Chapter 22
twenty-two
Rosie
Stretched out on my towel, timber dock at my back and afternoon sunshine wicking river water from my skin, I close my eyes so I can focus on the way this place smells and sounds and feels.
I never want to forget what these weeks at Silver Leaf have given me, even if the thought of leaving makes me want to cry.
I roll my head to the side so I can examine Finn’s profile next to me.
My throat, already sharp with the idea of saying goodbye, tightens even more, and my stomach twists into bleaker knots.
For the thousandth time since we made love last night, I swallow the plea that hovers on my lips. Come with me.
I’m too afraid to say it, even after all my talk of taking back my power and being more confident and in control.
Maybe it was only ever bravado, or maybe I’m only strong with Finn by my side.
After spending six years expecting a man to supply my self-esteem, the idea that I might be doing the same with Finn makes it impossible to ask him for this. After all, if he wanted to, he would.
He’s been quiet all day, stoic and focused while he finalized security plans for my return to LA, and I’m trying to follow his example.
I know he’s hurting as much as I am, and after the last three weeks, I know he deals with difficult emotions by staying busy and getting things done.
It’s selfish to want him to break down to prove he loves me the way I love him, but it would make it easier to take his hand and not let go until we reached Los Angeles.
But that’s not going to happen, and I’m choosing to be distracted by everything waiting for me in LA.
When I told my record label I had new music, they were understandably ecstatic.
My creative juices haven’t exactly been flowing in the last year, and I was on tour before that, so they were already impatient to get me back in the studio.
They’ve offered me a private house until I find my feet and a new manager, and they recommended a fantastic new publicist with loads of experience.
She’s meeting me at the airport at ten a.m. tomorrow so we can talk strategy on the flight to LA, and my new security team will be in place when we get there.
Everything’s coming together. Almost everything. After I leave Finn, I wonder if the world will ever feel complete again.
I turn to my side, prop my head above my elbow, and ignoring the pang of anticipated loss behind my ribs, I try to memorize the shape of the man before me.
Finn’s strong, hard body is a masterpiece of flesh and ink.
His tattoos are a thick maze of intricate shapes and patterns, some faded and others still rich and dark.
I reach over to trace a labyrinthine collection of clouds.
Delicate line work in swirls and swoops beckon my finger to trace them over the gentle dips and ridges of his ribs and muscles.
Finn cracks one eye and turns his head to look at me. “Thought the swim and the sun might have put you to sleep.”
“No. Well, maybe. Just for a minute.”
I glide my fingertip through the wetness on his skin and wonder how light or firm I’d need to press to make him flinch. He’s hard as stone and about as responsive too.
“I like this one,” I tell him, following the lines of sunlight streaming through the cloud bank. “The shading is incredible.”
“Thanks. I like that one too.”
I track the shapes in his art, circling details as they make themselves known. An angel here. A constellation of stars there. Roses. Thorns. Birds. Angels. Sheet music. Guitar strings. Geographical coordinates. Song lyrics. Poetry.
“Invisible and idle,” I read as I brush my thumb over a line of script. “Waiting.”
Finn hums, eyes closed again, face to the sun.
“Did you write that?”
His mouth pulls up at one corner. “It was the first thing I ever wrote. Thought it was profound at the time, so I did what any idiot kid would do—I got it in ink.”
My eyes sting and I blink to stop the tears from falling.
I can still recall the first song I ever wrote, and I can’t imagine being so enamored with it that I’d permanently etch it on my body.
That Finn felt so certain about his art from such a young age breaks me.
What happened that he gave up on it so completely?
“I love it,” I whisper, and I dip my head to kiss the lettering across his heart.
Finn strokes my damp hair, and a deep breath expands his chest. In and out.
“I like the birds,” I add, outlining the shape of two little flying birds on Finn’s stomach. “What are they? Sparrows?”
“Song sparrows,” Finn confirms.
“Pretty.”
I dance my fingers over his skin, experimenting with the pressure until I find the featherlight touch that leaves goose bumps in its wake. Victory.
“These roses are gorgeous,” I murmur, admiring the line work on a piece close to his hip. “I wish I could see them in color. Red, maybe. No. Pink. And green.”
Finn’s mouth quirks in that secretive smile he has. “I can do that for you.”
I straighten, weight leveraged on my arm, for a better look at his face. “You drew that?”
“I drew them all.”
My breath catches, and I release it with his name riding my exhale. “Finn. They’re beautiful.”
His grin widens, which is the only warning I have before he flips his body over mine, carefully rolling me onto my back, cradling my head as he flattens me against the timber.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says before he applies his mouth to mine.
I kiss him back and savor the play of cool and warmth between us. The sun, the water, our skin, his tongue. Oh, God. I’m going to miss this.
“Mm?”
Finn moves along my jaw and down over my neck, lips grazing me as his head moves lower. With a gentle pull, he drags the fabric triangle of my river-ruined bra down over my breast, revealing a nipple already peaked from the water and my arousal, and laves at the tip.
“I thought that maybe… It might be a smart idea…”
He yanks at the rest of my bra, rougher this time, desperate to get to me, perhaps hearing a clock ticking the same way I do. When I’m exposed, he teases me with tongue and lips and teeth, tugs and twists with nimble fingers until I’m wet and aching and lifting my hips to search for more.
“What?” I can barely get the words out, too distracted by the path Finn’s mouth is moving down toward my navel. “What’s your idea?”
My hands are tangled in his hair, and they grow tighter when he lifts his head and turns his intense caramel-colored eyes on me.
“I want to go with you.”
I gasp, and my heart rockets into my throat, but I’m too scared to believe what I think I’m hearing. “Go with me where?”
Finn rolls off me again, falling to the timber and resting his head on his hand so he can trace my face the way I memorized his earlier.
I slip a hand around his neck to stroke his hair, dissatisfied with being so close without touching him.
This is the part where he’s supposed to smile a little, my uncertainty giving him one of those secret moments of entertainment that light up his eyes.
Instead, his brow furrows, and he mirrors my gesture by cradling my face in his palm.
“I want to go with you to LA.”
I yank him to me, lips crashing together as warmth flushes me all over and my chest fills to bursting. Finn kisses me, licking up the salty tears that fall down my face, until he smiles against my mouth.
“You like the idea?” he asks, and when he pulls away a little, I drag him back so I can bury my face in his neck.
“No, I love it. I love it.”
I breathe in the smell of his skin, savor the safety of his hard arms around me, and I’m tempted to take his gift and run all the way to Los Angeles with it.
But once the dizzying high of his offer passes, an irritating voice of reason turns my head.
I look out over the river, over the redwoods and the blue sky above, the rolling hills of Sonoma and the ranch that is Finn’s legacy.
He’s going to give all this up, and the question I don’t want to ask tumbles out anyway.
“Are you sure, Finn?” I extract myself from his arms so I can read his face. “My schedule will be overwhelming and there won’t be many chances to come back to Silver Leaf. I want you with me, but have you thought about what it means? What you’ll be giving up?”
“I don’t need to think about it.” His jaw clenches and his cognac eyes are bright, and I tell myself it’s his confidence and not willful blindness that makes my heart pound.
“You need me, and I need you. I can’t let you go, Songbird, and you can’t stay here.
The only option is for me to follow where you lead, and that’s what I’m going to do. ”
Finn hooks his big arm around my waist and rolls us to the side, trapping me against his chest with his embrace. The pounding of his heart is deep and measured against mine, which flutters like a bird in comparison.
“Thank you for giving us a chance,” I tell him.
“I’m the one who needs to thank you,” he says. “For trusting me enough to come here when you needed help and for giving me purpose. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe and protected.” His voice drops and his throat bobs in a nervous swallow before he adds, “And loved.”
My chest isn’t large enough to contain the hurricane of emotions swirling inside me, and they bubble up in my throat.
“I love you, Finn,” I whisper, tucking my head against his chest.
I’m the luckiest woman in the world because he kisses my hair, holds me tighter, and says, “I’m sure I love you more.”