16. Finn
SIXTEEN
Finn
I first noticed warmth, solid and comforting against my back, the steady rise and fall of Walker’s chest syncing with my breathing.
His arm lay heavy across my waist, his fingers curled loosely where they’d found my hip.
I didn’t want to move. The room was still, bathed in soft morning light that filtered through the gaps in my curtains.
Outside, faint sounds of life drifted in—a car door slamming, distant footsteps crunching on frozen snow—but here, in this bed, it was quiet and safe.
Images from yesterday invaded my thoughts: Jamie’s pale face, the echo of shouts down the hallway, and the cold grip of fear in my gut.
I screwed my eyes tight, trying to push it all back.
Maybe I moved, trying to shake it off, but Walker shifted slightly behind me, his breath warming the back of my neck.
He murmured something low, a soft hum that vibrated against my skin.
The noise faded away, and I sank deeper into the pillow.
I could stay like this forever.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand flexed against my hip, sliding lower an inch at a time, his knuckles brushing bare skin. My breath caught. Walker moaned again, still half- asleep, and his hand pressed closer, fingertips dragging lightly over my belly.
“You awake?” he mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Yeah,” I whispered back, barely louder than a breath.
“You okay?”
“Trying to be.”
“Good.” His lips found my shoulder, warm and dry, pressing lazy kisses along the curve of my neck. I arched back instinctively, nestling tighter against him. His body—solid, warm, perfect—moved with mine, fitting against me like a puzzle piece.
“I like waking up like this,” I admitted quietly.
Walker chuckled, low and rough. “Me too.”
He shifted again, rolling his hips forward until I felt him, thick and hard against the curve of my ass. Heat bloomed low in my belly, and suddenly, I couldn’t think of anything except how good it felt to have him this close.
“Yeah?” I teased, nudging back against him.
His breath hitched. “Yeah.”
His hand slid lower, finding the waistband of my boxers, and slipped inside. He cupped me gently, just holding, his thumb brushing back and forth in slow, teasing strokes that made my pulse trip. I moaned softly, rocking my hips into his palm.
“God, you’re warm,” he whispered, voice rough.
“So are you.” I reached back to run my hand over his hip, pulling him closer.
We found a rhythm, slow, deliberate, his hand working me, my body rocking back against his. Skin slid against skin, his cock dragging hot and heavy between my cheeks. Walker groaned, low and deep, his hips stuttering against mine.
“Finn… ” His hand tightened on me just enough to make my breath shudder.
“Yeah,” I gasped, my body humming with tension.
He pressed closer still, the soft grind of his cock against me driving both of us higher. His fingers moved so damn slowly and carefully, but I knew I wasn’t going to last.
“Close,” I choked out.
“Me too,” Walker whispered in my ear, voice tight.
I pushed back hard, feeling him tense behind me as his breath caught, his body shuddering.
Heat spilled between us just as I broke too, gasping his name as my release coated his hand.
We stayed tangled like that for a long time, still breathing hard, my back slick with sweat where his chest pressed tightly against me.
Walker kissed the nape of my neck again, softer this time, gentle and lingering. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
I twisted to face him, sliding one arm around his waist and tugging him closer. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, softened when they met mine.
“I’m really okay.” I sighed.
“Good.” His fingers traced a lazy circle on my lower back.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said softly, and I meant it more than I could explain. The words left my mouth before I knew I would tell them, raw and honest in a way that made my chest ache. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed him until that moment.
Walker’s lips quirked into a small, sleepy smile, softer than anything I’d ever seen from him. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to my mouth, and whispered against my lips, “Me too.”
We lay like that for a while longer, tangled in warmth and quiet comfort, until his alarm for him to get to morning skate chased us from bed.
“It’s not a heavy skate because of the Buccaneers game tonight,” he said after we took turns showering, then spent a long time exchanging lazy, minty kisses in the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours… ” He paused and cleared his throat. “Unless you want to come with me.”
“I’m coming to the game tonight,” I hurried to reassure him.
“Yeah, but you could always come watch me try not to fall over while doing sexy things on the ice.”
Walker’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, grimaced, and muttered, “I have to take this.”
He stepped away from me, his phone pressed to his ear, and I hopped off the counter and started clearing breakfast, which was nothing more than coffee and day-old pastries. The conversation was one-sided, but Walker’s half carried enough information for me to piece things together.
“Yes, I tackled the guy,” Walker was saying.
“No, I’m not a hero… yes… I’m with Finn.
” He glanced at me then, catching my eyes.
“We love each other… ” Harper squealed so loud I could hear her without even being close.
Walker moved the phone from his ear, his eyes wide.
“Jeez, Harp, you’ve deafened me.” He chuckled then.
“Yes, I’m sure. A brother… Connor… yes… I love you too, Harper…
Saturday… no, we’re playing a matinee game…
okay… well, you book it, and we’ll come…
okay… bye, love you.” He grinned at me. “That was Harper.”
“So, I heard.”
“She’s booking a table at Chico’s next Saturday so you can meet her properly, and she wants you to ask Connor to go too.”
“Your sister’s relentless,” I said, amused.
“Yeah,” Walker agreed, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “But she’s right. I haven’t met Connor yet, and I’d like to, and I want you to meet Harper. So, Saturday? Chico’s?”
“Deal.”
Stepping outside the house was more challenging than I expected.
Last night weighed heavily on my shoulders.
Even knowing Jamie’s dad was likely still locked up didn’t offer much comfort.
Or maybe he wasn’t? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
I pulled Detective Aster’s card from my wallet -- which he’d handed me.
As soon as I climbed into the car, I sent him a quick message.
His reply came fast:
Detective Aster: Arrested. Charged with assault, unlawful possession of a firearm, assault on school property, and endangering a minor. Refused bail. Arraignment scheduled for Monday morning.
I read it twice, the words pressing into my chest like the first real breath after holding it underwater.
Charged. Refused bail. That meant he wasn’t walking free anytime soon.
That meant Jamie could sleep easier. So could I.
But it still left a trail of unease curling in my stomach.
Because the damage had already been done, and not all of it could be fixed in court.
I messaged Aster again, fingers hovering before I hit send.
Finn: Do we need to be there? Do I? Does Jamie? Do witnesses go to arraignments?
A few minutes later, he replied.
Detective Aster: Witnesses are not required to attend. They usually aren’t unless the court requests, and I’ll let you know if that changes. Focus on taking care of yourself right now. I’ll handle the courtroom stuff. Keep your head down with the media. Your time will come to have your say.
Speaking of the media, we had to run from a group of them who’d somehow tracked down where I lived. They didn’t come into the apartment block but were outside, snapping photos, shouting questions, and blocking the entrance like vultures scenting blood.
Walker didn’t hesitate. He tugged a cap low over my head, pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, and kept his body angled protectively between me and the crowd as we slipped out the side door and down the fire escape. His hand never left the small of my back.
He got me to his car fast, practically shoving me inside before slamming the door behind me. His jaw was tight, and his knuckles were white around the steering wheel as we peeled out of the lot.
“We’ll get someone to fetch your clothes, then we’re getting a place somewhere else,” he said through gritted teeth. “Somewhere quiet.”
“It’s my home—” I started, but he cut me off.
“But it’s not safe for a while, and, babe, you being safe is my priority.” We stopped at a red light. He looked over at me, something fierce and tender burning behind his eyes. “Let me look after you?”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, ready to say something about independence or practicality, but the look on his face silenced me. It wasn’t a plea. It was a promise. I nodded slowly.
“Okay.” I wasn’t even going to argue.
“And this is the locker room,” Walker announced, holding me back before sticking his head around the door. “Clothes on! We got company!”
There was some cursing, but when he waited for a few more seconds until he let me in, everyone was covered up.
The locker room was buzzing when we walked in, the usual clang of sticks and thump of skates on concrete echoing through the space.
A few guys glanced up as Walker and I entered, their conversations dropping momentarily, but there were no smirks, no whispered comments. Just nods. Respect.
The art boys crowded around one bench, taping sticks and arguing about some abstract spray paint installation one had seen over the weekend. Bob looked up first and gave us a low whistle.
“Look who’s still standing after all that chaos,” he said.
Walker raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who got tackled.”
I rolled my eyes. “You did the tackling. Big difference.”