Chapter 17
Seventeen
Finn
“I wish you could stay forever.”
The words are so soft I almost miss them.
I look up from where I’m wiping down the counter and find Chloe’s watching me, her chin propped in both hands.
My heart squeezes.
Because there’s no drama in her expression.
No whining. No tantrum.
Just simple truth.
And sadness.
I set the dish towel aside and move over to her, closing the computer.
Damn.
I should have known it was a mistake to show her the plans I put together.
But when she asked about my trip, she seemed truly interested, so I’d opened my itinerary and told her all about the places I planned to visit, showed the slideshow of pictures I’ve put together.
She was excited…
And now her eyes are damp with tears.
Stupid.
Just as stupid as it was for me to text Rhodes last night…and then for continuing the conversation with him.
I keep reminding myself that I need to keep some distance between Chloe, Rhodes, and me, that I’m only going to make it harder on all of us when I leave by getting so attached.
But…
It’s not friendship I want with Rhodes.
And there’s no hope of guarding my heart against Chloe.
I meant it when I said I love her.
She’ll always have a place in my heart, there’s no doubt about it.
I just…
Need to remember I’m leaving, that I’m not giving up on my plans, on myself. That I won’t stay long enough for them to—
Realize I’m not good enough.
But all of that seems like bullshit when Chloe sniffs. I shift closer so I can slip my arm around her shoulders and draw her against me. “I’m just going to be gone for a few months, and then I’ll come back and visit. I promise.”
She frowns. “But you won’t be here.”
“No. But I’ll still know where the house is.” I try for a joke. “And I’ll bring you back a really cool present.”
That doesn’t work.
If anything, it backfires.
Her lower lip wobbles.
“But you won’t be living here,” she says, her voice getting smaller. “You’re going to leave. Just like my mom did.”
The air leaves my lungs.
“Oh, honey.”
She shakes off my arm, jumps down from the stool.
“Chloe—”
But her eyes spill over and suddenly she’s sobbing, but when I reach for her she backs away, shaking her head.
Fuck.
“Baby, I—”
But I stop, panic stealing my words.
Because I don’t know what the right thing to do is, what the right thing to say is.
I don’t know how to take away the hurt she’s carrying, the hurt she knows far too young about what it means when people leave forever.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, even though I don’t think that’s right either.
But at least she lets me hug her.
For all of two seconds.
Then twists out of my hold and runs away, her feet pounding on the stairs.
“Chloe!”
Her bedroom door slams as I’m following her, and when I make it there, knocking softly and trying the handle, it’s to find it locked.
“Shit,” I whisper, very close to tears myself. “Chloe,” I say a little louder as I knock again. “Will you let me in so we can talk?”
No response.
I stay where I am for several minutes, guilt eating at my insides.
Then I pull my phone out of my pocket, go into my bedroom, and call Rhodes.
He answers on the second ring. “Is everything okay?”
“No.”
A sharp inhale, his voice going tense. “What happened?”
“I—I messed up,” I admit, hating how shaky my voice sounds. “Chloe started talking about my trip, so I showed her a few places I will be visiting. Then she got really upset and said I was going to leave like her mom a-and now she’s in her room and—”
“I’m coming home.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s okay.” A beat. “I’m coming home, Finn.”
The line clicks dead.
Miserable, I go and sit at the top of the stairs, hoping she’ll come out, wanting Rhodes to get here as quickly as possible…and all the while, hearing Chloe’s quiet, devastated voice on repeat.
You’re going to leave. Just like my mom did.
By the time Rhodes gets home, I’m nearly at my wits’ end.
He comes up the stairs in a hurry, expression drawn tight as his eyes come to mine. “Is she still in her room?”
I nod. “I’m so sorry.”
He sighs, crouches down, then touches my cheek so gently, it’s almost as if I imagined it happening. “It’s not your fault,” he murmurs.
I nod again, but…
I know it is my fault.
He straightens and moves to Chloe’s door, fussing with the handle and—
Pop!
I hear the lock disengage.
Rhodes slips inside, and I stay where I am as I hear the soft murmur of his words.
As I listen for long moments.
As I listen until Chloe finally begins talking too.
Only then do I force myself to go downstairs and start using my nervous energy to make Chloe’s favorite meal—homemade chicken tenders that are seasoned with ranch dressing, rice, steamed carrots, and chocolate mousse for dessert.
I move around the kitchen cooking a meal that probably won’t be eaten and then cleaning things that are already clean, but I’m barely aware of what I’m actually doing.
Most of my focus is upstairs.
Eventually—twenty minutes later, an hour, an eternity, I don’t know—the stairs creak and Rhodes appears in the doorway, exhaustion written into the lines of his face in a way that has nothing to do with a hard day at the rink and everything to do with his grieving daughter.
“How is she?” I ask softly.
He shoves his hands through his hair. “Better, I think.”
Relief washes through me so rapidly I have to grip the edge of the countertop to stay upright.
He watches me, saying nothing for several heartbeats. “She’s just scared.”
“I know.”
“She gets attached and—” A shake of his head. “I think reality intruded, and she got sad.”
“Right.” The word comes out rougher than I intended, and his expression changes.
Softens.
“This isn’t your fault,” he says gently. “We all know you’re leaving at the end of the season.”
I look away, exhale silently, blinking back the burn of my tears. “I know.”
He just waits.
And I exhale, shove my hands through my hair. “I just hate that I can’t fix it.”
“But it’s not your job to fix it.”
No.
But I still want to.
Because wanting to protect Chloe from hurt is becoming second nature.
Because I don’t want Rhodes’s expression to look like it looks now—not ever again.
And if I let myself think about that for too long, I’m going to have to admit some things I’m not ready for.
He turns for the hall. “I’m going to sit with her for a while.”
I nod. Watch as he disappears back upstairs.
And as I stand in the kitchen alone, staring down at my hands, the truths come anyway.
Yes, I’m going to be gone in a few months.
Yes, I can come back to visit.
Yes…I care more than I should.
I think about the way Chloe said those words.
You’re going to leave. Just like my mom did.
And for the first time since I started planning this trip more than a decade ago, I don’t feel excitement.
I just feel dread.