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I didn’t let go of the idea that my behaviour was at fault. Because if I had I wouldn’t have suppressed the woman I am inside.
You’ve shown me that, Finn. Helped me see so many things. But watching you struggle this morning I realised I’m still searching for peace.
Choices.
I’m choosing to let go, Finn. To forgive myself. I wish you would too.
At the bottom of this note is the number of the counsellor I saw, and my wish is that you go and see her, even if it’s just the once. She can help you if you’ll let her. It’s strange, but I used to resent my dad for sending me—just thought he was palming me off on someone else. But I can see now. He was too close to the situation. Too emotionally involved. Which is why I think you need to speak to someone who isn’t personally connected, you know?
You’re a survivor. We both are. Let’s make the most of this life we have. If not for us, for Tom.
Well, that’s it, I guess. Take care of yourself and try not to crash my car, okay? Look after her. She may be a fiery bolt of lightning with a tough outer shell but underneath...she’s still just a girl.
Serena.
The paper fluttered to the dirt as Finn leaned his elbows on his knees and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Moisture smothered his palms as his shoulders shook in the suffocating silence.
Underneath...she’s still just a girl.
Idiot. He was such an idiot. He hadn’t just hurt her; he’d caused more damage than he’d ever dreamed possible.
Was it any wonder she’d stifled her femininity? And what had he done? Given her confidence, told her she was unique in every way, encouraged her to open up to him. And in the next breath, fuelled by his own fears, he’d insinuated that she was just another good-time girl who meant nothing to him, expecting her to take it like the tough cookie she was—and succeeded in stripping her raw. Forgetting for one moment that underneath she’s still just a girl. One who’d been tampered with when she’d been merely fourteen years old.
Against all the odds, no matter what life threw at her, she came out fighting.
‘You have no idea how proud I am of you,’ he murmured, to no one but himself, wishing she was here and he could hold her. ‘How brave and beautiful and strong and amazing you are to me.’
Finn rubbed his eyes, then clawed down his face.
Why did he keep hurting people? He knew not to let his emotions engage. Knew he was like a loose cannon, made bad choices. He’d left Eva to suffer, sent Tom to his death. Now he’d hurt Serena too.
What was more she’d been betrayed barely out of adolescence and now Finn had done it a second time. She’d never trust him again—not in a million years.
Any last vestige of hope died in his soul as she disappeared with his heart.
He needed more than some shrink. He needed a miracle.
One perfectly beautiful little miracle.
Every cell in his body screamed for him to go and find her, make it all better somehow. But what would he say? I’m sorry didn’t sound anywhere near what she deserved. And that was all he had to offer. Apart from more hurt in the long run. He was messed up and he knew it. He also knew he was far better off alone.
He just had to hope she found the peace and happiness she deserved.
As for him, he had a wish to take care of.
He owed his girl nothing less.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Five weeks and two days later...
THE MONZA POST-RACE party was the epitome of Italian style and elegance, held in the vast courtyard of a lavish hotel. But the midnight sky, twinkling with diamanté brilliance, acted as the perfect ceiling and only served to remind Serena of a magnificent tent in Montreal.
Champagne spurted from a towering ice sculpture like an ivory waterfall, to pool and froth at the base. But the bubbly effervescence only struck a chord of the Silverstone Ball.
Closing her eyes momentarily, she breathed in the sweet calming scent of the wisteria draping the balconies overhead and turned to her dad. ‘I have no idea how you talked me into this. I’ve only been back a few hours. I could be in my PJs, eating nachos and watching a movie right now.’
Instead she was a nausea-inducing swarm of anticipation in killer heels, trying to perfect a smile that said she was having a ball. All the while wondering if he would come, who he would bring, what she would say to him. So much for the blasé oh-hi-how-are-you? she’d been hoping for at tomorrow’s meeting.
‘Yes, well, frankly I was getting sick and tired of the “I vhant to be alone” Greta Garbo routine. I’ll only let you hide for so long, Serena.’
