Epilogue #3
“And Neil,” Jesse introduced the last guy. “Finn’s roommate. The second one got waylaid by some work, but she should show at some point.”
Ah, right—Finn still shared an apartment in Washington Heights, mostly because Jesse had yet to pick up his courage and ask him to move in.
He’d mumbled some stuff about not wanting to overwhelm Finn when I’d asked, and yeah, no, not likely.
From what I’d seen, they were equally stupid about each other.
“Roommate for now,” Neil said, grinning as if he’d caught the tail end of my thought and agreed. “That’s just until one of these two pops the question, though. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? Repeat after me: ‘Will you move in with me?’”
“Neil.” Finn ducked his head—a little embarrassed yet clearly not displeased, dimples peeking through. Jesse seemed to notice as well because he hesitated for a half beat, then cleared his throat.
“You wanna?” He said it like a joke, but his eyes were serious, attention bright like a spotlight on Finn. I sipped my beer to hide a smile.
“Really?” Finn asked while behind him, the grill hissed as if adding commentary. Like me, everyone else pretended to blend in with the scenery, even though Tessa seemed to vibrate in place and Neil looked a second away from bursting into laughter.
“I mean…” Jesse scuffed a hand through his hair, and Jesus, they were ridiculous. “There’s plenty of space. And you helped me decorate. And you’ve got some clothes here already. Plus the second nightstand is pretty much yours as it is.”
“What Jesse is trying to say,” I put in, “is that at this point, it would be mostly paperwork.”
“Not that I won’t miss your stupid face,” Neil told Finn, “but honestly, we might see more of each other if we planned the occasional bar crawl. Not like you’ve been spending a lot of nights at home lately.”
“Hey,” Finn mumbled, head dipping at a sheepish angle. Jesse stepped up next to him and slid a supportive hand up his back.
“Stop ganging up on him,” he said. “It’s Finn’s call.” He glanced over at Finn’s profile, face softening in a way that made me almost wistful. Maybe I should throw myself back into the dating game. “No pressure, love.”
“I don’t feel pressured.” Finn’s voice dropped to something lower, much more intimate. “At all. I just want to make sure you’re sure.”
“I’m sure if you are,” Jesse said, cheeks a little red, and it seemed like that was the final drop because Tessa burst out laughing.
“Guys, please. You’re breaking my fucking heart here.” She shook her head, another laugh slipping out. “You’re both sure, okay? Now kiss to seal the deal and then pour some champagne for the rest of us.”
Jesse looked at Finn. Finn looked at Jesse. They both started smiling at the same time.
Neil hollered something about idiots in love just as an ear of corn caught fire on the grill.
Khai moved to the rescue, tongs raised like a weapon, while Tessa cheered him on as if it was game night, Tay laughing too hard to be of any use.
Somewhere in the background, Dean declared that for the record, he’d never been that emotionally stunted—and still Jesse and Finn were smiling at each other like the rest of the world had shifted out of focus.
I sipped my beer and watched it all unfold, happy in the knowledge that this wasn’t a classroom, so for once, it wasn’t my mess.
And really, this was the good kind of chaos: laughter and people talking over each other, Neil and Tay shouting useless instructions, the grill still puffing smoke like a baby dragon, and my boy finally in a good place, a great place, surrounded by new friends, in a town where he could breathe, with someone he loved by his side.
Aww, man. They do grow up so fast.
Finn
IV. September
“Romantic?” I blinked at Jesse, and he blinked right back.
“Yes. It’s that thing people do when they’re in love.”
“Okay, first off.” I quirked a brow at him, biting my cheek against a smile. “Romantic is an adjective. You can’t just make it a thing. And secondly, what’s romantic about no phones and dying in a ditch because we took a wrong turn and there’s no GPS?”
“It’s a well-marked trail, babe.” In the gentle morning light of our kitchen, he looked soft and rested, his moss-green sports hoodie the same color as his eyes.
He’d gone down a seasonal-color-analysis rabbit hole one evening and concluded he was a Dark Autumn type, classifying me as a Soft Summer like it was a diagnosis.
“Okay, yeah. I guess so.” I leaned my hip against the counter and drained the last of my coffee. “But what if we want to take a picture?”
“We take a deep breath to let the urge pass and focus on the present.”
“Right.” I tilted my head. “And then, what—we grab some fair-trade kombucha from the farmer’s market and manifest inner peace?”
His laugh made crow’s feet bloom around the corners of his eyes, and God, I loved seeing him like this—bright and relaxed, a little mischievous like that rule-breaker he’d told me he used to be back in school.
Six weeks into Ashwick, the change was so obvious that his mom had noticed it even over a video chat.
“We always worried Devon would drain you, honey. It’s good to see you less tired. ”
“No crystals,” he said. “I promise. Just… a day off the grid, you know? No phones, no interruptions. Just us.”
Jesus. How could I say no to that?
I fished out my phone and weighed it in my palm.
This was my only day off this week, and I’d be going in for a twenty-four-hour shift tomorrow morning.
I deserved a day away, didn’t I? Devon still fit me—high stakes and expectations, the need to prove that I belonged humming low under my skin.
But right here was my counterweight: Jesse.
A kitchen that smelled like fresh-ground coffee and lemon, a sliver of garden visible through the patio door.
After some effort on my part, a row of hardy, insect-friendly plants like milkweed and goldenrod were staging a daring comeback against the brick wall, while a few of the formerly half-dead pots were throwing new leaves.
The birdhouse was new and slightly crooked after Jesse had pigeon-proofed it, popular with the pair of cardinals nesting in a tangle of vines just around the corner.
One day, I might want to tip the balance in favor of this—less demigod in white, more my dad. Not yet, though.
Jesse’s phone clattered into a small basket that we kept near the door, filled with stuff that had no other home—pens and rubber bands, twist ties, and two orphan keys, locks unknown, that we didn’t want to throw away just yet.
“Come on,” he said. “One day away from it all. Just you, me, and wherever the trail may lead.” His eyes were bright like a dare—Aladdin asking Jasmine to step on his magic carpet, only Jesse didn’t even have to check if I trusted him. Of course I did.
But I also wasn’t in the habit of just giving in. Wouldn’t want him to get bored with me, after all.
So I shuffled a little closer and snatched the rope of his hoodie, dipping my chin just slightly, smiling in a way that brought out my dimples because I knew he liked them. “But,” I said, pitched low, “what if I’d rather strip you naked and go back to bed?”
I’d always loved the way he focused on me—as if for a moment, nothing else mattered. “We can do that,” he said. “Later. We have all day, remember?”
We did. Time, wow. It felt like a rare luxury.
“Fine,” I said, stepping back with a put-upon sigh I didn’t mean at all.
The glint in Jesse’s eyes told me he knew.
When I set my phone down next to his, the room seemed to widen with his smile—pleased, not smug.
The morning’s gentle silence settled differently between my ribs, like the glow of good things to come.
Okay then. Just us.
*