12. Looking into the Backfield #2
“Yeah. Going to move out or make the house yours ? I’m not saying you need to forget her, but you need to be you. As much as you loved Mom’s taste, it was hers. Do you enjoy silk flowers and embroidered armchairs? What’s going to make you happy?”
Zoe laughed from her post in the kitchen doorway. “Oh my. He is sleeping with an interior decorator, isn’t he?”
“Shut the hell up,” he shot back, biting his lip to mask his grin.
Scott nodded, considering. “Think she’s available for hire? That she wouldn’t mind helping create my man cave?”
Chuckling, Finn shook his head and flipped the sign to Closed . Close enough to quitting time. “I’ll ask.”
W rapping around her like a warm summer breeze, Finn’s strength, his unassuming snuggle pulled her from a strange dream as he rested his hand on her abdomen.
Cuddling in tighter, she rested her hand over his.
His lips brushed over her bare shoulder, soft, sleepy, and then he laid his head on the pillow behind her, holding her close.
Flashing through her veins like lightning, her chest ached, her pulse pounded in her ears, and her breath came faster than she could handle. Lightheaded, she squeezed her eyes shut to block the memories.
She hadn’t done this in months.
Sensing her go stiff, Finn whispered, “Hey, you okay?”
Unable to speak for fighting back the tears that threatened to flood out of her eyes, she nodded.
“No, you’re not. What’s up?” His voice crooned against the darkness.
Sliding out of the sheets, she stole away to the bathroom. After splashing her face with cold water, she leaned against the counter and let rage overtake the panic. Why did she let him do this to her?
Giving it a few minutes until she was sure she had a handle on it, even if she was still furious, she turned the knob and shut the light back off. She tiptoed back to bed.
In the blue glow of the moon, Finn sat up in the bed, watching. Waiting.
Unable to get closer, her skin prickling, sensitive, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly into the darkness of the backyard.
“Anything I can do?”
She shook her head.
“Something I did?”
She shook her head again, still not trusting herself to speak.
“Want me to go?” He murmured, a crackle in his voice.
“No,” she whispered. Breathing in the cool night air, exhaling away the emotion she refused to succumb to, she said, “I’m sorry.
Nothing you did. Well, nothing you did wrong.
I’d suspected Nate was doing more than working late.
Odd things he’d say. Sometimes he’d smell different, like he’d just showered and it wasn’t our soap.
Occasionally he’d wake me up and try to start something, but usually he’d stay at the far end of the bed and claim he was too tired if I tried to start something. ”
Finn didn’t move, didn’t speak, but simply let her speak.
“So, when you came in and cuddled up, nothing you wanted or didn’t want, if that makes any sense…
And you smelled…” She paused, not wanting to sound needy, but knowing she needed to say it out loud.
“You didn’t smell like someone else. You’ve got this invigorating scent like the alpine air at the top of a mountain, but it’s cozy at the same time. ”
He chuckled softly. “And here I thought I smelled like sweat and sausage and stale liquor.”
Her breath coming easier, her pulse no calmer from thrill rather than fury, she laughed. “That too, but… in a good way.”
“We could go take another shower. I’ve got lots of shower fantasies.”
She couldn’t help but laugh again. “Maybe in the morning. I’m sorry for unloading on you. I think that might be against the rebound rules. Aren’t we supposed to keep things light?”
He moved close and sat behind her, wrapping his legs around either side of her, his arms linked around her middle. “I think that’s the reason for a rebound. There’s a lot of baggage that needs unloading, and the rebound is supposed to help you find yourself again.”
“I like that.” She leaned into him, drawing in his heat, his unaffected affection.
“Haley?”
“Yeah?”
“While you and I are doing what we’re doing, until we’ve said we’re done with this, I have no intention of being with anyone else.
Besides, I don’t know how anyone finds the time, or the deviousness it takes to string people along like that.
Or why. I mean, I understand holding on when it should be over, I’ve been there.
But if the sex isn’t incredible, if the conversation isn’t stimulating, or even something as basic as interests not aligning and it’s not working, break the fuck up. ”
“Finn? I like you.”
He laughed and kissed her shoulder.
“Busy night tonight?”
“Not at all, actually. Pops swung by to get hammered, but, instead, he and Zoe blitzed me.”
“Ouch. How come?”
“Worrying that I’m going to ostrich my way through life.
About not expressing how much life has sucked the last six months.
Losing my career, then having that grieving process completely obliterated by losing Mom.
Working long hours at the pub, getting together with my old girlfriend and then blowing it.
Hell yeah, I miss football, but I knew it was going to end someday.
I like the pub. I don’t know that I want to move across the country to coach, but I guess I’ve never tried.
I miss football. More than anything, I miss Mom like crazy, but I don’t think there’s anything I can or want to change about that; that’s part of losing a loved one. Why would I want to let her go?”
His hands rested on her thighs, his thumb mindlessly tracing circles on her skin.
He continued, “At first, we all were frozen, not wanting to touch anything of hers or even admit that she was gone. I didn’t leave the house for a while, didn’t call anyone.
Then I gradually followed the path of least resistance, tending bar most nights, hanging out with my family, my ex.
Your brother and the guys started dragging me out of the house.
Things let up a bit. Still, I didn’t have enough in me to balance a relationship, so I got dumped.
Eventually, my family, we sort of cleaned everything of Mom’s up in a frenzy; I packed all her books and crafts and other stuff no one else would use.
Zoe cleaned out her closet. Most of it was donated, other stuff put up in the attic. ”
“You got dumped in the middle of all that? Awfully callous of her.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I mean, yeah, it kind of was, but she dumped me rather palliatively, like she knew I wasn’t up to giving her what she needed, so she let me off the hook.
I was a shitty boyfriend. Honestly? She was ready to pick up right where we left off, like we hadn’t grown into adulthood without each other.
Lucky for us both, she recognized I wasn’t capable of being there for her, that I was still working on finding myself again, so she ended it. ”
“You know what I like about you?”
“What’s that?”
“You got dumped in the middle of huge life changes, and instead of being angry or resentful, you’re complimenting the woman that did it. As long as you’re not blaming yourself, I admire your lack of negativity.”
“I could. But that wouldn’t get me anywhere either.”
“When my dad died, about a year or so after Nate and I got married, I fell apart. Depressed, angry, it took months before I felt like me again. I still miss him like crazy and have an occasional rough day thinking about how things should have gone. I think it’s okay to grieve how and when you need to.
I think losing him and not letting myself accept it, that’s part of why I let go of myself, why I became what Nate wanted.
I was too busy missing Dad and isolating myself and eventually, Nate was all I had left, and he wasn’t worth it.
I could blame myself for not standing up for me sooner, but I completely, one hundred percent, no shadow of a doubt, blame Nate. ”
He chuckled, “Tell me how you really feel.”
She leaned into him, his bristly cheek caught her hair as he kissed her temple.
“Okay, so I wish I had confronted him sooner, that I had recognized that he was gradually knocking down the parts of me he didn’t care for, manipulating me to be what he wanted.
I can’t say he did it intentionally. But, well, he was the asshole that didn’t give a damn about my hopes or needs. ”
“I want to meet him.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m curious what makes that asshole tick, to have not just cheated, but have blown it big-time. Emotionally abusive narcissistic asshole. Mostly though, I want to feel my fist breaking his face.”
“You’re so sweet.”
“I’m a romantic, ask anyone.”
She didn’t say it out loud, but he was a romantic. She’d never felt so special as she did with him. “I’m tired.”
“Me too.”
He flipped back the covers, and they curled up together. Slider open to the cool air, listening to the resonant hum of a cleansing summer rain, she snuggled against him as sleep washed over her.