Chapter 37
thirty-seven
. . .
FINN
As badly as we all wanted to keep chasing these new leads in hopes of bringing Lainey home sooner, everything was put on hold a few days later.
Wedding week had arrived—along with Owen, his wife, Delia, and my nephew, Jace.
They were staying in my guest house, which had been professionally cleaned after Aria’s attack.
The likelihood of Reagan’s stalker coming back to the house was minimal, but one could never be too safe, so I had Trey upgrade the security system.
Plus, I trusted Owen—and Delia, for that matter—to take care of themselves and their son.
They’d both go down swinging if it meant keeping their family safe.
Reagan did what she could to help me prepare for their arrival, which mostly consisted of standing by barking orders while West and I rearranged furniture.
When they pulled up, we greeted them on the front porch.
“Quite the welcoming committee,” Delia joked when she got out of their rental SUV.
“Whiskey…” my eldest brother warned his wife as he collected my nephew from the backseat.
“What?” Delia asked, feigning innocence, complete with exaggerated fluttering of her lashes. “Normally the whole fucking cavalry is here.”
My brother had caught a live wire with this one, but they loved each other fiercely, and we loved her right back.
Still, I ignored them both and beelined for Jace, slapping Owen’s arm away when he attempted to give me a side hug in favor of sweeping my nephew from his hold.
Jace Leon Lawless—named for both of his grandfathers—was the perfect blend of his parents. With Delia’s dark brown hair and olive skin, and Owen’s bright blue eyes, he was the most beautiful baby any of us had ever seen.
This also happened to be the first time I’d met him, and I purposely didn’t give the rest of the family an ETA for Owen and Delia so I could have some time with Jace and not have to share him with my thousand siblings.
Delia approached with a diaper bag slung over her shoulder and reached for her son. I turned my body away from her, shielding him, which had both her and Jace giggling.
“I’ll give him back,” she promised. “Unless you want to change his shitty diaper?”
I held Jace out to his mom. “I thought the smell was coming from O.”
My brother smacked me upside the head as Delia disappeared into the house. Then Owen and I moved to the back of their vehicle and began unloading and carrying their luggage inside.
Once that was done, we found ourselves gathered in the living room, me sitting on the floor with Jace, rolling a ball back and forth, while Owen, Delia, and Reagan gathered on the sofa and chairs around us.
At one point, I glanced up at Reagan, our gazes locking longer than was normal. Likely having similar thoughts.
I’d always wanted kids. Being in the Army, though, I’d never considered the possibility of a family when I’d been in my twenties. War had a habit of making widows, and I never wanted to leave any wife and potential children heartbroken from my loss.
All too well, I knew how devastating it could be.
Now that my time in the service was long over, however, I was more than ready to settle down and build the kind of life my parents had given me and my siblings.
And I wanted to do it all with Reagan.
Her chin dipped slightly, excitement glinting in her eyes, telling me she wanted all of that too.
When the time was right, we’d make those dreams a reality.
“You must be Reagan,” Delia said without preamble, cutting into my visions of the future, and I realized I hadn’t formally introduced them.
“Yes,” my girl squeaked in response, which was entirely out of character for her. Delia, however, was a big personality, and she took some getting used to.
“I’m sorry about your sister. I have four myself, and I have no idea what I’d do if one of them went missing. Likely tear the world apart then burn it down searching for them.”
“Thank you. We recently came across some new information that generated more leads,” Reagan replied, her voice gaining confidence. “But everything is on hold because of the wedding.”
“Fuck the wedding,” Delia said emphatically.
Frankly, I agreed with her. Crew and Aspen vowing themselves to each other forever was important, especially given all the shit they’d endured both together and apart.
But I failed to understand why we couldn’t continue working on Lainey’s case.
Why did all of us have to drop everything for an entire week leading up to the ceremony?
Wasn’t there an event planner better suited to put out any fires that arose?
“You wouldn’t be singing the same tune if one of your sisters was getting married,” Owen retorted.
“All of my sisters are already married, QB,” she reminded him. “But you better believe, if the choice came down to celebrating a wedding or finding a missing sister—it’d be no contest.”
I glanced at Reagan, finding the truth of that statement reflected in her eyes.
Knowing without a doubt she was only putting on a brave facade in the face of all this wedding stuff because she loved me. It had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.
We spent the first few days after Owen and Delia’s arrival running around the ranch like chickens with their heads cut off.
Mainly, we were getting the barn ready for the reception.
West had even closed the dude ranch for public bookings, instead offering his cabins at a discounted rate to anyone traveling long distance to Dusk Valley for the wedding.
On Thursday, two days before the ceremony, we finally handed over control of things to the wedding planner—which we should’ve done from the start, if you asked me, not that anyone did.
Family dinner that week had been moved up a day in deference to the big rehearsal dinner planned the next night, so afterward, we decided to go out to celebrate. A joint bachelor-bachelorette party of sorts. And where else would we go but the Swallow?
“You okay with this?” I asked Reagan. We’d come home after dinner to change before heading into town, and Crew would be there to pick us up shortly.
The question was prompted by her still casted arm and the haunted expression she’d been wearing since that first conversation with Delia five days before.
“Of course,” she replied easily, and I didn’t detect any hint that she was lying.
“If it gets to be too much, emotionally or for your arm, say the word and we’ll—”
She cut me off with a finger to my lips, which she shortly replaced with her own.
“I know, Finn. You got me.”
When she tried to pull away, I held fast, capturing her mouth with mine again, taking the kiss deeper than the one she’d given me.
“Have I told you how incredible you look?” I asked against her lips, snaking a hand up her thigh.
I nearly swallowed my tongue when she walked out of the closet earlier. Her dress was a blue and white gingham pattern, tight across her chest and torso, flaring out at her hips. Paired with brown boots and her hair in long, soft curls down her back, she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
Outside, a car horn beeped, derailing my hand’s path to her cunt.
Reagan pushed me away with a giggle, both of us gasping for air.
“C’mon,” she said, tugging me toward the door. “If we don’t leave now, we never will.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Your family won’t be.”
To punctuate her point, Crew laid on the horn again, far longer than was necessary, alerting us to his impatience.
“Saved by the bell,” I muttered.
Reagan stopped dead in the doorway and turned to me, curling her fists in my shirt, expression surprisingly stern.
“You’re saving me, Finn. I don’t need saving from you.”
I covered her hands with mine and leaned in for a light kiss.
“Love you.”
“Love you more.”
“Not possible.”
The bar was packed, and I knew Aria’s upcoming performance tonight had a lot to do with it.
Thankfully, someone had called ahead to reserve our usual table.
Déjà vu hit me hard when we walked in, being back here with Reagan for the first time since the night we met. With her hand in mine, towing her through the mass of bodies—the lines between past and present blurred, transporting me backward seven years while I remained in the moment.
Reagan and I had lost so much time together, and I vowed not to waste anymore.
I was going to ask her to stay. To build a life with me here in Dusk Valley. To make my house our home.
We’d barely settled around the large table before the bartender appeared, a younger girl I’d never seen before, carrying a tray of beers. Even Aspen, who normally didn’t drink out of solidarity with her fiancé, reached for one and slammed half before coming up for air.
“What?” she asked when she found us all staring at her. “I’m ready for this fucking wedding to be over.”
“Rude,” Crew muttered, though he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“It’s not you, hotshot,” she reminded him in a way that suggested they’d had this conversation before. “I can’t wait to be your wife. I just hate the production of it all. We should’ve eloped.”
Crew snorted. “And risk the wrath of Mama?”
Aspen softened. She loved our mother fiercely, and Mama loved her right back.
“Birdie is the only reason we’re doing the big reception,” she said to the rest of us. “That was the only concession I’d been willing to make.”
Though the guest list was over two hundred people, the bulk of them were only invited to the reception. They’d wanted to keep the ceremony small, so only close family and friends would be present.
“Smart,” Delia said, raising her beer in toast, which Aspen clinked with her own. “When we told Birdie we were doing a destination wedding in the Bahamas, QB thought she was going to disown him.”
“She must’ve forgotten how much of my money keeps this place afloat,” Owen chuckled.
“Hey!” West and I protested in unison. I added, “The rescue is doing well.”
“And the dude ranch is booked solid year-round,” West said, proudly puffing out his chest.