21. Finn
Finn
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH
T here are times in a man’s life where he has to evaluate things. To really just look in the mirror and ask himself?—
“What the fuck am I doing?”
I say it out loud, but no one’s around to hear it. The bathroom here at The Ascot is empty and I’ve splashed cold water on my face at least twice to get a hold of myself.
Watching Callie stand up for my daughter brought up a feeling I didn’t even know I was missing.
Relief .
Like for the first time, I wasn’t alone in trying to do everything. Or feeling like a constant failure no matter what I did. If Callie hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have seen any of it. Not that Lex would let me help her even if I had.
Callie came over for dinner that night, and the three of us had a discussion where she apologized if she embarrassed Lex by saying something. But my daughter just hugged her. She squeezed her so tight I could see it from where I’d been sitting.
And Callie squeezed her right back.
Which is when the thought, I love them both so much popped into my head without warning and let me tell you; it was unwelcome.
But it’s been living there since then, rent-free, like a little bitch, taunting me constantly.
It was there yesterday when I snuck Callie into the janitor’s closet for another quick make-out session, and again in her classroom when her kids were out at lunch. Like I was seventeen again and breaking all the rules for a hot girl.
Except Callie isn’t a hot girl. She’s a compassionate, smart, funny, sexy woman. And we’ve had an incredible date so far. A date I definitely shouldn’t have asked her on, considering we work together. Or that I’m helping her with her ankle rehab. Or that she’s not planning to stay here.
Oh yeah, or my recent realization that I might be falling in love with her.
“You are such a moron.” Time for more cold water on the face.
I know what I have to do.
I have to tell her we can’t be friends with benefits. We can’t keep seeing each other. And I’ll just omit the part where it’s because I know that in the end, she’ll leave and shatter my soul.
I exit the bathroom and immediately hear her laugh from across the restaurant. You can imagine how quickly my smile fades when I see that she’s talking to the town’s lumbering mechanic. Strong, silent type, that one. No one knows his name or why he’s here, but he’s great with cars and owns the goat that is also the town mayor. Because of course Tuft Swallow elected a fucking goat as mayor while I was in Illinois.
We’re in Robin Springs, though. I bought her out here so we wouldn’t run into anyone from town.
What the hell? He doesn’t talk to anyone, and he’s got Callie laughing?
It’s not jealousy.
It’s not.
But fuck that guy.
Callie offers him a small wave as I approach the table. “It was great to see you,” she smiles. He offers her a curt nod in response before she adds, “You’ll be there next week, right?”
Another silent nod and a knock on the table and he walks away.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but did you actually have a conversation with him?” I sit down. “I don’t think he’s said more than two words to anyone. And those words were for the stupid goat.”
“Who, Crankshaft? He’s a total sweetheart, he’s in my knitting club.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say Crankshaft? ”
“Yeah, that’s what I call him. I mean, I don’t know his real name, but he’s kind of cranky, so I think it fits. And don’t you dare talk shit about Mayor Winston, he’s my emotional support goat. So fluffy…”
“Does Fettuccini suspect anything?”
She grins at me. “Fettuccini is perfectly comfortable with it, actually. Fettuccini understands that Winston and I are just friends, and I’m a straightforward person who clearly communicates her intent to every animal she meets.”
“Well played. Well played.”
“Are you ready to go? I don’t think I can sit in this chair for much longer.”
She’s right, a booth would have been better, but it’s packed here tonight.
“Yeah, sure, let me get the check and I can drive you home.”
“Already paid.” She looks disappointed, but not at paying the bill. Should I not be taking her home? There’s not much else to do around here when you’re on crutches.
Or about to end a date by telling someone you can’t date them.
I strengthen my resolve. It’s better to just get this over with. Rip off the bandaid. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You can get me next time,” she answers.
Shit. No next time. No next time!
“Sounds like a plan.”
What the fuck is wrong with me? Seriously?
Her smile returns, full-watt, and she leads us out of the restaurant.
“Wait, did you say he’s in your knitting club?”
It’s so hot in this car. From the summer weather. That’s definitely why I’m sweating.
We’re parked in front of Callie’s house. She wasn’t eager to jump out and leave, which is good, but I also don’t know how to start this really unpleasant conversation with her. I rub my chest and try to ignore the fact that I know why it’s been bothering me.
She’s way too close.
But also too far away.
I think I’m having a nervous breakdown.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Why?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be dumb, Finn.”
“What do you mean? I’m not being dumb!”
“You’re totally being dumb!”
She’s right, I am being dumb.
“Look,” she begins, “if I’ve said or done anything that makes you uncomfortable, please just tell me so we can talk about it.”
“I promise, you haven’t done anything to upset me.”
“Are you having second thoughts? About what we talked about at my house? Because it’s totally fine if you are, we can go back to the way we were before.”
I’m rendered speechless for a moment. Because she just gave the out that I need. All I have to say is “yes,” and we’ll be just fine. I can salvage what little dignity I have left and preserve some of my heart.
“Is that what you want?” I ask instead.
She pushes out a quick breath. “Finn, I’ve been pretty clear about what I want. I’m asking you what you want now.”
I want to take you back into your bedroom and hear you scream my name. I want to rip off your panties with my teeth and ruin you for all other men. I want you to feel everything that I’m feeling right now. I want you to say you’re done moving around and stay here.
“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” I answer. It’s as close to the truth as I can say out loud right now.
She nods. “That’s okay. I get it.” She wraps my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you so much for dinner tonight.”
“You paid.”
“Yeah, but you asked.” She leans in and kisses my cheek, our hands still clasped. “Have a great weekend, Coach.” She starts to get out of the car, but I grip her hand tightly.
“Stay.” She looks at me like I’m insane and in her defense, I think I am. I owe her more than this. “Look, Callie, I just…you’re the first woman I’ve been out with who’s even met Lex, let alone been part of her life. I guess I don’t know how to handle it when we know you’ll be leaving.”
Her expression softens, and she settles back in her seat. “I told you, I would never want to do anything that would hurt your daughter, I hope you know how serious I am about that.”
“I do.” That’s part of the problem. That’s why you should just stay here. “And Lex understands you aren’t here permanently.”
She turns to look out the windshield and I can see her frowning. “Finn, I’m so sorry. I got ahead of myself on this one, that’s not fair to you. I like you so much, but I don’t want you to do anything unless you know you want it.”
I think this woman is going to break me. “Actually, maybe…maybe we can just sit here for a little while and not worry about that stuff right now.”
The corners of her mouth turn up slightly as she looks back my way. “It’s not going to go away, you know.”
“No, I know it’s not, I’m not avoiding it.” Yes, I am. “I just think we should sleep on it.” Shit, that sounds like I’m trying to nail and bail. “I mean, like, literally sleep on it. Not, you know, sleep together on it, or…whatever…”
She’s full-on grinning now. “You’re so smooth.”
I run my free hand through my hair. “Shut up.”
The mechanical sound of her seat leaning back takes me a little off guard, but she takes her own free hand to point up at the open moon roof. “You can see so many stars here,” she explains. “It’s one of my favorite things about Tuft Swallow.”
I follow her lead and recline, taking a moment to stare at the sky and absorb what she said. “I appreciate it more since I’ve moved back. As a kid growing up here, I took it for granted.”
“Well, that makes sense, kids don’t really have a way to appreciate stuff like that when they don’t know any different.”
“Where did you grow up?” I ask. I still know surprisingly little about her background.
She chuckles. “Oh, man. Where didn’t I grow up? I guess technically it would be Carbondale, this little mountain town in Colorado. I lived there with my parents until my dad passed away when I was eight.”
“I’m so sorry. Were you close?”
“Thank you. Yeah, actually, we were really close. He had this really big personality, you know? He loved experiences and life and books and music. I’m actually named after his favorite Greek muse. He was so excited about it, Mom didn’t even bother arguing.”
“Callie’s a Greek name?”
“Well, my full name is Calliope. But that is privileged information and if you tell anyone, I have legal rights to karate chop you in the throat.”
“Again?”
She covers her face with her hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay,” I laugh. “Self-sufficiency is sexy.”
“Ah, well. I’m nothing if not self-sufficient,” she smiles, but won’t look at me.
“What happened after he passed?” I ask.
It might be a nosy question, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “Honestly, my mom kind of shut down for a while. A lot of people from our community tried to help and offer support, but she couldn’t handle all the reminders of Dad everywhere. I don’t think it was even a month later before we packed up and moved.”
I blow out a breath. “That must have been brutal for you as an eight-year-old.” Just telling Lex we were moving here was enough to crush my soul into a million pieces.
She offers me a smile. “It definitely was. But,” she shrugs, “it was what we did. And Mom taught me that sometimes a fresh start is just what you need.”
Callie seems happy with that, but all I can think of is that it’s a terrible way to cope with loss. And it’s a really terrible way to teach your child how to cope with loss. “Seems like you had a lot of fresh starts,” I venture.
“Ha! Yeah, I don’t know that all of them were really necessary, but…well, they were all an adventure. It’s what inspired me to get my first tattoo. This one here,” she holds up her right arm and I see on her wrist is a red heart with some sort of tiny harp coming up from behind it, and a snail in front of it. “The heart is for my dad, because he was the heart of our family. The snail is for my mom. We made a home wherever we went, with just the stuff on our backs.”
It takes everything in me not to say something. Callie may be fine with her childhood, but I’m not. Kids need stability. They need security. Who was protecting this little girl when she needed those things?
“And here behind the heart is a lyre, which is for me. Calliope was the muse of epic poetry and known for her singing.”
“You’ve got your whole family with you, then,” I observe. Why did she put herself behind them in the tattoo?
“Yeah.” Her smile is so full of love that it makes my chest hurt. “They’re both always here. My mom passed away shortly after I turned eighteen. I think she was holding on until I was old enough to be on my own. And so I just kind of keep on with her legacy.”
Her legacy? Her legacy of unreliability? There’s no way your dad would have wanted that for you. “That’s nice,” I lie. “What inspired you to get all these other tattoos?”
Her expression turns more guileful. “Well, after I got this first one, of course, I had to get more.”
“Of course.”
“So the first big city I lived in on my own was Astoria in New York. I had some aunts and uncles there from my dad’s side of the family. I found out that they had been trying to talk to me since he died, but Mom kind of froze them out.”
It’s wrong to want to yell at a dead woman, it’s wrong to want to yell at a dead woman… “Bad blood?”
“No, just too painful for her. But it was so great for me to get time with them and to meet my cousins. They had so many funny stories about my dad and my parents when they’d started dating. And my grandma, my yia-yia , was still alive and tried to throw as many Greek traditions and mythology at me as she possibly could. So I got this tattoo,” she moves her hair and pulls down the collar of her shirt to reveal her shoulder, “for her.” My mouth goes dry just staring at the exposed skin, let alone the ink that’s over it.
My hand moves of its own volition to touch it, and I hear her draw in a quick breath at the contact. “Ourobouros?” My voice is about ten octaves lower now, as I gently follow the snake that’s weaving through flowers before eating its own tail.
“Very impressive, Coach Finnegan.”
“That’s a symbol of destruction,” I point out.
“And rebirth,” she counters. “I added the crocus to the other flowers when I lived in Chicago and saw them blooming through snow. What a cool fucking plant.”
“Wait, you lived in Chicago? When?”
Her eyes turn skyward in thought. “I don’t know, maybe fifteen years ago?”
“I was at UIC fifteen years ago.”
“So we were in the same place at the same time before now?”
“Must be fate,” escapes my lips.
She smiles. “I don’t believe in fate.”
Neither did I. I glide my fingertips behind her neck to massage the back of her head. The sound she lets out makes my dick twitch with renewed determination.
“After Chicago, I moved to LA,” she half-moans. “That’s where I got the small angel on my hip.”
“Show me.”
With agonizing deliberation, she lowers the waistband of her skirt just enough to drive me out of my mind. I shift in my seat so that I can lean across her lap and gently press my lips to the tattoo by her hip bone. I kiss my way across her toned stomach to the other hip, letting her intoxicating scent fill my senses.
Arching her back, she lifts her shirt to expose her breasts, and I hungrily pull her bra down and suck her nipple into my mouth.
“Oh my god, Finn,” she purrs. I feel like a superhuman.
Until there’s a loud knock on the window and she screams. So of course I scream.
“You wanna roll down the window there, lover boy?” booms a voice from outside. A familiar voice. A voice I want to throttle right now.
“What the hell?” I yell as the driver’s side window descends. “Aren’t you the Chief of Police? What are you doing out here like you’re out on patrol?”
Jay glares back at me, flashlight in hand. “Well, technically I’m off duty, but I recognized your car and when I saw it rockin’, I thought I should probably be a-knockin’.”
“I’m so sorry, Officer,” Callie hangs her head.
But I’m indignant. “Don’t apologize! And don’t call him Officer, he’s a di?—”
“I’m trying to save you from the Tit Peepers, you moron,” Jay hisses under his breath. “They claim they’re looking for owls, but we all know that’s bullshit.”
“Ooo!” Callie blurts. “Have they found the black-capped night heron yet? They told me that’s what they’re looking for after sunset.”
Jay just looks at her with sympathy.
“There’s no black-capped night heron, Callie,” I tell her. I feel like I’m telling her there’s no Santa Claus.
“Yes there is, I looked it up!”
Oh, she’s adorable.
“They’re actually really smart,” she continues. “They use literal bait or fish for prey, so it’s amazing to watch with binoculars and…oh my god there’s no black-capped night heron.”
Jay keeps his gaze on us but slightly nods backwards over his shoulder. “Just a friendly warning, you two might want to stay out of ‘sighting range.’” Behind him, I see curtains shut abruptly and I mumble a string of swear words.
Woodcock laughs like an asshole.
“Don’t you have a goat to wrangle?” I snap.
“Oh, I love Winston!” Callie chimes in.
“No, but I have a beautiful wife to sleep with. Inside our home. Our home that doesn’t bounce up and down like it’s in a 90s rap video.”
With that, he steps away to walk back to his car, whistling the whole time.
Callie leans over and calls out my window to him. “Tell Delilah I said hi!” Then she sits back down and sighs. “I miss 90s rap.”
The moment is thoroughly ruined and I’m starting to think it’s fate’s way of telling me I should have stuck to the original plan of keeping Callie at arm’s length.
I rub the back of my neck. “I guess I should?—”
“Can you walk me inside?” she asks. “My ankle hurts.”
When I look at her, her expression tells me that her ankle is not the reason she wants me to help her inside.
“So bad,” she offers dramatically. “I mean…I could handle it on my own, but I was going to take a shower, and I could use some help.”
She’s barely even finished saying “shower” before I’m out and running around the car to open her door for her.
Sorry, fate. She left me no choice. I’m going to have to sex her into wanting to stay.