Give Me Butterflies (Oaks Sisters #1)

Chapter 12

Millie

Oaks Folks

Millie: picture of homemade cheese pizza Made pizza tonight and thought of you guys! I miss you all!

Mom: Looks great, sweetie.

Mom: Is that a child’s hand in the corner of the picture?

Tess: Yeah, Mom, she had a secret child and never told you.

Dad: That’s your mother’s worst nightmare. Don’t scare her before bed.

Fabes: But for real, whose tiny hand is that?

The sound of the girls’ giggles pulls my eyes from my phone, and I click it off, placing it on the table. They climb the steps of the swing set while Finn and I sit on their back patio, watching the sun dip behind the horizon.

“How did you get into entomology?” Finn asks, dropping his last pizza crust on the plate in front of him.

“Well, I was raised in an outdoorsy family, so insects were always a part of our lives,” I say, taking a sip of my water and

studying him over my glass. His legs are spread wide in his chair as he holds a beer bottle on his thigh.

A sprinkle of flour still clings to his black shirt, and it gives me a flashback of his tan forearms working as he folded

and pressed his pizza dough. It was embarrassing how quickly my heart rate escalated to the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.

Before I can get flustered again at the memory, I continue, “I grew up on a farm, and I was always the bug girl in our family.”

The rest of my words pause on my lips as I realize maybe he’s asking me about this as a post-interview question. I don’t want

that to be the case. I want him to just be interested as a friend, but I’m not sure about the meaning behind it. Should I

be answering this as a potential promotion opportunity or as a friend having a drink on a patio?

“What kind of farm did you grow up on?”

I glance at him, and he’s looking right at me, the warm glow from the string of lights overhead making his eyes shine. He

looks genuinely curious and not at all like someone giving me a job interview. So I let my shoulders relax.

“We have a corn maze and pumpkins in autumn, pick-your-own berries in summer. And my favorite part is in the winter when my parents dress up as Santa and Mrs. Claus for a few events, and we light up a path through the farm for people to drive through. We sell vegetables at the farmers’ market, and we have chickens, goats, horses, ducks, a barn cat, and a farm dog. Oh, and a lone donkey.” I laugh to myself. “It’s a lot. But it’s my favorite place in the world.”

He nods. “That sounds like a kid’s dream. Do you get to go there often?”

“The farm is in Fern River, only about an hour from here. I go once a month or so for the weekend.” I take another sip from

my drink. “Do you see your parents often?”

“As rarely as I can.” He sighs, shaking his head. “We have a complicated relationship. I take the girls over there occasionally,

but we don’t ever enjoy it, honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my heart aching at the lack of support he seems to have.

“Millie,” he starts, putting his hand over mine on my armrest, inviting my eyes to his. “Don’t feel like you should have to

go through life apologizing for things you didn’t do. Sometimes you don’t even need to apologize for things you did do. And you absolutely don’t need to apologize for my shitty parents.” His warm, calloused hand is only there momentarily

before he pulls it away.

I nod in a daze, startled by the sincerity and concern in his tone.

It’s true. I apologize way too much, but sometimes when I say “I’m sorry,” what I actually mean is “I’m sad for you.”

Finn continues, “My parents have never been proud of my choice to work in astronomy. It took me a while to realize I didn’t

have to bend to their will. As a kid, I wanted to make them happy—make them pay attention to me—so I told them whatever they

wanted to hear. I said I would be a lawyer, like my dad, but that was never me. Even now, they would love to see me drop everything

I’m passionate about to attend law school and work for my dad.”

I would be devastated if my parents weren’t proud of me or didn’t support my dreams. I grew up in a house where we could pursue every single thing that sparked our interest. My childhood bedroom was filled with jars and boxes of insects, and my mom still takes the time to send me a picture of any insects she finds because she knows I’ll try to identify them for her.

“Shortly after Clara was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, she had me over to talk about her will.” He downs a drink of his

beer. “She said she wanted me to take the girls. Their dad has never been in the picture, and we both knew our parents would

be awful caregivers for them. It had to be me,” he says with a shrug. “Clara was already so sick that I started looking for

a house to buy that night.” He rubs a palm across his jaw. “My parents threw a fit, of course. In their eyes, they have more

money and a bigger house, and they’ve already raised kids. But, as it is, they can’t even find the time to be good grandparents

to the girls.”

“They’re the ones missing out,” I say, a flash of protectiveness burning in my chest.

He nods and solemnly whispers, “Yeah.”

I tuck my feet under myself and turn in my seat to face him. “So, how did you end up in astronomy?”

“Promise not to laugh?” he asks, a small smirk on his lips like he knows I might not be able to stop it.

“I don’t know if I can ever make you that promise.”

“Fair enough.” He sighs. “It started when I was ten and watched Star Wars for the first time with Clara.”

A strangled laugh bursts out of me. “Wait, wait, wait.” I hold up my hand. “Did you fall in love with astronomy or Princess

Leia in the sexy gold bikini?”

His deep, heavy chuckle rolls over my skin. “Is it that obvious?”

“That outfit was hot,” I agree.

He shakes his head with a grin. “Well, from then on, I was that kid with their room covered in everything space related—constellation posters on my walls, sheets with astronauts, planets hanging from the ceiling in my room. My mom hated it. It didn’t fit the aesthetic of her house, but my grandparents kept buying me anything they found. My nonno Lorenzo moved here from Italy around that time, and he barely spoke English. He couldn’t even read the books he got me, but he could tell they were about space.” He smiles wistfully. “He would bring me to the museum at least once a month. It opened my mind to all the possibilities out there and gave me something to be excited about.”

“Your grandfather sounds wonderful.”

He takes a big swig of his beer to finish it off. I try not to get distracted by the way his Adam’s apple rolls with his swallow.

I also try not to notice the way he licks his lips after he pulls the bottle from them.

But I fail miserably.

He sets his empty bottle on the table and turns to give me a small grin. “Thanks for dancing with the girls tonight. It was

great to see them smile and laugh. You even got Ave out there, which is a feat.”

“I had a blast,” I say as the girls run toward us.

Avery slides a plastic box of cookies on the table to Finn. “Can we have a cookie now?”

“Definitely,” he says, prying open the grocery store bakery packaging to pull out a chocolate chip cookie for each of us.

I try to take a bite as the girls run off with theirs, but the cookie is way too hard, so I move it to the side of my mouth

and use my molars to break through.

“I have to tell you something,” I say around the inedible chunk of dessert. “You know, because friends are honest with each

other.”

He looks over at me with an eyebrow raised.

“These cookies suck.”

“I worked hard on these,” he jokes, his brows pinching as he surveys his cookie.

“Well, you need some help, then. I don’t know how the girls are eating them.”

Finn huffs out a laugh. “Guess you’ll have to teach us how to make some better ones.”

My brain stumbles on his words. Is he inviting me over again? I’ve been hanging on by my fingernails to the appropriate side

of the friendship line tonight, fighting as hard as I can not to enjoy this evening too much. But there’s still an invisible thread attached to my heart, yanking me over the line every time our eyes connect.

I cross my arms over my chest and give him a stern look. “That depends on what kind of cookies you like. Because if you want

oatmeal raisin, this is officially the end of our friendship. I’ll never make those atrocities.”

Finn narrows his gaze. “I’m offended. You think I seem like a person who eats oatmeal raisin cookies?”

“Maybe that’s why you scowl all the time,” I say with a shrug, and his glare darkens. But that expression from him doesn’t

seem so ominous anymore, and it makes my heart skip for an entirely different reason than it used to. “What kind of cookies

do you and the girls like?”

“Chocolate chip, obviously. Snickerdoodle, and the girls love anything with icing.”

“Oh, I can teach you to make all of those.”

His brows perk up. “Next Friday, then?”

The words catch me off guard, even though our conversation has led us right here. He’s really inviting me again, all on his

own. It’s not Eloise bringing me over to their breakfast or Lena shoving me into their pizza night. He’s asking, and it feels more significant than anything else he’s said to me.

It’s an invitation for more. More friendship. More time spent together.

And I have to admit to myself that I like the sound of it.

“Deal,” I tell him.

The girls lie down in the grass, pointing to the sky as a few stars twinkle out of the darkness, and I realize I should let

them get to bed soon.

I stand to gather the plates, but Finn stops me with a hand on my arm. “I’ll get those.”

His chair scrapes the stone patio as he rises to stack the plates himself. He nudges my arm with his firm chest, leaning across

the table and steadying himself with a palm pressed between my shoulder blades. The pressure of it sends warmth to every lonely

corner of my body. It’s hard to breathe with him this close, his sage-and-soap scent everywhere around me.

When he straightens, I look up to scan his face, and that thread tightens between us, pulling me closer like I have no control

over my own body. The air buzzes as we watch each other in silence, and his navy eyes drop to my mouth. His focused attention

makes me lick my lips.

Eloise’s shrill cry startles me from my trance. Finn drops his gaze, and his hand leaves my back as he sets the plates down.

Eloise reaches us, crying that Avery’s elbow hit her nose.

I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart as Finn drops to his knees, rubbing Eloise’s back.

“It’s okay, piccola . You know, Millie hit me in the nose the other day too,” he says, winking at me over her shoulder.

Avery wails, “It was an accident. I was pointing to the stars, and I bumped her.” She runs to me, and I squat to catch her

as she buries her face in my neck, her tears wetting my skin.

She came to me , trusting that I could offer her comfort. I run my fingers through the tips of her hair, and my lips part in surprise when she calms down.

I look over her shoulder and see Finn watching me over Eloise.

We’re mirror images of each other, crouched on the ground, consoling the girls.

My stomach dips with a swooping sensation like I’m at the top of a roller coaster about to tip over the edge. I’m seeing the

world from a new perspective before I careen over the side, into the unknown.