Chapter 21
twenty-one
. . .
REAGAN
Okay, I could admit it: I was nervous as fuck to go to dinner with Finn’s entire family.
What if they didn’t like me?
And why did that possibility bother me so much?
Before dinner that evening, which Finn told me started promptly at six p.m., I ran back into town to get flowers and a bottle of wine. He hadn’t told me I needed to bring anything, but the southern hospitality deeply rooted in my DNA refused to let me show up empty-handed.
Hands that shook against the steering wheel as I navigated to a stop in front of a gorgeous farmhouse. A few hundred yards away down a gentle slope stood a big red barn, a paddock, and some other ranch-related buildings I couldn’t begin to guess names for.
From a distance, it looked like an impressive outfit. Maybe Finn would show me around one day.
I’d barely gotten out of the vehicle before two women appeared on the front porch, the screen door slamming shut behind them triggering memories of childhood summers, running barefoot through our neighborhood with my sister at my side—my constant companion, my other half.
Shaking those images off before they pulled me under, I swung around to the passenger side. Once I grabbed the bouquet of flowers and Sauvignon Blanc—the perfect summer wine, in my opinion—I faced the women.
There was no mistaking them as anything other than mother and daughter.
Though the older woman’s blonde hair was threaded with white, the strands that remained untouched by age were identical to her daughter’s.
The same blue eyes peered out from identically shaped faces, matching mouths pulling up at the corners and spreading into twin grins.
Damn, the genes in this family were fucking impressive. The beauty shared by Finn’s mom and sister made me even more curious about his dad.
“You must be Reagan!” the older woman crowed as she rushed down the steps to greet me, not waiting for a response as she pulled me into a hug.
I sank into that embrace, deeply comforted by her warmth and the scents of yeast and honey that clung to her.
“I am,” I said when she pulled back. “You must be Birdie.”
“And this is my daughter, Aria,” she replied as Aria stepped forward.
“It’s sooooo nice to finally meet you,” Aria gushed, dragging me into an embrace when her mother released me. “You’re even more gorgeous in person.”
I blushed, wondering where in the hell they’d seen pictures of me.
“Thank you.” Then I thrust out the wine and flowers. “These are for you.”
“Oh, these are lovely,” Birdie said, lowering her face into the bouquet and deeply inhaling. Aria accepted the wine. “But you know, you didn’t have to bring anything.”
Shrugging, I said, “I’m southern. It’s the way I was raised.”
“Explains the accent,” Aria giggled. “Where are you from?”
“Tennessee,” I said proudly. “Small town near Knoxville.”
Birdie whistled low. “You’re a long way from home. This must be so difficult for you and your family.”
“I—” The rest of whatever I’d been about to say died in my throat. “It’s just me and Lainey,” I murmured. “Our parents passed almost eight years ago now.”
“Oh dear,” Birdie said, her hand flying to her chest. “I’m so sorry to hear that. We lost our Jace a long time ago, but it never gets easier.”
“No, ma’am.” My voice cracked, and I struggled to regain my composure. The last thing I wanted to do was break down in front of these people—this woman who, after the loss of her husband, had raised six boys and her daughter all alone. That was a level of strength I’d likely never understand.
“Mama,” a deep voice said right before a warm, broad hand curled around my shoulder.
Instantly, I knew who. No one else would touch me like this.
Hell, no one else’s touch made me feel like this, like a host of butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach, like live wires were attached to his fingertips, sending electricity through my body. “Aria. I see you’ve met Reagan.”
I hadn’t heard him approach, but goddesses, I was grateful for his appearance. He provided a distraction that allowed me to tip my face down and away from him. Swiping at my eyes, I swept away the tears that had collected on my lower lashes but hadn’t fallen.
Fuck, I missed my sister.
“She’s lovely,” Birdie said happily. “She even brought gifts!”
“Well, let’s get them inside, then,” Finn said.
As Birdie and Aria turned and headed back into the house, Finn moved around to face me, his hands coming up to my cheeks, tilting my head so I met his gaze.
“You okay?”
I nodded, clearing my throat. “Yeah.” I surprised myself by how convincing I sounded. “It’s just…hard. I miss Lainey.”
He arced his thumb across my cheek, the callous there scraping against my skin.
My blood heated at the intoxication combination of his proximity, natural masculinity, and the sexy eucalyptus and sandalwood scent of his body wash.
It wrapped around me, cocooning me in a bubble I never wanted to leave.
And, goddesses, I loved his hands. They were broad, tan, thick-fingered, the backs decorated with veins that snaked up his forearms beneath his tattoos. I loved how rough they were, so at odds with how gently he handled me.
I leaned into his palm, my eyes fluttering closed, allowing myself to linger for a moment.
“If it gets to be too much, don’t hesitate to leave,” he said. “They’ll understand.”
“Okay,” I whispered, opening my eyes again.
He gave me a small, reassuring smile, then slipped one hand from my face, down my arm until he captured my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he said as he led me up the steps to the front door.
“Thank you.”
Because I knew I’d be seeing him, I had taken some pains with my appearance, swiping on an extra coat of mascara, using my favorite rose-colored eyeshadow to make my green eyes pop.
My long hair fell in soft waves down my back, and I’d dressed in my favorite white eyelet blouse and nicest pair of black shorts, my feet in my most comfortable gold sandals.
Call me crazy, but I wanted to make a good impression on Finn’s family—well, his mom and sister. I couldn’t care less what his brothers thought of me.
Except, maybe, West. I understood the connection between twins better than anyone, and if he and West were anything like me and Lainey, I knew he would never bring someone into his life that West couldn’t stand.
Lainey and I had each done it a time or two, most recently and notably for me, of course, being Troy, and it never ended well.
But at the end of the day, the only opinion that truly mattered was Finn’s.
The interior of the Lawless home was as welcoming and beautiful as the exterior, with soaring ceilings in the foyer, a grand staircase that led to upper levels, and multiple wings branching off the entrance.
Finn led me toward the left, past a formal dining room, through a kitchen, and into another more casual dining space.
A long table dominated the center of the cedar-paneled room.
Finn’s brothers were already seated at benches on either side, conversing while they waited for the rest of the party—me and Finn—to join.
There didn’t seem to be any sort of seating arrangement, so we ended up on one side, with West and Aria across from us.
Finn’s twin grinned at me. “Good to see you again, Reagan.”
“You too,” I said, meaning it.
The rest of the brothers chimed in with similar sentiments, and then Birdie said, “Now that we’re all here, let’s eat.”
The boys dug in with an impressive gusto, like they hadn’t had a meal in days. The feast was impressive, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Birdie had gone the extra mile because I joined them.
“Everything looks amazing,” I said to her, leaning forward to catch her eye across the table, where she sat at the opposite end with Lane at her side and Trey across from her. “Thank you for having me.”
“Anytime, dear. You’re always welcome here.”
Finn’s hand found my thigh under the table, squeezing in a way that told me he liked the sound of that—me at his side for a thousand more nights like this.
I liked it too.
At first, I was quiet. There were so many personalities in the room, making it almost impossible to catch onto a thread of conversation and follow it meaningfully.
This family seemed to have a shorthand for the way they spoke to each other, born from years at each other’s sides.
None of them seemed bothered by the fact that several different topics were being discussed at once, all between bites of Birdie’s delicious meal.
I was content to sit back and observe. Growing up, it had only been me, Lainey, and our parents.
Mom and Dad had both been raised in New England and moved to the south after they graduated college, so any extended family we had was spread across Massachusetts, Vermont, Rhode Island, and Maine.
Every few years, we’d head north or some of them would head south, but we didn’t have a close relationship with them.
Two of our grandparents had passed before we were born, the other two when we were in high school.
Those funerals were the last time we’d seen any of our parents’ relatives—until their own funeral, of course.
Lainey and I always discussed our family dynamic, curious if there was more to the story of why we weren’t close with them outside of literal distance driving a wedge into those relationships.
But we never figured it out before Mom and Dad died, and now we never would.
Once everyone returned home after the funeral, we never heard from them again.
For our entire lives, it had been me and Lainey against the world.
Being surrounded by these people, this warm, big family, was surprisingly comforting. I expected the opposite, to be an odd man out, to be reminded how fucking alone I was.
And I did feel that way, mostly in the way that I wished Lainey were here to experience it with me.
Otherwise, being here was…easy.