Chapter 9
Finn
YOUR LOVE BY THE OUTFIELD
I wake up to the sound of the ocean drifting through the open window, carrying that salty breeze that always makes me sleep so well.
Allen is curled against my side, snoring like an old man.
He stretches when I move, then curls right back into a little donut shape like he owns the place and isn’t new here.
I never knew I needed a cat, but here we are.
My suitcase is lying open on the floor. I sit up and look at it, feeling that quiet hum in my chest I haven’t felt in a long time.
My hygiene bag sits on the dresser, toothbrush sticking out like it’s mocking me for how early I packed.
I can’t even pretend like I’m not ridiculously excited about this trip with Rowan.
Coconut Beach. With her. I grin like an idiot just thinking about spending a week with her in paradise.
She’ll probably pretend it’s no big deal, because that’s what Rowan does when something feels too close to the chest. But I know her.
She’ll love the beach, and I can already see her there, bare feet in the sand, hair blowing wild, sunlight in her eyes, her skin turning a beautiful, golden color because she tans so easily.
I give Allen a lazy scratch behind the ears. “We’re in trouble, buddy.”
He purrs like he agrees and gives me the most unfriendly stare.
Later that afternoon, I’m in the workshop finishing up the last stain coat on the cabinets for a client, my hands steady as I work. But my brain? It’s nowhere near here. It’s already in Coconut Beach with Rowan.
I picture her laughing and playfully rolling her eyes at me when I pick a corny song for her on a little speaker we take down to the beach. I can see her walking through the sand in one of those bikinis she bought I overheard her showing her sisters. And for the record, they were hot.
“Hey.” Ivy’s voice cuts through my daydream. I look up and she’s walking toward me with a brown paper bag and an amused expression. She holds it out. “I figured you haven’t taken a break or packed yourself something to eat.”
“You’d be right.” I wipe my hands and take the bag. Inside is a sandwich, chips, a cookie, and an apple. Classic Ivy. She’s always taking care of everyone, and she has been the best thing to happen to my brother since Junie.
She hops up on the workbench next to me like she’s done a hundred times. We’ve always had an easy friendship. She knows too much about me, and I trust her with anything. I’ve been confiding in her about Rowan for months now and she always has solid advice when it comes to her sister.
“So,” she says, kicking her feet lightly, “when exactly are you and Rowan going to stop orbiting each other like confused satellites and just become a couple?”
I bark out a laugh as I unwrap the sandwich, suddenly so hungry and remembering I forgot to eat breakfast. “Subtle, Ivy.”
She smirks. “I’m serious. It’s getting annoying seeing you two be so sexually frustrated when we all know you could just put each other out of your misery.”
I lean back against the bench, chewing slowly on a bite of sandwich, trying to keep my voice steady. “I think she thinks we will ruin the friendship if we cross that line.”
The words sit heavy in my chest, because I know that is true. Rowan protects her heart. She has to. She has been dropped too many times. And I have watched every one of those drops. I have picked up the pieces when other people walked away or she lost them, like her dad.
But there is more I never say out loud. It slips past my defenses before I can swallow it down.
“And maybe she worries that it is just attraction,” I admit, staring down at my hands. “Just heat.” My throat feels tight. “She doesn’t date much. She hasn’t had something real in a long time. Maybe she thinks that’s all this is. Something temporary.”
I let out a long breath, rubbing my thumb over the edge of the workbench.
“But that is not what I want with her,” I say quietly, the truth finally rising in my chest. “I want more than that. More than trying to get something out of our system. With Rowan… God.” I shake my head. “With her, I want everything.”
The admission lands between us, real and exposed, and I feel the weight of it settle in my ribs.
“That is why I have held back,” I say, voice low. “Because I’m scared that she will think it’s only physical for me.”
I force myself to meet Ivy’s eyes.
“But she isn’t a fling. She’s it for me. And if she doesn’t feel the same, I can’t risk losing her completely.”
The truth leaves me raw and unsteady.
“She’s the only person I want,” I say softly. “And the one person I’m terrified to lose.”
Ivy tilts her head. “That’s dumb. Look at Remy and me. Tate and Willa. We’re all fine. Beyond fine, actually,” she says wiggling her eyebrows.
I shake my head, snorting. “But Rowan’s different. She’s careful with her heart.”
Ivy nods, her expression softening. “Yeah, you’re probably right. When our dad died, she started pushing people away. She didn’t want to let anyone get too close and risk losing anyone else.”
I stare at the floor, letting that sit heavy in my chest. I’ve always known losing their dad changed everything for them but hearing it directly from Ivy hits different. I nod slowly. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
Remy and I grew up without our biological dad.
But honestly, we’ve always had Pete. He was there for us when it mattered.
And our mom made sure we had everyone in our life who mattered and treated us well.
Last I heard, our dad started a new family a few hours away and never bothered to be a part of our lives.
So, we just leaned into the people who wanted to be there for us.
But losing your dad tragically and losing your dad who is still living are two different types of grief.
I’m not sad about our dad anymore and neither is Remy.
We know who loved us and who mattered. But this whole town was devastated when Tate’s dad and Rowan’s dad went missing on a commercial fishing trip years back and never came back.
Their boat was never recovered either and that was even worse.
No one truly knows what exactly happened.
She bumps her shoulder against mine, loosening the mood. “For what it’s worth, we’re all rooting for you to finally get it together.”
I let out a low laugh. “No pressure, right?”
Her grin turns wicked. “None at all. Just… passionately bang each other until the town of Coconut Beach files a noise complaint.”
I give her a look like what the heck, shake my head, and take another bite of my sandwich, but my brain’s already in Coconut Beach. Back to imagining Rowan walking next to me, laughing, sun on her face.
I can’t predict what will happen. But something about this trip feels like a shift. And I know what I want to happen.
I smile to myself. “We’ll see what happens.”
Ivy’s grin widens. “Oh, I think I know exactly what’s going to happen.”
I’m not going to even pretend I don’t want that, too.
The music’s loud enough that it vibrates through the still mostly empty house I’m remodeling, my summer playlist full of old rock and a little country.
Sweat slides down the back of my neck as I tighten the last screw on the kitchen light fixture that Rowan picked out, my drill grinding over the music.
When it finally clicks into place, I step back, grinning like an idiot.
I look around proudly at my house. This was my friend Tate’s childhood home and when his mom sold it, I made sure it was okay with him before I bought it.
Partly I wanted it for the land that backs up to the cove, and partly because it’s just down the street from Rowan’s shop.
I knew over a decade ago I wanted this house if it ever sold.
Tate didn’t care either way and had no attachment to it.
He was happy to see me put the life back into it that it deserved and try to make better memories here than he had growing up.
It has great bones, and I dreamed about remodeling this house and keeping the historical parts of it intact.
Our uncle passed away leaving his tree farm to us a few years back.
I didn’t really have an interest in the tree farm but my brother has always loved it.
So, he bought me out, giving him the farm, and me the money to buy the house.
I have the house but now I need to fund the renovations.
I’m fixing it up little by little and we’re both living our dreams.
The house sits perched above the rocky shoreline, and feels like it’s been here forever, quietly watching the boats come into the cove.
The cedar shingles have long since faded to a soft silvery gray, and the salt air has worn the siding smooth under years of storms and summer breezes.
White trim frames every window, a little chipped at the corners.
From the porch, you can hear the waves crash against the rocks below. Not loud. Just steady like a heartbeat. Seagulls drift overhead, their calls stretching across the wind.
Inside, the floorboards sigh beneath every step.
I’m replacing a lot of the sub floors but to be honest, I feel like the creaks and groans gives the old house character.
The walls are painted a soft cream in Betsy’s Linen that feels warm and like a blank canvas that’s ready for new life.
The windows are wide and a little wavy with old glass, and when the light hits just right, it spills golden across the room like honey.
A large stone fireplace anchors the living room, and the scent of sea salt clings to the wood mantel no matter how many candles you burn.
It’s the kind of house that feels a little alive. Like it’s waiting for someone to come home. Everything I put into this house makes it feel even more like home.