CHAPTER FOURTEEN FINLEY
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FINLEY
We’re sitting at the table, tearing into her sourdough bread, and I must admit…it’s incredible. The crust is perfect, the crumb soft and springy, and the flavor—God the flavor—it’s out of this world.
“Alex, this is outrageously good.” I say, taking another bite.
“Thanks, I was going to use this recipe for the slider buns for my entry at the Thanksgiving festival… but I don’t think I’m going to enter now.” She shrugs, a little sad.
I nearly choke on my bread. “What?! You have to! Those corporate dicks—Krueger’s—they’re coming. If you don’t enter… I… I don’t know if I can beat them on my own.”
“What?” she says, frowning.
“They’re trying to wedge themselves into town.” I say, leaning forward. “We should work together. You and me, we’ll definitely win.”
She looks at me, her grin slow and teasing, and God, I missed it. “Okay… let’s do it,” she says.
She turns toward the window, her voice quiet. “It’s getting late. Do you think we could make it home?”
I stand, walking to the front doors. My palms press against the cold glass as I stare out into the storm. Snow whips in thick waves, tree branches bending and snapping in the wind. I shake my head and turn back to her. “No. It’s bad out there.”
She sighs, then disappears down one of the aisles. A minute later she comes back with several rolled up sleeping bags in her arms.
She drops them down onto the floor with a quiet thud and plants her hands on her hips.
“Well,” she says, half smiling, “I guess it’s a market sleepover then.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I guess so, huh.”
We spread the sleeping bags out side by side, layering them for extra padding. She vanishes again and comes back holding two massive Squishmallows.
She tosses one toward me. “We don’t have pillows,” she says with a shrug, “but we have these.”
I catch it, smirking. “Perfect. Nothing beats sleeping on a giant stuffed candy corn.”
Her laugh fills the empty store, and it feels good to see her happy again. To see her smiling and laughing again. It’s crazy that I once thought her bright smile was annoying.
Now it’s something I want to see every day. Now I want to be the reason she has that smile plastered on her beautiful face.
She props a large tablet up on a chair beside us, the screen casting a soft glow. A cozy fall romcom starts playing. She settles down onto the makeshift bed, tugging the blanket up around her shoulders.
I stand there awkwardly for a moment. Am I supposed to sleep…next to her? We only made one big pallet.
She looks up at me with curious eyes. “Are you going to lay down?”
I clear my throat. “I—uh… yes.”
Kicking off my boots, I lower myself into the space beside her, careful not to get too close. I can smell her—sweet, floral, and clean, like fresh linen and daisies. It’s intoxicating. And calming.
She’s lying on her side; eyes fixed on the movie playing across the screen. The soft flicker of light dances over her pretty face.
I find myself staring at her delicate features. How could anyone ever hurt her? How could anyone look at this woman—this gentle, kind, cheerful, intelligent woman—and decide to be the reason she feels pain.
The thought burns in my mind. My jaw tightens, fists clenching under the blanket. I force myself to breathe, slow and steady. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to quiet the storm building in my veins.
She shifts beside me, her voice soft. “Earlier, you said you have your own stuff going on.”
I open my eyes, staring up at the ceiling.
She continues, “do you want to talk about it?”
I hold my breath, unsure what to say. She opened up to me. She trusted me. Told me everything—things I know hurt her to talk about. And I still haven’t told her the real reason I’m such an ass. The truth sits heavy in my chest. It’s right there clawing its way up.
I let out a long breath, “Alex… do you remember me from school?”
She blinks, turning her head on the pillow to look at me. “I think? I’m not really sure, I’m sorry. I know we went to the same school, and you were a few grades above me. But I don’t remember any details other than that.”
I nod slowly. Figures. Why would she? Back then, I wasn’t exactly the kind of person people noticed. At least not for anything good.
I take a shaky breath, trying to calm the pounding in my chest before I speak. “My senior year of high school,” I start slowly, “you were a freshman. You hung out with the older kids, the ones everyone thought were cool. You spent a lot of time with that loser who drove the black BMW.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Your friends—and you—started a rumor. One that… ruined my little teenage life. And it was really bad, Alex.”
I force out a breath, my voice low. “So yeah, I was an asshole. And I’m sorry. But… that’s why.”
Alex covers her mouth, her eyes wide. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.”
She lies there, her expression distant deep in thought. Then softly, almost afraid to ask, she says, “What was the rumor?”
I knew the question was coming, but hell, I still didn’t prepare for it. I let out a long breath and drag a hand over my face. “The rumor was that my dad and I killed my mom.”
Her mouth parts slightly, but I keep going before I chicken out.
“When she died, I… didn’t handle it well.
Still don’t, honestly. Years went by, and I thought I was doing okay—at least I was trying.
But then you and your friends started that rumor, and it spread like wildfire.
Everyone whispered about me when I walked the halls.
Nobody wanted to be around me. People even stopped coming to the farm.
It got so bad I just… dropped out. And I… I hated you.”
Her hand finds my face, soft and trembling. “Finley,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”
Her expression changes then—like something just clicked. Her eyes go wide. “The loser with the black BMW? That was Chase. My ex.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck, like fire creeping through my veins. Better reason to feed him to the pigs.
Her hand is warm against my cheek, pulling me from my sinister thoughts. She’s looking at me—really looking at me—and for a moment I forget how to breathe.
I never realized some of the prettiest things in the world are brown until I looked into her eyes.
Brown like the first fallen leaves in October—the promise of fall. Brown like fields of wheat kissed by golden sunlight. Brown like honey, as sweet as her. Like the earth itself—steady and grounding, full of life.
Looking into her eyes feels like being transported to days full of apple cider, hayrides and running through a rich forest drenched in golden sunlight.
I’ve never put much thought into what my favorite color is. But in this moment, I decide that it’s brown. Honey brown.
My gaze drifts down to her lips, they look so soft, so inviting. I take a steadying breath and slowly, I lean in.