Chapter 23
twenty-three
. . .
REAGAN
When Finn and I walked outside a little while later, my head spun like a helicopter propeller.
All those names of people I didn’t yet know but found myself wanting to meet.
I didn’t grow up with a big family, certainly wasn’t used to the chaos of one, but I couldn’t deny how enticing being a part of this one was.
“Did you drive here?” I asked Finn.
He shook his head. “I had to wrap up a few things at work, so I rode my horse over.”
“Do you want a ride home?”
He nodded eagerly, turning to accept the stack of leftovers his mother carried out to us. Then he bent and gave her a hug before carrying the food to the backseat of the car.
Only he didn’t get in the passenger seat, instead walking around to the driver’s side of my car and getting behind the wheel.
Birdie chuckled at my expression. “I raised my boys well.”
“You sure did,” I mused.
Then Birdie surprised me when she approached me next, drawing me into that warm, baked goods-scented embrace.
“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured to me. “You’re welcome anytime. With or without Finn.”
I squeezed her a little tighter before letting go, but when I did and looked down into her face, I whispered, “Hopefully with.”
A smile broke across her face, and she patted my cheek. “You’re a good one, Reagan Lindsey.”
“You too, Birdie Lawless.”
With a wave goodbye, I climbed into the passenger seat, and Finn and I set off for home.
“You’re driving my car.”
“My woman doesn’t drive as long as I’m around.”
I quirked a brow. “Your woman?” I asked, though I secretly loved the claim and the surety behind it. Heat pooled low in my belly.
I was completely and utterly fucked where this man was concerned. How had I ever thought I could stay away from him?
“Yep,” he quipped, popping the p. “So you just sit there and be my pretty little passenger princess.”
Silence descended between us, thick with tension and desire.
“We should probably talk about us,” I hedged.
“Agreed.”
“Now?”
“Let’s get home first,” he said, glancing quickly at me as he turned onto the access road to his house. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need bourbon for this.”
Having the confidence boost of some alcohol certainly sounded like a good idea.
“Mine or yours?” I asked.
“It’s all mine.”
The look he gave me told me wasn’t talking about the houses.
I was a feminist, damnit. I didn’t believe in God. I put my faith in goddesses, the ancient Greek variety, simply because I refused to give my prayers to some fucking masculine power in the sky. For my entire adult life, I’d supported myself by working my ass off.
I indulged in sex on occasion simply because I liked it. I wasn’t promiscuous, but I was open and honest about my sexuality. I wanted a husband and children, but I wouldn’t accept either at the cost of my own freedoms.
I wanted a partner, an equal, a man who wouldn’t look at me and think my place was in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant with a toddler on my hip.
I didn’t do the whole possessive alpha male bullshit.
At least, I hadn’t.
But Finn claiming me?
My panties were fucking soaked.
What if we didn’t talk when we got inside? What if, instead, I jumped his bones? Honestly, that sounded like a much better use of my time. After all, it had been seven long years since I’d last had this man inside me, and I fucking ached for him.
When we pulled to a stop in front of the guest house, I climbed out before he’d fully put the SUV in park, needing some fresh, Finn-free air to get my head back on straight. He made me crazy.
Gulping down a few large lungfuls, I didn’t wait for him as I climbed to the porch and unlocked the house.
As I stepped inside and flicked the lights on, an inexplicable sense of unease overcame me. I didn’t know why, only that something seemed…wrong.
I halted in the doorway, and Finn’s heat appeared at my back a moment before his hand settled between my shoulder blades.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I said, though I sounded unsure. “Something seems weird, but I’m not sure why.”
Without another word, Finn pushed past me and stalked deeper into the house, disappearing down the hall. I heard the doors to the guest room and closets open and close as he checked for intruders. He returned a moment later, shaking his head.
“Everything looks normal,” he admitted, as though he hated to disappoint me.
“Good,” I said, breathing a little sigh of relief but not relaxing entirely.
I moved to the sideboard in the small breakfast nook, grabbing two rocks glasses and filling them with three fingers of bourbon, handing one off to him. We clinked them together before I took a heavy pull.
It burned all the way down, the good kind of sting that was immediately followed by warmth suffusing my limbs.
Finn inclined his head toward the couch, and I followed him over, kicking off my sandals by the door on the way. Tucking my feet up under me, I dragged a pillow onto my lap—my last line of defense against this man.
“So you wanted to talk,” he said.
“Thank you for tonight,” I started.
He shook his head. “No need to thank me. But I should’ve given you a better warning before dragging you into the lion’s den like that.”
“I had fun.”
“My family is insane.”
“I love your family,” I admitted. “Y’all are so real. And even through the bickering, it’s obvious how much you love each other. I envy that.”
“You don’t have that kind of relationship with Lainey and your parents?”
“Lainey, yes. You know how the twin thing is.” He nodded. “But my parents are dead.”
“Fuck,” he hissed, then reached for me, looping his thumb and pointer around my wrist. That gentle, innocent point of contact set my heart racing faster. “I’m so sorry, Reagan. How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”
For once, I found myself wanting to talk about it—about them and the night that changed everything.
“We were on our way up to Knoxville,” I started.
“Lainey and I were in college at UT, and we lived close enough that we commuted from home. That weekend, she had a showing at an art gallery. She’d been in the city all day, getting things ready, while I’d been home.
I had a waitressing shift at our local diner, which was why I wasn’t with her. ”
The fall of our senior year was when we started getting serious about making careers out of photography.
Had our paths diverged, that would’ve been cool too, but it was so incredible to me that photography wound up being another thing we each loved and could do together.
One of our professors had seen a few of Lainey’s photos from a hiking trip we’d taken through the Smokey Mountains over the summer and wanted to display them in her gallery.
We both had jobs too. Even though we’d been living at home and didn’t have to pay rent, our parents had instilled in us the value of hard work. Earning our own money was important to us. Hence my job at the diner, where Lainey also worked.
“This freak thunderstorm came out of nowhere. We were less than five miles away from Knoxville when it came on. Dad was driving, and the rain was coming down so hard he could barely see. He was going too fast.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until Finn reached out and swiped at my cheek.
It all came flooding back at that moment.
The steady cadence of the rain hammering the roof of the car.
Mom begging Dad to go slower.
Dad swearing everything was fine.
Hydroplaning. Dad slamming on the brakes, the worst thing he could’ve done.
The oncoming headlights blinding me as our car cut across the opposite lane of traffic.
The way my body jerked forward when we hit the tree. The seatbelt digging into my chest and stealing my breath. The fiery pain in my leg.
Screaming for help, begging Mom and Dad to answer me.
“They died on impact,” I finished, tipping my bourbon back and draining the glass.
“So I suppose I have that to be thankful for. On the other hand, I sat in that car with my dead parents for two hours while first responders arrived at the scene and worked to extract me. I’d been their main concern, of course, because I was still breathing.
By the time they finally pulled me free, I had screamed myself hoarse. ”
“How badly were you injured?”
“A broken fucking leg,” I said, laughing humorlessly, extending said leg out in front of me and pointing to the thick, white scar that cut across my shin.
“I remember this,” he murmured, fingers gently brushing over my skin. “From that night.”
This time, my laugh was real, though a little choked with unshed tears. “I was so scared when you pulled my boots off,” I admitted. “I remember thinking you’d find me repulsive and take off before we got to the good part.”
Back then, even six months after the accident, the scar had been pinky and puffy. Nothing like the now smooth, pale flesh.
“Fuck no,” he said, his hand fully encircling my ankle now, right below the spot where the scar stopped.
“I honestly didn’t even notice it. You were the hottest woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
I couldn’t believe I was there with you, that you’d even given me the time of day.
Hell, I still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. ”
“I never could figure out how I managed to bag a real-life Rambo.”
“Simply by being you, belle.”
If he knew all of these things about me, had seen my scars both real and figurative, and he wasn’t running…why weren’t we at least trying?
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, gesturing between us. My voice dropped to barely above a whisper as I continued. “But I do know I can’t stay away.”
Finn reached for my empty glass, sliding it onto the table alongside his before hauling me onto his lap.
“I think we’re inevitable, Reagan. And I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need.”
Curling against him, I fit my head beneath his chin. His arms wrapped me up tightly, so close I could feel his heart beating out a steady rhythm in his chest.
That’s what Finn was. Steady. A solid presence, willing to walk at my side while I figured shit out—for however long that took.
“My sister is my number one priority,” I reminded him. “I need to find her.”
“And we will.”
So many people kept promising me that.
The sheriff.
Aspen.
And now Finn.
The sheriff’s department I didn’t put much trust in, truthfully.
Aspen was damn good at her job, and I knew she meant it when she’d told me we’d bring Lainey home.
But when Finn said it—hope sprouted in my chest for the first time since Lane had called to tell me about the body they found.
Besides me, he had the most on the line if Lainey didn’t come home.
Because without my sister, I would cease to exist.
And without me, there would never be an us.
I wanted that future with him so badly I could taste it, could almost see it like a mirage shimmering in front of me, slightly out of reach.
A future with Finn meant nothing if my sister wasn’t there too.
Finn left shortly after that, leaving me alone with nothing more than the noise in my brain—and the lingering unease I’d experienced when I got home after dinner. Something seemed wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on what.
With Finn gone, I walked through the house, turning on every light, peeking into every dark nook and cranny, ensuring myself there wasn’t someone lying in wait for me. Nothing appeared to have been moved or taken, but I still couldn’t shake the sense of wrongness.
And when I finally allowed myself to crawl into bed, a heavy liquor bottle on the nightstand as a makeshift weapon, I wasn’t entirely able to relax.
All night, I couldn’t help feeling like there were eyes on me.
Every time I drifted off, I woke with a start and shot up in bed, certain someone had been standing in the corner of the room, watching me.
Finally, at the ass crack of dawn—no joke, the sun had barely crested the horizon—I dragged myself from between the sheets.
After dinner last night, Aspen had texted asking if I’d want to meet her today. Crew was on shift, so I was planning to go to their house, where we could talk about the case and execute the photography contract for the wedding.
Last night would’ve been the ideal time to drop the bomb on the Lawless boys that Aspen was helping me on the case, but when Aspen didn’t offer up that information, I kept my mouth shut as well.
As evidenced by the gross overreaction they had to the mere suggestion of Aria moving, those boys were overprotective as hell, and I didn’t have the energy to get into an argument with them about putting myself in danger.
I didn’t feel like I was in danger.
After spending a few hours straightening the house, running some laundry, and responding to the work emails I’d let pile up in the time since I arrived in Dusk Valley, I had to get ready to meet Aspen.
Turning the shower as hot as I could physically stand, I stepped under the spray, a moan leaving me as the delicious heat pounded against my flesh and seeped into my weary bones.
I took my time, washing my hair then applying a deep-conditioning mask, exfoliating and shaving my legs. The self-care was much needed and, by the time I climbed out, my mood had perked up considerably.
The worst of the unease from the night before had dissipated, and I did my best to shake the remainder off, assuring myself I was safe here.
As long as Finn was around, no harm would come to me.
Except…all of my worst fears slammed back into me when I stepped in front of the vanity to go through my extensive skincare routine before getting dressed.
There, on the mirror, revealed by the steam from my shower, were three words. The edges of them blurred, dripping with condensation that, given the contents of the message, reminded me far too much of blood.
My blood ran cold as fear, a terror like I’d never known before, sluiced down my spine.
SEE YOU SOON
Stumbling backward, my towel came loose from around my chest, and I tripped on it. Falling to my ass, I scooted backward until I’d managed to wedge myself in the corner between the toilet and the wall.
And then…I screamed.