1. Audible #2
“Sure. I’m heading out for a run.” He could already hear the guilt oozing through her voice, but she wouldn’t do it over the phone.
“Are you working tonight?” Yep. He knew exactly why she wanted to meet up.
“Yeah. I want to get in a run first, so, uh—”
“Of course. No problem. I won’t keep you. Can I bring over coffee in the morning?”
“Sure.”
“You okay?”
Of course he was okay. He’d been fine for weeks now.
His dad, his sister, his little brother.
Maybe they weren’t yet. Mom’s presence still coated every square inch of the family home.
They all missed her like a missing limb.
Fuck, it didn’t take a therapist to figure out his first knee surgery failed because his heart was too damn broken to let the rest of him heal. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay. See you in the morning,” she closed with a regretful brightness in that unshakable pleasantness.
He looked to the forest beyond, the orange glow of the sun threatening to knock him down with a scorching summer heat if he didn’t get his ass in gear. “See ya.”
“Okay. Later.” She hung up. He almost wished she’d get it over with on the phone, but she’d want to do it in person. To make sure he was actually okay. As if coffee and pastries would soften the blow.
They’d been hot and heavy in high school, never apart.
When he’d come home to Foothills after… everything, reconnecting had seemed obvious.
He stretched out his stiff limbs and took off down the road at an easy pace, not wanting to re-ignite the swelling that had nagged at him for a solid week after he’d run on the bum knee too hard a few weeks back.
Foothills needed a gym. He was a sprinter, dammit, and his knee didn’t tolerate this sort of shit anymore.
By the end of the two-mile loop, about all his joints could handle today, the sun had warmed the cedar boughs that canopied the last of his path.
Pungent, the earthy scent welcomed him home.
He swung open the front door, kicking off his shoes.
They landed with a spin in the basket. After wiping the briny layer of sweat from his forehead before it dripped into his eyes, he skated across the linoleum floor to the foot of the beige-carpeted stairs.
Zoe, his little sister and bossiest of the Halseth clan, pierced the air with her shrill voice. “Don’t you think about taking all the hot water.”
He stopped mid-step, hovering before daring to climb the next step.
Like a cranky apparition, she popped out from the pass-thru to the kitchen.
She held her coffee a few inches below her lips and glowered through the steam.
“Finbarr Halseth. If you take another thirty-minute shower like you did yesterday, I’m going to kick your ass and you can do all the cooking tonight, as I’ll be too frozen to move. ”
Finn angled his head and looked down at her. “I’m so sorry, your highness. My physical therapist thinks hot water will help relax my muscles. Unless you want to tend bar and man the kitchen tonight?”
She glared into her coffee, then back at him. “Just no jerking off in there.”
From deep in his throat, his laugh echoed out loud. “Never. But I am investing in a lock for my bedroom door and will be perfectly willing to tell Pops about Josh Stevens and the car incident.”
“You wouldn’t,” she growled, expression pure pout, her brown eyes heavy with menace.
“Then let me take my damn shower.”
“Fine,” she muttered, spinning around on her heel and heading back for the kitchen.
Still chuckling, he hobbled up the stairs. He dropped his clothes on the bathroom floor and turned the faucet to steaming. Flipping back the blue flowered shower curtain, he stepped over the beige bathtub wall and into the shower.
Ahh , he sighed as the hot water drenched his skin. As soon as he got downstairs, he was propping his knee up with a big-ass icepack until he had to leave for work. Aiming the showerhead as high as it would go, he ducked his head and let the water stream down his body.
Grabbing his cock, he relaxed in the steam of the shower, tracing his thumb over the shaft… then remembered his sister’s threats.
Fine . He missed living alone. With an unlimited budget and on-demand hot water.
Finn shut off the water and stepped out, his knee a bit looser than it had been that morning.
Day by day, he regained mobility. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a Halseth’s Smokehouse and Pub black t-shirt, then hobbled half-speed down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a long ice on that knee before his shift started.
T race would be up early with apology coffee and pastries for them both.
Bright eyed and bushy tailed to put him at ease, even for the somber occasion.
Finn’s alarm squawked rhythmically, shattering the tranquility of the sun-drenched morning.
Hauling his ass out of bed, he limped across the bedroom and silenced the alarm.
The first few steps were always the roughest before things loosened up.
He’d have to look for a place with enough room to add a gym or something; he was going nuts in the cramped space, his equipment boxed up in the garage. Pops was in better shape than he was these days, but Pops had full access to the high school gym as the football coach.
The moment he reached the bottom step, the doorbell rang. Like clockwork. He unlocked the front door and greeted his coffee date.
Standing adorably sincere in pink capris and a black summer sweater, Trace held out a travel mug she’d brought from home. He smiled and accepted the ordinary brew. She knew he wouldn’t have wanted the fancy shit from the coffee stand that was laced with sugar and sweetness.
“Good morning,” she said. Without a hint of make-up this morning, she looked so much like the girl he’d loved so long ago. Clenching tight in his chest, his heart contracted in anticipation of another blow.
“Morning. Come on in.” He led the way through the entry to the kitchen. “Warm out there?”
“It’s pleasant. Want to sit outside?”
He nodded, opening the slider and motioning for her to go out first and choose her seat.
No way in hell he was having this conversation in the middle of the family kitchen.
Evan would already be at work, but Zoe and Pops would be able to hear every damn word if their bedroom windows were open.
Oh well. Save him the explanation when they interrogated him later.
Trace followed the winding gravel path through shrubs overgrown with blooms every color of the rainbow that his mother knew by name and personality to the small table in the middle of the rose garden.
Damn, he ought to get out here and prune.
Brenda would be so disappointed in the overgrown mess now that she wasn’t here to tend to it.
Not that anyone shared her green thumb, but he’d look it up and see if he could figure it out.
She set out a paper bag on the table. “Mom sent along a dozen of your favorites.”
He peeked in the bag, the savory scent of cheddar and bacon croissants almost tempting his stomach to accept food. Rolling it shut again, he set it back so he could see her. “Thanks.”
They sat in silence for a bit, the morning breeze fluttering the leaves around them.
By the time he reached the midway point in his coffee, he realized she was struggling to find the right words. Okay, he could handle more small talk. “So. When do you leave?”
“Saturday.” She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, not quite facing him.
“All packed?”
“Yes.” She smiled finally as the awkward melted to normal. “You know me. I started packing the moment I got the offer.” Yeah, she’d have been ready weeks in advance. “Finn. I, um, was hoping we could talk about something.”
“Sure.” Here we go. Just rip off the damn band-aid. It had been too long, anyway. Their little experiment had been a stinging example of how you can’t go back.
“When we… I mean… wow, this is hard.” She drained the last of her coffee and set the flowered mug on the table between them. “Do you ever think we rushed into getting back together?”
Staring blankly into the overgrown ravine beyond, he shrugged. “Yeah. Probably.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I mean, I was so excited that you were back home, but hated why. At first, I thought you needed time to adjust. Not that I expect you to feel even remotely normal yet; you have so much to process. But it’s been months and things haven’t changed.”
“I know.”
“When we were kids, I think we were only apart when you were at away games. I don’t know what I was expecting this time around. Something along those lines, I guess. But I’ve hardly seen you. You didn’t even know what day my flight leaves, and certainly haven’t offered to drive me to the airport.”
“I can take you to the airport.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She sighed, leaning her elbows onto the table between them.
Recognizing she needed more, he turned toward her. “Look, Trace, I know what you meant. You’re right. I’m not the guy I was. We’re not the people we used to be. We were pretty great in high school, but a lot’s happened since then.”
She lit up as he said the words she must have been chewing on for days.
“Exactly. I mean, when I get back, we can talk more and see where we’re at.
But, well, I don’t want to be apart all summer, both of us thinking we need to keep this going.
I know the timing is terrible. You’re still grieving your mother and floundering from leaving football and coming home.
I also think that’s part of the problem.
You don’t need one more thing on your plate, and I think that’s what I’ve been. One more ball in the air.”
Actually, he was a pretty damn good juggler.
But she might be right. Maybe after he settled in, got his own place, found his routine, the spark might re-ignite.
Doubtful, but possible. “Thanks for being there for me through all of this. You’re right.
I don’t have the capacity to be involved right now.
You deserve someone that can prioritize you .
And that’s not me. I love you, just not the way I did before. ”
Air flowed easily in and out through her lungs, and he watched as she sat up, that gentle smile widening to amused. “You’re such an ass.”
“What?” He sat up straighter, laughing in utter confusion as she smiled while seeming to insult him.
“Here I am, dumping you, days before I skip town, while you’re going through the worst grief.
Don’t let me off the hook way so easy.” She nudged him under the table like she had in the old days to let him know she was messing with him.
“Can you at least pretend to be furious with me? Yell and throw things?”
He chuckled with her, then adopted a comical glower. “Dammit Trace. Don’t crush me like this, you heartless bitch.” He nudged her back. “There, is that better?”
She laughed and sat up higher, contorting her amusement with an angry face. “Screw you, Finn.”
“There. Now we can call it a real break-up.” Smiling, he stood and held his hand out for her.
Trace accepted and let him pull her up, but she dropped his hand and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug. “I am going to miss you.”
Hugging her back, he rested his cheek against her wild strawberry blond hair. “I’ll miss you too. Enjoy your adventure this summer.”
She pinched his side and pulled away. “I’ll call you when I get back. Stay out of trouble.”
Strolling down the garden path, a swing in her hips, he watched his oldest friend walk out of his life again. They’d always be friends, but the wave of relief rushing from his lungs told him they’d made the right decision.