera, and Rose knew she had been smiling at the two adorable twin pageboys Lucia had flirted with all night, with her enormous wide navy-blue eyes, and the dimples in her cheeks.
"Lucia's saucers, we used to call them—her eyes," Rose said, sniffing. "She was always the most beautiful baby. And she was so sweet-tempered, too."
Until dinner came by way of Regina having hit up Casa Orozco for a feast of Mexican food, Rose sat with Finn, telling him things about Lucia, where the photographs had been taken, why they had been giggling in almost every single one, and how beautiful Rose's mother was. Rose showed him some of the photographs John had given her of their parents, and Finn went to grab a photograph album in which resided photographs taken from every single time Rose had visited them—including the notorious photo their parents loved to tease them about, the one they had snapped on New Years' Eve, when Finn had his arms around Rose and was kissing her with the innocence only a nine-year-old could have, thinking a kiss was just putting your lips on someone else's—but the photograph was unaccountably sweet.
Rose had beef tacos, Mexican rice and refried beans for dinner, something she'd been craving for a few days, and she asked John and Regina about the possibility of going to Aimee's house or having Aimee over to work on their homework trouble-spots. Regina thought it was a great idea, so Rose got the okay to invite Aimee over to work on homework.
A.N.: Please review!
