Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
RAINE
S o, splitting holidays is no joke. And I mean, no. Joke.
Thankfully, my family was pretty great about letting us slip away after Christmas brunch. Now, we’re on our way to meet up with our friends before heading up to the cabin with Finley and the rest of Everett’s family.
Drake’s sentencing should be pretty straightforward. My lawyer thinks Drake might be able to swing probation and a nasty fine since he willingly confessed to everything. But we won’t know the full details for a while. For now, he made bail, and I haven’t seen him since. The justice system can drag its feet sometimes, apparently, including my case against Drake Haitt. The only shining light at the end of the tunnel is that the Springfield Titans are a couple thousand miles away, so even if he doesn’t spend any major time behind bars, I won’t have to deal with him ever again.
The renovations should wrap up in the next week or two, but we won’t move in until after winter break. Finley ordered noise-canceling headphones as soon as Everett suggested we move into one of the rooms on the top floor, but I think she’s secretly excited to have someone to live with. Besides, with all the travel the boys are doing, we’ll have plenty of time for girls’ nights, and I can’t wait.
As we pull up to the duplex, I notice Finley through the window. She’s standing on the couch with her back pressed to the glass.
I lean closer to the windshield as if it’ll give me a better view or explanation of what’s happening.
“What’s Fin doing?” I ask.
Everett hesitates before turning the car off. “Maybe she lost her last marble.”
I laugh. “Once a softie, always a softie. Right, Ev?” I playfully shove his shoulder. “Way to be empathetic.”
“Whatever got her there is her own doing,” he argues with a laugh of his own. “But I am curious. Come on.”
We head inside in time to catch a scream of horror.
Ophelia and Mav are in the kitchen, not even bothering to hide their cackles of amusement while they sip their coffee. Meanwhile, Reeves leans against the closest wall with his arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on his face. Dylan’s beside him, her arms pulled close to her chest, and her hands cupped together.
“Reeves, I swear to all that is holy, if that thing is real?—”
“What? You think I’d buy the love of my life a fake frog?” Reeves counters.
“Come on, he’s really cute!” Dylan looks down at her hands and takes a step closer to Finley.
Another scream escapes her. “Don’t you dare come one step closer Dylan Becca Thorne, or so help me?—”
“You’ll wake up with a frog in your bed?” Dylan offers ruefully.
Everett’s hand slips from my lower back, and he covers his mouth with it.
“It’s not funny!” Finley snaps at him .
Ignoring her, Everett glances at Reeves. “You actually went through with it?”
“Went through with what?” I ask.
“Fin’s terrified of frogs,” he explains. “And I mean, shit your pants level of terror.”
“No one is shitting their pants!” Dylan interjects.
“Not yet, anyway,” Reeves quips.
Finley’s glare cuts to him. “I will neuter you!”
“There’s no need for neutering,” Dylan argues, though she steps in front of Reeves like she actually believes Finley might do it. “Besides, Frankie is a perfectly harmless gentleman.”
“You named it?” Finley shrieks.
“Of course I did,” Dylan says, defending herself. “He’s part of the family now and is also your new roommate, so you might want to make friends with him.”
“No deal.” Finley shakes her head, her gaze glued to Dylan’s cupped hands. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Grimacing, Dylan steps closer but keeps her movements slow and controlled as if it might spook her best friend on the couch. “Seriously, Fin. I promise he’s nice.”
“I don’t care if he’s nice.” She shakes her head back and forth all over again. “If that thing comes within ten feet of me, I swear I’ll put it in a pot and?—”
“Hey!” Dylan brings her hands even closer to her body like an overprotective mother. “You be nice. I already told you, Frankie’s a perfectly harmless gentleman, remember?”
“Yeah, and if you threaten him again, Dylan will slip him into your bed,” Reeves offers.
Her eyes narrow on Dylan’s boyfriend. “I will get you back for this.”
“For giving my girlfriend leverage against all your teasing?” he volleys back at her. “Try me. ”
“Okay, okay, people,” Ophelia announces from the kitchen. “Dylan, put the frog back in it’s cage?—”
“Terrarium,” Reeves corrects.
“Terrarium,” Ophelia repeats. “Right. Then wash your hands, and we can finish...” Her nose wrinkles, and she sneaks a peek at Finley.
“Yeah, yeah. We all know you guys are ditching me for a week-long vacation in Cancun. Thanks for that,” Fin pouts.
Striding into the room from the hallway, Griffin interjects, “Maybe you shouldn’t have used up all your miles to go see Drew.”
Finley glares at him, but instead of arguing like I know she would with anyone else, she stays quiet and jumps off the edge of the couch, sitting on the cushion with her mouth pressed into a thin slash of white.
It’s been this way between them since the night I went out for drinks with the rest of the girls.
“Speaking of Cancun,” Dylan offers carefully. Her gaze shifts from Griffin to Finley and back again. “Any chance you’d be willing to babysit Frankie while we’re gone?”
The blood drains from Finley’s face, and her attention snaps back to her best friend. “Tell me you’re joking.”
Stepping forward, Reeves rubs Dylan’s shoulders and tugs her, pressing her back to his front. “I forgot about the trip when I brought Frankie home.” He grimaces. “My bad.”
“You’re bad ?” She scoffs. “Yeah, I’m definitely not frog-sitting, but good luck with that.”
“Come on,” Dylan begs. “Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
“Let her decide later,” Everett suggests. “For now, let’s iron out the trip details.”
We’ve already planned the majority of it, but there are a couple possible activities we’ve been eyeing since Reeves first suggested a vacation. I do feel bad for Finley, though. It isn’t entirely because of her lack of SkyMiles, thanks to visiting Drew, but there’s only so much money to be made when you work part-time as a waitress while being a full time-student.
A small part of me wonders if she’s also sitting out because the idea of going on a trip with Griffin after all the shit Drew’s given her doesn’t sound like it’s worth the effort. If I was her, I’d probably feel the same way.
Does it make me feel like I’m having an eensy, teensy bit of deja vu, too? Yup. Do I say it to her? Honestly, I’ve thought about it, but other than Drew being a jerk on occasion, he isn’t necessarily abusive. It’s strange, though. Seeing the similarities. They’re everywhere. Some are tiny. Some are pretty glaring. But that’s from the outside looking in. And while sometimes it can give you a clearer view of what’s going on, it can also do the opposite.
I don’t know Drew. Not personally. I haven’t even met him. Slapping him with a label when I’m so far removed from the relationship isn’t fair. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy to watch Finley struggle the way she is. The way she has been since long before we met if what Dylan and Ophelia say is true.
Regardless, we all take our own path on our own time. I peek up at Everett and smile because I’m the perfect example of exactly this. And yes, I might regret staying with Drake for as long as I did, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have tracked down Reeves. I wouldn’t have been handed off to Everett. And I wouldn’t have fallen so helplessly in love with the man of my dreams.
So, yeah. I think it’s okay to wait and see how things play out for Fin instead of sticking my nose in it. Who knows? Maybe she’ll figure her shit out all on her own and find her happily ever after.
A girl can hope, can’t she?
It’s snowing. Christmas presents have been unwrapped. The fire is still blazing in the fireplace. And I learned Hazel and Miley definitely got their singing skills from their mom’s side of the family. Not only are their voices beautiful, but their kids are also songbirds. Hazel is divorced but has a ten-year-old. Miley is happily married to a guy named Graham, and they have three kids.
Meanwhile, Everett and Finley sound more like seagulls than actual carolers, but today was still a blast. Things have finally settled down after the festivities. The kids are in the family room, sprawled out in sleeping bags. The parents are either catching the last few minutes of It’s a Wonderful Life playing on the television or have disappeared into one of the bedrooms for a little peace and quiet.
Lifting the mug of hot cocoa to my lips, I stare out the large windows, watching the white flakes float from the dark sky. We’re having a sleepover. Apparently, it’s tradition. And even though the chaos is real, I’ve loved every minute of it. The hospitality. The playfulness. The Christmas cheer reminding me so much of my own family, yet it’s different, too.
This hot chocolate, though? It’s rich and thick, and when combined with Macklin’s homemade marshmallows, I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to heaven.
A chair scrapes beside me, and I turn toward it, finding Everett in a reindeer hoodie Finley gave him. Somehow, he manages to ride the line between ridiculous and sexy in a way I’ll never understand, but I really love it.
“You survived,” he notes.
I grin up at him. “I survived.”
Reaching for my cocoa, he steals it from my grasp and takes a sip, holding my gaze over the rim of the mug. “Did you have fun?”
I nod. “Actually, yeah. I had a blast.”
“Me, too.” He hands me back my drink, then grabs the leg of my chair and drags it closer to him, pinning me between his spread thighs. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Pretty sure you’ve told me a time or two.”
“Just want to make sure you don’t forget it.”
He does this a lot. Stares at me, saying so much with a simple look. Half the time, it leaves me panting. The other half? I feel like I’m on cloud nine. This man. This freaking man. I thought I knew what it was like to be spoiled. To be cared for. Everett blew every single expectation out of the water. Doting on me. Loving me. Caring for me. And it isn’t only the grand gestures like beating the shit out of my ex until prison looks like a walk in the park. It’s moments like this. Sweet words. Gentle kisses.
His skin is slowly being littered with my art, and he’s even stolen a few drawings from my notebook, had them framed, and hung them in our bedroom. His support? It’s something I never even knew I needed. Seriously, I love this man.
“Don’t worry. I’m not letting you go anywhere,” I murmur.
“Good.” He kisses my nose, then lifts my mug into the air. “To Christmas.”
After he takes a sip, I grab it and do the same, adding, “To grumpy hockey players.”
His chuckle is low and throaty as he watches me steal another taste of hot chocolate, then grabs the mug from my fingers. “To gorgeous tattoo artists.”
Before he has a chance to sip it, I snatch it from him and give him a pointed look. “Tattoo apprentices .”
“For now,” he argues but outstretches his hand, waiting for me to give it back. When I do, he swallows another mouthful and sets it on the table beside us. “To graduations and proposals and babies and every other curveball life can throw at us. As long as I’m with you, I say bring it on.”
My mouth lifts as I lean closer, closing the space between us. “Bring it on.”
Then he seals the promise with a kiss, and even though it’s definitely PG, I know I’ll still crave it for the rest of my life.
Bring it on, Everett.
We got this.
The End