Page 26 of Yours on the Canvas

I stand and look at Jack, who is watching Hale disappear from the room, and I see the moment he realises what he has done, and I watch him collapse into tears as he watches Hale walk to his room.

* * *

Finn has moved to the window, his back rigid, shoulders locked tight. Every muscle in his frame is coiled, vibrating with a frustration that’s been building since the phone call.

Deck steps in behind him and wraps his arms around him, whispering low to him, settling him.

An uncomfortable silence descends over the room, and I don’t know what to do. I’m just about to go and comfort Jack when Finn speaks.

“You can’t keep doing this, Jack.” His voice gentle, but there is a hurt edge to it. It cuts like a knife through the gloom that has descended over the room.

He doesn’t turn around, just stands wrapped in Deck.

Finally, Finn steps away from Deck, turning to look at Jack. “Answer me,” Finn says, voice so soft I feel it like a physical punch to the throat. “And don’t you fucking lie to me, Jack. Are you fighting?” The question hitting the room like a gunshot.

There’s a shuffle on the couch; Jacks trying to get up, trying to stand to face Finn head-on even though his ribs are still taped and his breathing is still uneven.

My body moves before I can stop it, but one word stops me cold.

“Don’t.”

Jack’s voice is sharp, angry, cutting through the air like a blade, as his eyes lock on mine, furious and bright, and I take a step back, feeling it hit me low in the stomach.

He gives me a small smile, “I’m fine, I promise, Sol.”

He sucks in a breath, wincing as his ribs protest, and sighs as he stands, his eyes fixed to the floor. “Fine. I’ve been fighting.”

And there it is.

The words hang in the air like a crack splitting straight down the middle of the room.

Jack’s eyes lift, darting to mine for half a second, a flash of guilt and fear flit across his face, before snapping back to Finn.

Jack just answered every question, suspicion and fear that I had.

Finn goes still. He’s not the quiet, still, he’s quiet, like a predator locking in onto a movement. He sucks in a deep breath, his shoulders rising, then dropping slowly, forcing himself to remain calm.

Deck and I quickly look at each other, before Deck places a hand on Finns shoulder. Finn shrugs it off, his eyes flash with anger, but there’s a hint of hurt tangled with disbelief. “Where? How long?” he demands, his voice cracking like a whip. “Who are you fighting?”

Jack doesn’t look up. “Whoever’s waiting,” he says, eyes still on the floor in front of him.

The confession hangs between all of us, and it hurts, ugly and raw. My heart aches, slamming against my ribs, as I think of my dove fighting. The worst thing is, he did it without me knowing.

He lied to me.

But what he says next, just about sends me to the floor.

“Since we got to Campbell River,” he continues, his voice low and defeated now. “Years ago. Every damn week. In the alleys behind the docks, out past the logging roads.” He swallows hard. “I never stopped.”

The room seemed to shrink around me. I lean forward, my hands on my knees, trying to suck air into my lungs. My boy, still fighting. I can’t believe it.

Finn stares at him, the words refusing to make sense, his breath catching like he’s been punched.

“Years?” he whispers, disbelief cracking through the anger. “You’ve been… Why? Why would you do that to yourself?”

Jack let’s out a dark, humourless breath, more a broken sob than anything else. He looks up, eyes burning with that desperate, self-destructive fire that’s been simmering under his skin for years.

He takes a step towards Finn.