Page 8 of Lost Lyrebird

The riot of emotions sobers me quickly.The rush quickly turns sour as a cyclone of shame I can’t seem to escape weighs heavily on me.

Each time this happens, I swear I won’t let myself think of Finn in these moments.My brain is fully on board but it’s my fucking heart that can’t keep that promise.

I blink open my eyes, expecting the mirage to fade.But for the first time, blue eyes stay blue.Long, ink-black hair speckled with gray doesn’t fade.The jaw.The chin.The broad chest and corded arms—they stay.

I blink.One.Two.Three times.I even bite my lip to wake from this hallucination.

The hand I see, with the thumb hooked in his pocket, moves.His fingers drum on his jeans.

Chills spread over every inch of my skin, and an indescribable pain pierces my chest.

No.That’s…not possible.

This reaction is not just from seeing the familiartap tap tapgesture that Finn used to do.There’s also a bird tattoo on his left hand—a finely crafted hummingbird that matches the one on my right hand.Only where mine is pink, his is black.

Tears pool behind my eyes, and I fucking hate myself for it.

The body behind me sits up and brushes against my back.I jerk from the sensation and stand.I hastily fix my clothes and put everything rapidly back into place.

Deeds, ever perceptive of my moods, catches the shift.He stands, tucking himself back into his jeans.“What’s wrong?”His brows crease with concern.

“Nothing,” I lie.Crossing my arms over my chest, I internally pinch myself.It must be the weed we’ve smoked.Maybe it was laced with something, because this isn’t real.It can’t be.I look anywhere but at the man at the bar.I just need to give it time and sober the fuck up.After I’ve pushed down the storm of emotions raging inside of me, he’ll be gone.

“You’re crying?”Deeds’ voice is sharp with alarm.

“What?”

He closes the space between us.“Jesus, Gypsy, you’re crying.What’s going on?”

I quickly swipe at my face.“Nothing.It’s stupid.I’m fine.”

“Talk to me.”He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I step back, needing space.When he tries to grab me again, I turn and freeze.My breath escapes me in a rush.A familiar burn begins to build, spreading pressure through my ribs like a vise.It’s slow at first, but it builds the longer I look at him.

Because yes, he’s still there.

The man’s face hasn’t morphed back into that of a stranger.

I gasp, and he must hear it.Because the man at the bar, the one who looks like Finn, turns his head and looks directly at me.

That’s when I know I’m not imagining it.Finn and this HOC are one and the same.

How?Why?I don’t know.

I stare, disbelieving.The sight of him is a jagged blade being driven straight through my chest.

I stumble back.Deeds catches me, grabs my hand.He attempts to stall my escape by grabbing my arm.

“Let me go,” I plead.

He tries to turn me toward him.“No, talk to me.”

“I said, let me fucking go!”The force behind my words, the wild panic in my eyes, makes him release me at last, more out of shock than anything else.I quickly navigate my way through a sea of people and don’t stop until I hit the parking lot.My heels catch on the gravel, and I crash hard onto the pavement.

It’s there that I completely lose it.

On the ground, with scratched-up palms and knees, a sob tears from me.My body locks up.My lungs seem to collapse.