Chapter 12
Twelve
Rhodes
Movie night wasn’t my idea.
Finn is still recovering from being sick and Chloe is tired from her sleepover, and the game last night was long and brutal and ended in a loss to the Hawks.
And yet, I’m currently wedged on the couch between my four-year-old daughter and the woman I’ve spent the last few days trying very hard not to think about kissing.
Not that Finn has been making it particularly easy for me to ignore the urge.
She’s wearing leggings and one of those soft oversized sweaters that slides off her shoulder every time she leans over to help Chloe with something.
Her hair is escaping as usual from its messy knot that shouldn’t be sexy—yet somehow is—and while she still looks a little pale from being sick, she’s still absolutely beautiful.
Kiss me, Rhodes.
Those lips curving into a smile.
That mouth pressed flat, her teeth nibbling at its corner.
Tempting.
She’s. So. Fucking. Tempting.
“Like this,” she says, leaning over me again to help position Chloe’s hand on the fabric she’s teaching her to tie. “Make an X and then fold it over. Then make another X and pull it tight.”
Chloe nods and repeats the movements with Finn’s help.
And because my dick is an asshole, I’m not thinking about how cute it is that they’re working together—I’m thinking about how good it feels to have Finn pressed against me.
And wondering what I’d do if she said those words to me when she was fully awake.
Kiss me, Rhodes.
“Daddy!”
I blink and drag my focus back to my daughter.
“What?” I ask, my voice like gravel.
“You’re not paying attention.”
“That,” I say, “is a bold accusation coming from a girl who’s currently making a blanket instead of watching the movie she picked out.”
“I am watching the movie.”
“It seems like you’re making a blanket.”
“I am. But I’m also watching the movie.” Her chin comes up. “Because I’m m-multi-tasking.”
Finn giggles from beside me.
My mouth twitches despite myself, and I settle in to watch the movie about talking animals that I’ve seen no less than a hundred times.
Okay, maybe it’s in the several dozens.
But I can quote every line—that’s got to count for something.
“Maybe your dad should make his own blanket,” Finn says innocently. Too innocently. “Then we can all multitask.”
“That’s okay.” I begin. “I—”
“Yes!” Chloe pauses the movie and starts issuing orders. “Finn will get you the fabric, Daddy. And you can make the popcorn.”
“Excuse me?”
Finn bites her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Did you just order me to make popcorn?” I ask dryly.
“Yup.”
“Wow.”
“I also want gummies.”
Finn tosses me a guilty look, though her eyes are filled with amusement. “I may have already gotten the gummies,” she stage whispers.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
A shrug. “I’m just here for the children.”
“There’s only one child here.”
Her hazel eyes sparkle as she looks deliberately in my direction. “Now that’s debatable.”
I laugh outright.
And it hurts.
But in the best possible way.
Because I remember a time not so long ago when laughing in this house felt too loud, too bright, too jarring. When it was so easily usurped by grief.
Now…
Now as I get up to make popcorn, Chloe’s grinning and Finn is passing her a bag of gummy worms before going—heaven help me—to her stack of fabric and perusing her choices, it feels normal.
Right.
I plunk the bag of popcorn into the microwave and wait for it to finish before dividing its contents into three bowls.
“Thanks,” Finn murmurs when I go back into the family room and hand her one.
I pass Chloe hers and settle on the other side of her with my own.
“Are you going to show Daddy how to do his blanket?” she asks.
Finn hesitates. “I think your dad probably just wants to relax.”
I should take the out she’s clearly giving me.
But—maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s that I’m a glutton for punishment, maybe I just want an excuse to be close to Finn—but I set the popcorn down and pick up the fabric from the table. “I think I’d like to learn how to multitask too.”
Her eyes come to mine.
Just for a second.
Then her expression softens and she nods. “Okay.”
The explanation doesn’t take long because it’s just tying knots, but I listen to her solemnly before I start tying.
Her eyes flick to Chloe, whose focus is glued to the screen as she pounds gummy worms and popcorn in equal measure, and then she leans closer, her lips going to my ear. “You don’t have to do this.”
I turn to face her, intending to tell her I don’t mind, and—
Freeze.
Because her mouth is suddenly right there and—
Kiss me, Rhodes.
“No talking during the songs,” Chloe says sternly.
Finn and I jerk apart, and I clear my throat. “Got it, boss,” I manage to say in something close to a light tone.
She nods approvingly and focuses back on the movie.
I look back at Finn, but her gaze is on her lap, as though the fabric she’s pinning together is a matter of utmost importance.
But she’s present too.
Laughing at the right parts.
Singing along with Chloe to one of the songs.
Automatically passing Chloe her water cup before she asks for it, catching the blanket Chloe’s using when she wiggles too much and it starts slipping to the floor, rescuing Chloe’s stuffie from the clutches of Olive and Pear.
Little things.
The kind of things no one would notice unless they were in our home, unless they were living here…unless paying too much attention.
Which, clearly, I am.
As the plot winds down, Chloe starts to fade too.
Her little body grows heavier against my side. Her responses get slower and the singing stops all together. The gummy worm she’s clutching slips from her fingers and drops onto the blanket.
Finn notices first, picking up the remote and pausing the movie.
“She’s done for,” I murmur.
“Oh, yeah.” Finn’s smile is tender as she snags the candy, smooths back Chloe’s hair.
“I’ll take her up,” I whisper.
Finn nods, but when I shift forward, Chloe makes a sleepy protest and burrows more firmly against me, throwing an arm around Finn and I both.
We go still.
Then Finn looks at me, amusement and tenderness mingling in her gaze. “Maybe give her a minute?”
I settle back slowly, shake my head. “Softie.”
A shrug. “What can I say, I like your kid.”
And I like you.
But I don’t say that, and quiet falls between us.
It should be awkward, sitting here in the dim light with Chloe asleep between us.
But it’s not.
Instead, it’s peaceful.
It’s…right.
“You’re a good dad,” Finn says quietly, staring down at Chloe and carefully smoothing back her hair again.
“Because I let her adopt two kittens?”
Both of whom are curled up along the back of the couch, probably waiting until we all head off to bed to make trouble.
“No,” she says with a smile. “Because you are.” A wink. “And I’m not just saying that because you agreed to watch this movie.”
I laugh softly. “Thanks,” I whisper. “Sometimes…” I trail off, shake my head.
“Sometimes what?”
I look away, sigh heavily. “Sometimes it feels like I’m failing on all fronts.”
Finn reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re doing really well. She’s bright and happy and has a lot of friends.”
I nod. “It took her a while to get close to people after Anna died.” I blow out a breath. “I think for a while it was easier for her if her world stayed small—me, her teachers, a few of the guys from the team and their families.”
“And Chrissy’s kittens.”
My lips twitch. “Exactly.” I press a kiss to the top of Chloe’s head. “Then you showed up on the porch with your bag full of fabric and glitter and showed her that mismatched pieces can still make something beautiful.”
“It was the pink,” she jokes, but her eyes have gone damp.
I flip my hand over, lace our fingers together. “I’ve never seen her take to someone like she’s taken to you, and it’s because you’re you, Finn. You’re kind and funny and you care, and you’re exceptionally good at what you do.” I squeeze lightly. “And I’m so glad you’re in our lives.”
She’s silent.
Except for the long, slow breath she takes.
“Thanks for saying that,” she eventually whispers.
“I’m not just saying it.” I squeeze again, wait for her eyes to come to mine. “I mean it.”
“Rhodes,” she whispers. “It’s not hard to care about her. She’s special.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“You know she gets that from you.”
I snort quietly. “Hardly.”
“She does,” Finn presses, and there’s a fierceness in her words, her expression that has my pulse speeding through my veins. “She knows she can be herself and she feels safe with you. That’s not nothing.”
My chest tightens.
Because, fuck, there was a time after Anna died, when safe felt impossible.
When every room in this house carried the echo of what we lost.
When I’d lie awake listening to Chloe breathe through the baby monitor long after she’d outgrown it because fear had turned me into something raw and small and terrible.
But when I look at my daughter now, I know that Finn is right.
Chloe is confident and secure and so very loved.
“She feels safe with you too,” I say.
Finn’s breath catches, and for a moment, she doesn’t speak. Then she says, so softly I almost don’t hear it, “I love the kid.”
Not for a second do I doubt the truth of those words.
Nor the fact that they barrel into me with the force of a Mack Truck.
“Finn,” I whisper.
She exhales and it’s as though there’s a string between our bodies, pulling them closer together.
Two feet. One. Six inches—
“Daddy,” Chloe mumbles, burrowing into my lap.
She's still asleep, but the spell is broken.
Finn slips out from under her arm, starts gathering bowls. “I’ll clean up.” A small smile. “You should probably put her to bed before you’re trapped there all night.”
“You’re right,” I say, gathering my daughter close and standing. “Good—”
But Finn has already disappeared into the kitchen.
I stand there, staring at the empty space she left behind.
And I think…
Maybe a part of me wishes she’d love me too.