Page 16 of Evermore
The drive to a nearby coffee shop passed in tense silence, Maya clearly processing the implications of River's prominent role in her brother's medical care while River tried to figure out how to explain his investment in Finn's wellbeing without sounding completely insane.
“So,” Maya said once they were settled in a corner booth with coffee none of them seemed particularly interested in drinking, “how long have you two been seeing each other?”
“About a week,” Finn said, his honesty making Maya's eyebrows rise significantly.
“A week. And you're already accompanying him to medical appointments and making decisions about his healthcare.” Maya's tone was carefully controlled, but River could hear the protective anger underneath. “That seems fast.”
“It is fast,” River admitted. “But Finn's condition is concerning, and he needed someone to advocate for him with medical professionals who aren't taking his symptoms seriously.”
“What exactly do you know about his condition?” Maya asked, her attention shifting between them with the sharp focus of someone conducting an interrogation.
River looked at Finn, who nodded permission for him to share what he knew.
“Memory gaps, episodes of disorientation, evidence of activities he doesn't remember performing. Last night he had a severe episode that included confusion about time and place, plus a nosebleed that suggests possible neurological involvement.”
Maya's expression grew increasingly troubled as River described the symptoms. “This is worse than what you told me on the phone,” she said to Finn. “You said you were having some memory issues, not full episodes.”
“I didn't want you to worry,” Finn said defensively. “And I wasn't sure how to explain something I can't remember experiencing.”
“Finn, given Mom's history, any neurological symptoms need immediate evaluation. You can't just hope they'll go away on their own.” Maya turned back to River with slightly less hostility. “Thank you for taking this seriously. Too many people would have just assumed he was being dramatic.”
River felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “I'm a scientist. When I see patterns that don't fit normal explanations, I investigate rather than dismiss.”
“What kind of patterns?”
River hesitated, then decided that Maya deserved to know what they were dealing with.
“Finn has demonstrated knowledge during episodes that he doesn't possess when fully conscious.
Technical information about marine biology, specific details about my research and personal life that he shouldn't know.”
Maya was quiet for a long moment, processing this information. “That doesn't sound like the kind of dementia Mom had. Her episodes involved forgetting information, not gaining knowledge she'd never learned.”
“Exactly,” River said, feeling validated by her observation. “Which is why I think we need more thorough medical evaluation. This might not be the same condition your mother had.”
“Or it might be something else entirely,” Maya said thoughtfully. “Something that requires specialized expertise rather than general practice assessment.”
They spent the next hour discussing Finn's symptoms in detail, Maya providing family medical history while River shared his observations of the anomalous episode. Despite her initial suspicion, Maya seemed to appreciate River's scientific approach and genuine concern for Finn's wellbeing.
“I have a colleague at Mass General who specializes in rare neurological conditions,” Maya said. “I can try to get Finn an appointment, but it might take weeks.”
“Anything is better than being told it's just stress,” River said. “In the meantime, I'll keep track of episodes and look for patterns that might help with diagnosis.”
Maya studied his face with the careful attention of someone evaluating potential threats to her family. “You're really invested in this, aren't you? In him.”
“More than I probably should be, given the timeline,” River admitted. “But yeah, I'm invested.”
“Why?”
River looked across the coffee shop to where Finn was getting a refill, noting the careful way he moved, the gentle attention he paid to other customers, the slight vulnerability in his posture that made River want to wrap him in protective arms.
“Because he's extraordinary,” River said simply. “Because he makes me laugh and think and feel things I thought I'd forgotten how to feel. Because when I'm with him, everything makes sense in ways it hasn't for years.”
Maya nodded slowly, something in her expression shifting from suspicion toward cautious approval. “Okay. But if you hurt him, or if this turns out to be some kind of elaborate manipulation, I will make your life very unpleasant.”
“Fair enough,” River said, meaning it. “But I'm not going anywhere. Whatever's happening with Finn, we're going to figure it out together.”
Later that afternoon, River found himself at the research station, supposedly organizing equipment but actually trying to process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
His hands moved automatically through familiar tasks—checking regulators, organizing underwater cameras, updating logbooks—while his mind churned through questions that had no easy answers.
The strange thing was how natural it felt to be planning his life around Finn's needs.
Not just the medical appointments and family meetings, but the way he'd automatically started thinking in terms of “we” instead of “I.” His research schedule, his evening plans, even his long-term goals seemed to be reorganizing themselves around Finn's presence.
Jake found him there an hour later, predictably carrying coffee and wearing the expression of someone who'd heard interesting rumors.
“So,” Jake said without preamble, settling beside River's workstation with the casual familiarity of years of friendship. “Word around town is that you spent the morning at the medical center with the bookshop owner. Everything okay?”
River looked up from the equipment he'd been cleaning for the third time. “Finn had a medical episode last night. We went to get it checked out.”
“Medical episode?” Jake's tone sharpened with concern. “What kind of episode?”
“Neurological. Memory loss, disorientation, nosebleed. He was talking about marine biology research like he'd been studying it for years.” River set down the regulator he'd been obsessively adjusting. “The doctor thinks it's stress-related, but I'm not convinced.”
“That's pretty serious shit to be dealing with after knowing someone a week.”
“I know how it looks,” River said defensively. “But you didn't see him, Jake. He was completely confused about where he was, when he was. And the things he was saying—technical details about my research that he shouldn't know.”
Jake was quiet for a moment, studying River's face with the attention of someone reading warning signs. “You're falling hard for this guy.”
“Harder than I've ever fallen for anyone,” River admitted. “Which is terrifying and probably stupid, but there it is.”
“Just be careful, man. I've seen you get obsessive about things that matter to you, and this guy clearly matters a lot.”
River wanted to argue, but Jake's observation hit closer to home than he'd like to admit. He was already thinking about Finn constantly, planning research strategies for understanding his condition, mentally reorganizing his entire life around being supportive and helpful.
“I'm trying to be careful,” River said. “But I can't just walk away from this. From him.”
“I'm not saying you should walk away. I'm saying don't lose yourself in the process of trying to save him.”
The words lingered in River's mind long after Jake left, an uncomfortable reminder that his protective instincts might be crossing into obsessive territory.
But every time he thought about pulling back, about establishing healthier boundaries, he remembered the fear in Finn's eyes and the way he'd leaned into River's touch like he was starving for gentle contact.
Whatever was happening between them, whatever mysterious forces were influencing their connection, River knew he was in too deep to turn back now. Finn needed him, and that need felt more important than any reasonable concerns about timeline or emotional safety.
Even if it meant risking everything he thought he understood about love and rational decision-making.
River returned to the bookshop as evening settled over Beacon Point, drawn by the warm light glowing in the windows and the need to check on Finn after the day's medical frustrations.
He found Finn in his restoration workshop, surrounded by damaged books and specialized tools, moving with the careful focus that characterized his professional work.
But River could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was using detailed work to avoid thinking about the morning's dismissive medical consultation.
“How are you feeling?” River asked, settling into the chair beside Finn's workstation.
“Like a medical mystery that nobody wants to solve,” Finn said without looking up from the manuscript he was treating for water damage. “And slightly embarrassed that you had to spend your morning in doctors' offices because of my brain malfunctioning.”
“You don't have anything to be embarrassed about,” River said firmly. “You have a medical condition that needs attention. That's not your fault.”
“But involving you in all this drama is my fault. We've known each other a week, River. You shouldn't have to deal with my neurological issues and overprotective sister and whatever the hell is happening to me.”
River reached over to still Finn's hands, noting how they were trembling slightly with anxiety and exhaustion. “Look at me.”
Finn finally raised his eyes from his work, and River felt the familiar punch of attraction mixed with something deeper —the recognition that this person mattered to him in ways that transcended rational explanation.
“I'm exactly where I want to be,” River said, meaning every word.
“Dealing with whatever's happening, supporting you through medical investigations, earning your sister's approval—all of it.
This isn't obligation or pity or some misguided rescue complex. This is me choosing to be here because being anywhere else feels impossible.”
“Why?” Finn's voice was soft with vulnerability that made River's chest ache. “Why would you choose to get involved in something this complicated?”
“Because you're worth it,” River said simply. “Because what we have is worth it, even if I can't explain what it is or why it's happening so fast.”
Finn was quiet for a moment, his brown eyes searching River's face for signs of doubt or regret. “I'm scared,” he admitted finally. “About my brain, about losing myself the way Mom did, about dragging you down with me if things get worse.”
“I'm scared too,” River said honestly. “About caring this much about someone I just met, about the possibility that I can't protect you from whatever's happening, about the fact that I'm already in so deep that losing you would destroy me.”
They looked at each other across the workshop table, two people who'd found something precious and terrifying, both acknowledging that their connection had accelerated far beyond normal relationship timelines.
“But I'd rather face all of that with you than be safe without you,” River continued. “Whatever's happening to your brain, whatever these episodes mean, whatever your family medical history suggests about the future—we'll figure it out together. I'm not going anywhere.”
Finn's eyes filled with tears he didn't try to hide. “Promise?”
“I promise,” River said, reaching across the table to take Finn's hands in his own. “Whatever comes next, you're not facing it alone.”
As afternoon light slanted through the workshop windows and the familiar scents of old paper and preservation chemicals surrounded them, River realized he was making a commitment that terrified and exhilarated him in equal measure.
He was promising to stay with someone whose condition was deteriorating, whose future was uncertain, whose very identity might be at risk.
But looking at Finn's face, seeing the relief and trust and growing love in his expression, River knew he'd made the right choice.
Whatever mysterious forces had brought them together, whatever supernatural elements were influencing their connection, whatever medical challenges lay ahead—they would face it all together.