Chapter 13
JAYDEN
The apartment is only ever this lively when my family visit. Even when the guys come over, it stays reasonably chilled. Matheo is the raucous party host, and Dylan does the family friendly gatherings at his place—for obvious reasons.
Tonight, the music is louder than usual, playing the Teddy Swims vinyl Christina picked out when we were going through the record collection I’m slowly building. It’s becoming a kind of hobby like Eli with his trading.
There’s nothing as homey as reading a book with the soft crackle of the record in the background. Better than the snap and pop of a fire in my opinion. It might have been the best sound before Finley’s and Eli’s laughter filled the air.
“Why are you laughing?” Christina groans. “It’s true. I used to change my sheets whenever I left you guys alone in my dorm.”
“We never went near your bed,” Eli states from behind me where he’s watching the pine nuts on the stove while I chop some fresh sage leaves.
“No, we didn’t,” Finley echoes, her tone tinged with disappointment as she finishes counting out cutlery onto the stack of plates before heading out to the balcony to set the table.
“Could’ve told me,” Christina mutters with a shrug. “Laundry is the worst. If I could afford it, I’d pay someone to do it for me.”
“Doesn’t your dad pay for—”
“No,” Christina says gruffly. “Not since he cut me off.”
“What? Why? How are you only telling me this now?”
This is the first time this girl has hesitated to speak in front of me. A deep crimson tinges her cheeks as she glances between Eli and me.
“He’s a crappy person,” Finley grumbles while she fetches the glasses from the cabinet I pointed out to her when she insisted on setting the table.
“Sorry,” Eli murmurs. “I didn’t realize… you went to his fundraiser a few weeks ago…”
“Yup. Governor Halliday is still my dad. He has appearances to keep, and I must stay relevant, so he doesn’t forget I exist now that his wife is pregnant... Anyway…”
The silence is so stark that the crackle of the record sounds jarring.
“I’ll do your laundry for you,” Finley says, placing the last glass down on the island counter before engulfing Christina in a hug.
“No offense, babe, but that might be weird.” Christina hugs her back—the two of them are rocking from side to side when she adds, “And I can’t afford you either, so if you’re looking for a job, I can’t give it to you.”
“You don’t need a job,” Eli says, abandoning the nuts. Christina steps back from Finley when he coaxes her to face him. “Do you want to work?”
“The devil makes work for idle hands.”
Elijah opens his mouth to reply—it’s so obvious he’s going to put his foot in it, that I step in.
“The pine nuts are going to burn, man,” I say, throwing a dry dishcloth at his face to be sure he snaps out of the frowny trance he’s in.
“Good save, seventy-four,” Christina croons under her breath, collecting the glasses on the counter and heading for the balcony with a quick kiss to Finley’s shoulder as she does.
Just as the atmosphere inches towards awkward the oven beeps. Finley heads straight for it, only for Eli to get there before her.
“Let me,” he murmurs taking the oven mittens from her.
While he takes the tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven, Fin turns off the timer.
“You can do whatever you want,” Eli tells her as they’re side by side. His mouth is at her ear when he continues, “I don’t want you to rush into anything you don’t want. You don’t need to, sweet girl.”
“I know.”
The instant she smiles at him, the tension around his shoulders melts away.
“Good. There’s no rush for anything. I got you now. I got you, Fin.” With a light peck to the top of her head, he places the tray on the counter next to me, giving me a grateful nod before he goes back to watching over the pine nuts.
“This smells incredible,” Finley hums, leaning over the hot tray and breathing in the aroma of roasted butternut squash, garlic, and sage.
“Don’t inflate his ego,” Eli calls over his shoulder.
I can sense his stare on her, on me… and it’s making me hyper aware of how close I am to his girl. Again.
Near enough that I can smell the florally herbal musk of her hair as I grip the edge of the counter, trying to dispel the throbbing in my hand—the one she brushed earlier—before I pull away to check if the water for the pasta is boiling.
Even with the space between us, her scent clings to my lungs.
Then it combines with Eli’s woodsy one, and it is the best fucking smell I’ve ever known.
It’s so perfect, so broad and encompassing that it’s addictive. Like they are together. Balanced and beautiful.
I have no reason to be jealous of either of them, except Elijah’s become her moon. Orbiting around Finley. It’s an aura that’s always there. Always bright.
I’ve never seen anything like it. Never known a pull like it. Except when I’m around them, it wrenches me in too. Whether I want it or not. It’s a force, so natural, so strong…
It’s easy to forget that I’m not a part of them. Of what they have.
This is why I can’t touch Finley. Because touching her is like touching him. It leaves me reeling with no anchor to ground me.
I should hate the hold she has on Eli. I should hate that she’s such an integral part of him.
I don’t.
“Are these done yet?” Eli asks, shaking the skillet over the hob. “Do they look toasted to you?”
I clear the frog in my throat, swallowing past the tightness there before I attempt to answer.
“They have to catch, Elijah,” Finley responds before I can. “Once they turn a light gold, they’ll toast fast. It’s getting them to the gold that requires patience.”
“Patience,” Eli groans back at her.
“It’s great practice for it.” She croons like she’s going to boop his nose, instead she combs his messy hair from his face.
I’m enthralled by the slowness of her actions, the tenderness softening her eyes.
Until he freezes on her.
Instant devastation dulls her shine from the inside out. It’s tragic. I know firsthand how it feels when Eli goes from easy to tense. The distance it stretches between us.
I know it, and my stupid heart breaks for her.
Stupid damn heart.
“I think I’m going to have a beer,” I announce, desperately trying to kill the awkward friction in the air as I edge around Eli, being sure not to touch him, and sling my arm over Finley’s shoulders.
Stupid idea. Idiotic. Pathetic. Bad, bad... bad.
The instant her body touches mine, the ground shifts beneath my feet. Her heat seeps straight to my blood, hitting like a drug.
“What do you like?” I ask. “I have light beer, hard seltzer, wine… like a smoky chardonnay that pairs great with the roasted butternut squash. Kills some of the sweetness and brings out the earthy flavors.”
“I don’t…” Finley shakes her head. “I’ve never… I’m not allowed to—”
“You can do whatever you want, Fin,” Eli tells her in that semi-winded rasp that turns over my insides.
“I have soda too,” I say, sensing her trepidation. “Pretty certain there’s still some strawberry and hibiscus iced tea from the last time my sisters stayed here.”
Finley nods, canting her face up to mine with a smile. “Tea sounds nice.”
When she’s looking at me like this, it’s impossible not to notice how beautiful she is.
From the dainty slope of her nose to the freckles mirroring each other on the left side of her mouth.
One on top, the other on the bottom. Even though her lashes are only a tad darker than her light brown hair, they’re thick and long, perfectly curled.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Not her.
“Tea is a good choice.” I unwind myself from her, focusing on getting drinks instead of the ridiculous thoughts going around my head.
They’re the biggest, fattest no that ever no’d in the fucking universe.
Remember that, asshole!
“I’ll take the chardonnay,” Christina announces from behind us. “Also, Blondie’s about to ruin your nuts.”
I hand Finley the bottles of drink. Beer, tea, water. Although, I’m debating whether the beer is a good idea at this point. While she takes them to the breakfast bar on the kitchen island, I check on the pine nuts Eli’s panicking over.
“I swear it happened so quickly and… I’m useless at this.”
“They’re perfect,” I tell him even though some of the kernels are black—I’ll pick them out.
I don’t move from the stove while the pasta cooks.
Eli grabs my beer from the island and sits himself on the kitchen counter beside the stovetop.
The conversation weaves in and out of hockey and a few team events we have coming up to the three-game road trip over Halloween as I blitz the roasted squash, garlic, and sage with some pasta water to make the sauce.
Even though it goes against everything my parents have taught me, I do my best to ignore Finley. The urge to look for her when she’s not in my sight.
She’s not mine to look at. The same way that Eli isn’t mine to love.
Still, the heart wants what it wants, and I can’t resist either.