Chapter 15 Finn #2
She freezes, and her eyes search mine, and she gets quiet. We’re so close to saying it, the words sitting right on the edge of our mouths. But I know we're not there yet; we still have so many things to work out.
"I mean it," I tell her. "You're more than my best friend to me, Rowan. And nothing can change that. I hope you know that. I would do anything for you, and to make sure that never changes."
She nods, twisting her ankle nervously next to my foot. The ocean breeze floats in through the window, bringing in the sounds of the gulls in the distance.
Finally, she whispers, “I don’t want a love like my parents had. I don’t want to have everything with the love of my life, then lose everything like that. I saw how that made everyone so sad and devastated.”
I trace my thumb across her palm, gently. “Rowan…”
She swallows and continues, her voice cracking a little with emotion.
“When my dad died, everything broke. It was just a normal day, and he went out fishing when the ship went down, and they never found him or Tate’s dad.
The unthinkable happened, and my mom’s never recovered.
She's just… existed after that. I can’t— I don’t want to have my heart ripped out like that. ”
“I don't plan on dying,” I whisper. “If I died, I’d just come back from the grave.”
She lets out a soft laugh, half choked and half real. “That's gross.”
“Romantic,” I counter, grinning. “Nothing could hold me back from being with you.”
“Isn’t that a Hozier song?” she teases. “No grave can hold your body down or something?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And it's true. That can be your song for today.”
She shifts and presses her forehead against mine, and everything else disappears as I kiss her softly.
We've talked about her dad a lot. I was by her side from the night she found out he was missing, to the months and the years after when she had to process that grief with no real closure.
It was hard on all of them. Tate left, he couldn't deal with the grief.
Willa, Ivy, and Lilith got through it by clinging to each other, but it left a mark on all of them.
So when she talks about her dad, it means something.
She's afraid of losing someone, and I get that.
With my dad, I never really had a loss. He was just gone when I was really little.
And we had other people in our lives who stepped up to be in our lives.
But losing her dad not only hurt their family, but our entire Wisteria Cove community.
Her fingers trace lazy circles over my chest, but her shoulders are tight. She’s letting me see that part of her, the one that’s always braced for the rug to get pulled out.
I push her hair back gently. “Hey,” I murmur, “look at me.”
She does. And damn, I feel it down to my bones. Her soft brown eyes, vulnerable, and searching mine.
“You can’t keep living like you’re waiting for the worst day to show up,” I say softly. “What if what you're worrying about never even happens? And you miss out on all the good parts of life?”
She lets out a soft, bitter laugh. “I’ve been the ‘strong one’ for so long. If something breaks again, I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces and I'm so tired, Finn.”
I trace a line down her jaw, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Then let me help you carry it. You’ve got me, Row.”
Her breath catches, and that tiny sound is going to live rent-free in my mind forever.
“What if we just…” I pause, swallow, then let it out. “What if we stop overthinking every single thing? We get one life. What if we don’t waste it hiding from what we want?”
She blinks at me like she didn’t expect me to say it out loud.
“We’re adults,” I add, a little dryly. “If it works, we figure it out together. If it doesn’t… we’ll still figure it out together. Because that’s what we’ve always done.”
She huffs out a sound and loosens something in her shoulders. She shifts closer, pressing her cold toes against my leg to mess with me.
“God, you’re always so brave,” she whispers. "You believe in things even if they might not work out. How do you do that?"
“Because I know what I want and I know what I'm going to fight like hell for, Rowan.”
She shakes her head like she’s trying to fight a smile. “You really think it could work with us? For real?”
“Rowan,” I say, leaning in until our noses brush. “This already is working. You and me? We’ve been a team since we were kids. This just… adds kissing and more. And frankly, that’s been pretty damn great too.”
We both know we’re circling something dangerous and beautiful here.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as I kiss her neck. “What if we just… try? No what-ifs. No expiration dates. You and me, and whatever comes next.”
Her fingers fist in my shirt, pulling me closer. “Finn,” she whispers, like my name’s the safest thing she knows.
I lean in slowly, like if I rush this, the spell will break. Her lips brush mine, feather-light, and something in my chest stumbles. It’s about everything we’ve never said, everything that’s been simmering for years.
When she exhales against my mouth, I feel it all the way down to my bones.
The kiss deepens, piece by piece. Like the tide sneaking up the sand, drawing me under one inch at a time. Her fingers slide into my hair, slow and sure, curling tight like she’s anchoring herself to me.
I shift, rolling us gently until she’s on top of me, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of my hips. Her hair falls around us like a curtain, shutting the rest of the world out.
She lets out this soft little laugh against my mouth, half surprise, half joy, and it hits me square in the chest. God, I love that sound.
I look up at her and know, without a doubt, that I’m already done for. I cup the back of her neck, keeping her close. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out,” I promise.
“Yeah?” she whispers, searching my eyes.
“Yeah.”
And then there’s no more talking. Just the slow burn of her against me, the salt in the air, and the quiet, terrifying, perfect feeling of knowing we’re not pretending anymore.
This isn’t just one week. This is something real.