Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
F inn couldn’t get Mak’s words out of his head the rest of the day.
They hadn’t talked during the remainder of the ride, and Mak seemed to understand and didn’t pressure him to try.
He’d blamed himself for so long, held himself responsible for so long, he wasn’t sure he could set the guilt he felt aside. Forgive himself for demanding his parents turn around and go back to the house because he’d forgotten his lucky mitt.
He’d actually believed he couldn’t play the game without it. So they’d gone back, and that was why they were on the road at that spot, right when the guy had hit them in a head-on collision.
Mak’s suggestion to write a letter to his parents had stayed with him as well. It was one of the suggestions his therapist had made many years ago. One of many he’d ignored.
And even though he’d come into the office to work on next week’s schedule, he’d found himself staring at a blank computer screen. One now filled with every soul-baring, blame-filled thought he’d ever had about the accident.
Pages and pages of words.
Late.
My fault.
So sorry.
Trapped.
Couldn’t reach you.
So much blood.
Screaming. You screamed for help, but nobody came. Then you got quiet.
I’m sorry.
Love you.
My fault.
Miss you.
My fault.
My fault.
MY—
The words had poured out of him, making his hands shake, his body and throat tight, and his eyes glaze over with tears as he battled to purge the anger and emotions emptying from his soul.
Finally the words had slowed and, after a while, stopped. Because every time he tried to blame himself, Emi’s sweet face popped into his head along with Mak’s words.
His parents had been loving and kind. Not perfect. His dad had a temper he’d passed down to pretty much all of them. But they’d been solid and steady in a world where that wasn’t always the case. And now, maybe for the first time ever, he really tried to put himself in their shoes. To see things as they might’ve.
He leaned forward and put his hands on the keys, moving the cursor down a few lines and starting another letter. This one to Emi—because as weird as it seemed, it was easier to imagine talking to the precious girl instead of himself.
You didn’t mean to make us late.
We all had to use bathroom before we left again. That took time.
Dad took a phone call from the gas station.
People forget things all the time.
It was just an accident.
You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t save us.
You’re just a boy. You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.
Were you driving the other car?
You were just a kid.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault.
It’s NOT your fault.
His chest felt tight, and he sucked in a breath when he realized he wasn’t breathing.
He dragged a hand over his eyes to wipe away the tears, drained to the point the words blurred and looked fuzzy. All this time he’d remembered the accident through a child’s eyes, but now—he saw it as an adult. As someone who could take an objective look and see what happened for what it was. A tragedy, yes. Horrific, yes. Unthinkable. But not his fault.
He sat back and stared at the screen. Felt as though he stepped outside himself and physically separated from the kid on that page versus the man he was now.
Was that possible?
It had to be because Mak was right. He’d never blame Emi. So why was he blaming himself after all of these years?
Why did he carry that burden like a punishment for something he hadn’t even done?
His fingers found the keys again, and even though he couldn’t see clearly this time, he typed anyway.
Live for them.
LOVE for them.
Let it go.
Finn sat back in his chair once more, numb from expelling all the thoughts and words and emotions. Despite the utter exhaustion he now felt, a humungous weight had been lifted from him.
Such a weird juxtaposition of bad and good. Relief and fatigue. He supposed carrying that much guilt around for so long did that to a person. Dragged at the bones and spirit and psyche until every breath was tinged with pain.
He inhaled until his lungs couldn’t hold more and released the breath with a gush.
When they’d returned to the farm, Mak had thanked him for the ride before she’d told him she’d meant what she’d said along the water about the accident not being his fault.
He’d simply nodded, at which she’d inhaled and sighed, muttering something about “stubborn men” before adding that she could be stubborn too and would be around to remind him when she came back to bake.
She’d left then, but that bit of sass from such a small package and the fact he knew she’d probably gloat in her quiet Mak way should she find out that the letter writing thing had seemed to help, brought a tired smile to his lips.
He thought of her other suggestions about burning the letter or burying it with his parents and decided it couldn’t hurt. He hadn’t been to the gravesite since the day of their funeral, unable to make himself go because of the pain he believed he’d caused everyone.
But now?
Maybe it was time…
Minutes later, Finn stared down at the printed letter turning orange then black. He’d read it through twice before lighting it up in a metal trash can right there in his office.
Probably not the smartest thing he’d done, but he figured the bottle of water on his desk would suffice should things get out of hand.
What he hadn’t considered or thought of was the fire alarm going off, and Gage and Hudson bursting into the house roaring his name and witnessing his fiery tribute.
Smoke curled toward the ceiling, the alarm blared with ear-splitting intensity, and his brothers stopped in their tracks to stare at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Open the windows,” Hudson said. “I’ll put out the fire.”
“Don’t touch it.” The flames were almost out anyway, with only the ashes left—along with the smoke cradling the ceiling like a blanket.
“Somebody, get that alarm,” Gage ordered as he flipped the locks and yanked the panes high.
Hudson rushed to the alarm and flipped it open, then yanked the battery out. Blessed silence followed.
Gage opened the last window in the room, and Hudson eyed the trashcan as though ready to go into fireman mode again. Finn smothered a cough and wondered how he was going to explain.
“Seriously? You couldn’t have walked whatever that was twenty feet outside before setting it on fire?”
Finn smirked. Hudson had crossed his arms over his chest as he’d talked, looking like a put-out father who’d just caught his kid smoking. “Didn’t want to risk a brush fire. And I had it covered.” He motioned toward the water bottle.
“What was that?” Gage asked, moving back in front of the desk.
Finn leaned back in his chair before surging to his feet and rounding the side. “I need a drink.”
“Well, you’ve got water right there.”
Hudson made the statement with enough snark that had Finn’s fist connecting with Hud’s shoulder as he walked by.
“Ow! Not nice considering we came running in to pull your ass out of a fire,” Hudson said as he stalked every step behind him.
His brothers followed him to the kitchen, and he retrieved them drinks from the fridge. “Sorry for the scare. It was nothing.”
“It was something,” Gage said. “Or you wouldn’t have felt the need to burn it.”
Okay, maybe that was true. Especially when the next step was burying it too. Why not? If it worked to put the stutter to rest, he’d do it. “Someone suggested I write a letter and then burn it or bury it.”
Gage looked like a confused puppy, but Hud’s expression narrowed in understanding.
“It was about Mom and Dad, wasn’t it?” Hud asked.
Finn yanked out a chair at the table and plopped himself down. His brothers did the same, and after a long pull from the bottle he held, Finn nodded. “Yeah. It was a letter about why I’ve always felt responsible for what happened. The accident. And…also about why I finally realize it wasn’t my fault.”
He lifted his gaze and found both of them staring at him like he’d grown two heads. “What?”
“Nothing. I mean, I’m glad you figured it out,” Gage said. “Just hate that it took you so long.”
“Slow on the uptake,” Hud niggled.
Finn huffed out a breath and then groaned. “Yeah, well, I’ve been stuck in the backseat of that car for way too long.”
“So where’d this mind-blowing revelation come from?” Hudson canted his head. “Does this have something to do with Mak?”
He took another drink and figured if they cared enough to ask, maybe he ought to care enough to talk more than he had in the past. “She’s part of it. We went for a ride and talked. She said writing the letter might help. Turns out it did.”
“So are you two a thing?” Gage asked.
“Yeah, I wanna know that, too.”
Finn glared at Hudson. “We’re not a thing—but you’re still staying away from her.”
“You really like her,” Gage said. “Especially if you’re sharing histories as heavy as yours.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the bite of the rough callouses adorning skin. “Mak thinks I’m only interested in her because of Sam’s property. Jensen said something to her about it.”
“You told her differently, though, right? You liked her a while before you ever found out about Sam being sick.” Hudson’s defensive tone revealed his upset over the accusation.
“I did— I do—like her,” he admitted, “but if she believes that…”
“What? You’re just going to let her?” Hudson snorted. “I thought you had more backbone than that.”
“Watch it,” Finn warned.
“He’s got a point,” Gage said with an unapologetic grimace. “Unless it is true, why would you let her think that?”
“I can’t change what she believes. She has to figure that out on her own.” Finn argued. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Dawson finished the paperwork for Sam and asked if we’d drop it off on our way to Wrightsville.” Gage waved a hand toward the door. “We pulled in and heard the alarm. The paperwork’s still out there.”
“We were also hoping Mak was here baking so we could taste test for her,” Hudson added.
Gage shook his head and stood. “I’ll go grab the folder. Be right back.”
Gage left, and Hudson cleared his throat. “Finn, I may not know much about serious relationships, but don’t give up on her. You remember what it was like dealing with Jensen in high school. I remember the stories, and I wasn’t even there. But Mak was married to the guy. It’s gonna take time for her to trust anyone, let alone a nice guy who probably seems too good to be true.”
“It’s not just him, though Jensen is definitely a factor. She says we need to keep things professional. She’s afraid that if we blur the lines and it goes bad, I’d revoke the use of the kitchen.”
“So put it in writing. Say you won’t and… I don’t know, say you’ll avoid the kitchen while she’s baking should you not work out. That’s easy enough.”
Nothing about Mak was easy. Not when they had an ocean’s depth of baggage between them.
“Show her you mean it and then pull out the big guns. Romance her. Flirt with her. Text her. Get the Sam thing settled and show Mak you’ll still be there for her.”
Finn shifted his gaze to Hudson and downed the last of his drink. “Grand gestures, huh?”
Hudson grinned. “It’s the only way to win the girls.”
Mak parked outside the venue space and took a deep breath. She’d called London’s Lattes and talked to London, informing the woman that she’d gotten her license approved.
London had immediately congratulated her and placed an order, stating that she’d taken the samples to share with her family and they’d loved everything.
Then after about ten minutes or so, London had called back and ordered more for the pier house on behalf of her parents.
So while Emi played in the kid’s area, Mak planned to bake the day away.
She got out and opened Emi’s door, helping her daughter out before grabbing the first of her supplies. The one bad thing about using Finn’s beautiful kitchen was having to transport all the ingredients and pans and things back and forth.
More reason to succeed and have your own storefront.
She and Emi walked inside, and Emi immediately ran toward the horses on springs and climbed aboard with a yeehaw, a word Sam had said cowgirls used when riding.
Mak chuckled at Emi’s antics and turned to head into the kitchen when her steps faltered. A giant, beautiful flower arrangement sat atop the massive island where it couldn’t be missed.
She moved closer, oohing over the delicate petals of the red-rose bouquet.
But the card sticking out at the top? It had her name on it and that fact left her speechless.
Mak quickly set the bags down and plucked the card from the plastic holder. She opened the envelope and bit her lip when it simply said Finn.
“I couldn’t fit what I wanted to say on that card.”
She whirled at the sound of his voice. At the fact every word had been said without the stutter.
Eyes wide, she found herself speechless for the second time in such a short period. Finn looked nervous and unsure of himself and yet— He wasn’t stuttering. “ Finn .”
“I wrote the letter. The one to my parents.”
The air left her lungs, and she could’ve sworn she felt her heart breaking over the huskiness in his voice. Not from the lack of stutter but from emotion that squeezed like a fist.
“I wanted to say thank you and ask— If you’d go with me. To the cemetery.” He tucked his thumbs into his jeans pockets and shrugged one shoulder. “It would mean a lot to me. I haven’t gone since— I haven’t gone. I couldn’t.”
Shattered. Her heart shattered with his words, and she nodded without hesitation. “I would be honored,” she said, the words thick with the emotion she struggled to keep in check.
The visible relief on his face softened her even more and she found herself smiling and battling the sting of tears. Hopefully Finn would one day be able to truly put the accident and guilt behind him, knowing there was nothing he could’ve done. But this? This was a marvelous first step. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“I wanted to congratulate you on your first official day of the Itty-Bitty Bakery. Do you…need help carrying stuff in?”
She nodded, faltering only because she struggled to believe something she’d said had made such a huge change in him. During one of her sleepless nights, she’d read up on the parasympathetic nervous system and how it impacted people in different ways. To hear Finn now? She wanted to jump up and down and cheer, but she didn’t want to embarrass him. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great, thank you.”
She watched as he turned to go but couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She dropped the card on the countertop. “Finn, wait.”
She jogged over and wrapped her arms around him, unable to help herself. “I’m so glad you wrote the letter. And I’m so glad it helped.”
He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her against him, and she reveled in the hug she hadn’t known she needed so desperately.
“Me, too.”
Mak spent the day baking. By late afternoon, she had covered nearly ever counter with a cooling rack and treats.
Emi was an angel, even though she had to play by herself. She kept up a steady stream of chatter with her dolls, watched videos, and after a picnic lunch, they took a walk outside to see the animals before Emi settled on the lounge cushion Mak had tossed into the car at the last second and fell asleep with a book.
“You’ve been busy.”
She startled and laughed softly at her response. “You really need to make some noise when you walk,” she said as she faced Finn.
“You didn’t see or hear the door open?”
“I probably had my head in the oven checking on these,” she said, taking off the oven mitts.
“It smells great in here. A warning though— If Hudson decides to drop in and sees this, you’ll lose half your product to his stomach.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I haven’t iced them or finished them yet.”
“Like that’ll stop him.”
She plucked one of the strawberry minicakes from the closest rack as well as a chocolate filled miniloaf. She tried to avoid eating her concoctions, but sometimes a girl needed a snack, and she figured handsome cowboy farmers did as well. “Chocolate or strawberry?”
Finn stepped close, then swooped in and took a bite of the chocolate while she held it. She gasped out a laugh to cover her surprise and began to pull back, but he gently took her wrist in hand.
“My hands are dirty,” he murmured in a deep voice.
He took another bite, his gaze holding hers with a look that left her breathless.
He nipped her fingers in the process of finishing the minimorsel.
“Delicious.”
Mak swallowed hard as he shifted his hold and brought her fingers to his mouth. “F-finn…”
Her pulse skyrocketed to a dizzying pace, and her gaze lowered to his lips and held. She watched as his tongue flicked across her fingertips, gathering the crumbs before he kissed the pads and lowered their clasped hands to his chest.
“I brought you something. It’s…rough, but I think it makes the point. Will you read it?”
She blinked at the sudden shift in—whatever that was that just happened. “Now?”
His lips quirked at the corners, and she had the sudden urge to kiss them.
“Yeah, now. Won’t take but a minute.”
He plucked a folded sheet of paper from his rear pocket and held it for her to take.
She unfolded the paper and scanned it quickly, wondering if she imagined the words—and his signature scrawled across the bottom. “You want me to sign this?”
It was the only thing she could think to say at the moment.
“I would like that, yes.”
His low Carolina drawl left butterflies behind when combined with the way he gazed at her.
“You’re worried I’ll revoke access to this place if we get together and something goes wrong. That fixes any question or awkwardness should we have a falling out of any sort.”
She blinked at him, at a loss for words. First the flowers, the letter, now this? “Finn, this is— Why ?”
“Because Jensen is wrong. And I’d like the chance to prove it to you.”
His foresty-green eyes held her gaze and didn’t let go. “But…what about Brad?”
“He won’t make it easy for you,” Finn said softly.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” That wasn’t entirely true, and she couldn’t stand the thought of Brad talking to—about—Finn the way that he did. “It’s Emi—and you.”
Finn acknowledged her words with a shake of his head and a look of disappointment.
“Then I guess we’re back to that question of whether or not we are worth the fight to you. I’m willing to do the hard work, Mak. I’m ready. Are you?”
He ran his knuckles over her cheek and then leaned low to brush a soft, sweet kiss across her lips.
“And just so you know, my hands weren’t dirty.”