Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Grant
Finn giggles.
It’s one of those things that makes me love him a little bit more every time I hear it because it’s just so ridiculous, but it is ridiculous.
He showed up right after I put the girls to bed, giddily high on life and starlight and apparently a great day.
He wouldn’t even tell me what was so great about it, but he’s practically glowing where he sits in a deck chair a few feet to the left of mine, watching the fire crackling in my stone-lined pit.
He hasn’t stopped grinning since I told him things with Sam are going well. I didn’t even mention we kissed or that she seems like she’s ready to try things out. I just said, “Going well,” and he celebrated like his team won the Super Bowl.
“I’m happy for you, man. You deserve this.” He takes a swig from a bottle of beer he’s nursed for the last twenty minutes.
“Thanks. Though I do need to remind you, it’s early days.” I peer at him and he’s nodding profusely.
“Of course it’s early. But you being willing to try, let alone wanting to, is new. And awesome. And I’m psyched she’s reciprocating.”
His gaze shifts back to the fire and I wonder if he’s thinking of his own unrequited love. I know better than to bring that up right now and kill the mood completely.
“It is new.” I’ve been in a perpetual state of wonder about it, frankly. “It’s been a long time since I even wanted a relationship, let alone felt actual desire for a specific person.”
He absorbs this. “I never asked. But was it Michelle?”
Hearing my ex’s name doesn’t make my heart sink like it used to.
Now, there’s only a residue of regret. For how I asked her to stay, for how she left, and for the legitimate reasons she did.
“I think so—that, and realizing my life was completely different and I needed to figure out what it’s like to be a dad before I worried about being a partner to someone, especially someone new. ”
He nods. “Makes sense.”
The silence is loaded, so I know he’s got more, and sure enough, a few seconds later, he continues.
“I just want to say what she did, leaving you, was really shitty. And I know my perspective doesn’t matter, but I thought it was crap then.
And I’m glad you’re not still broken up about it, because I think you’ve got a lot to give someone.
” His gaze flicks up to meet mine, then skitters back to the flames of the fire like he’s embarrassed.
I lean back, tilting my head against the chair so I can see the stars.
“Your opinion does matter. But for what it’s worth, I don’t blame Michelle.
Not anymore, anyway. If I’d wanted more with her, I should’ve asked long before I did.
I tried to pull her into the moment, and it wasn’t fair. Plus, she wasn’t ready for kids, and—”
“Neither were you.”
“No.” I was about as unprepared as someone could be.
And I faltered. I floundered. “But I’d been an older sibling to you beasts, and I’d at least interacted with Saoirse and Rowan.
And I already loved the girls.” My throat cinches a bit, so I clear it and take a drink of my beer.
“Nothing like now, of course, but I did. I don’t blame her.
She was right to leave. And frankly, her being out of the picture helped lead me back here sooner. ”
His brow stays furrowed so I know it’s a matter of time before he lets his thoughts go. Finn is a terrible liar, and he’s also got very little in the way of circumspection.
“Do you miss it?”
He means military life. He means the work I loved, the unit, the world I lived in where I was capable of changing lives and completing missions with real-world and sometimes international stakes.
“Sometimes. Not as much anymore.” The words coalesce into reality as I say them.
Or maybe I simply recognize how true they are where I’ve only wished they would be otherwise.
“I’ll always miss it in some way, but the sting of leaving is gone.
The girls are thriving here. They’re happy.
They have a full life I never could’ve given them there when all of you are here. ”
“And you?”
A chuckle slides out. “Damn, you’re pushy, aren’t you?”
He flashes a grin. “Someone has to worry about you.”
I give him a look, but his words hit deep. He may seem like a happy-go-lucky youngest child, thrilled with all the attention and bursting with sunshine personality, but he’s got layers. Depth. Pieces to him I bet no one knows, and a well of empathy that is seemingly endless.
My voice is a bit rough when I reply. “For the first year or so, I was here for the girls. But over the last year, it has shifted. Underqualified though I may be, I love my job. And try as I might, I’ve got JV in my blood.”
“And you’ve got a gorgeous neighbor who makes you feel a little funny in your pants, and yeah, probably a few other places.”
My eyes close as though I can block out his statement, and I’m absolutely cringing away from him. He’s giggling.
So forget what I said about layers and depth. Strike it.
“You know, like you get kind of excited, and—” His chair screeches a bit and I open my eyes just in time to see him shoot to his feet. “Hey, Sam. Good to see you!”
He’s beaming, eyes wide, and giving me the dopiest look I’ve ever seen, which is saying something.
“Hey, Finn.” Her dark gaze shifts to mine. “Hi, Grant.”
The softness in her voice when she says my name hits right between my ribs, burrowing deep.
“Sam.” I don’t say “it’s good to see you,” or “I’m so glad you came by” because those would be gross understatements.
“Well, perfect timing. You can keep this old bear company now, and I can jet.” Finn jogs to the back door like he can’t get gone fast enough. “I’ll grab my stuff inside and leave out the front. See you later, kids.”
He shuts the door behind himself and then sticks his meaty fist between the blinds of the window next to the door and gives me a thumbs-up. I don’t know if he meant it to be stealthy, but Sam chuckles as she watches him extricate his hand gracelessly.
“He’s…” She shakes her head, a small smile on her beautiful face as she turns toward the fire and takes a seat in the chair next to me, rather than the one Finn just vacated.
“He’s something.” I sigh, though I’m playing it up a bit.
“He’s sweet. And a little wild. And he seems like a great brother.”
“All true.” I like her answer so much, it’s stupid.
It’s emblematic of how I feel about her, no doubt.
I hold out a hand, and she slips hers into it without a moment’s hesitation. Then I tug, catching her eyes. “Come here.”
She bites her lip but rises, coming to stand between my legs.
“Have a seat.”
Her eyes dart down to my lap, then jump back up. Her lips part, but she bites the bottom one again. She’s not sure if I mean on me, and she’s nervous.
I nod. “Anywhere you want.”
When she dips her chin, I add a touch more pull toward me, and then, she settles her knees on either side of my hips, her bottom seated on my thighs.
I guide the hand I’ve been holding up to press a kiss into her wrist, then rest her hand on my shoulder.
She takes the signal and raises her opposite hand on the other side.
She’s so tentative, and I want her comfortable. I want her weight on me, every ounce of her. I’m hungry for it.
My hands find her waist, and I slide her closer, almost force her down so her thighs are no longer lightly holding her above me.
“If you’re good, I’m good.” I won’t have her worrying, and I won’t have her stay here if she’s not comfortable.
“I’m good.” Her shoulders relax, and her thumbs graze along my neck.
“How was your movie night?” Look at me, completely casual and not slowly burning from the inside out from having her this close.
“Good. Love that Mr. Darcy.”
One of her hands threads into the hair at the back of my neck.
“Not Bingley?” She named her cat after the guy. “All sunshine and cheeriness. Has it bad for Jane but too scared to say it?”
Interest flickers across her face. “He’s the sidekick. I like him because he’s straightforward, and I thought it might be weird to name my cat after my favorite romantic lead.”
One of my hands slides around to her back under her jacket. It takes all of my self-control not to urge her even closer. “So Darcy then. Guardian to a young girl. Fairly surly.”
She tips her head closer, her lips now a scant few inches from mine. “From a rich family. Judgy at first, problematically protective of the people he loves, then unmistakably kind and self-sacrificing.”
“Sounds unbearable.”
We share a breath, eyes locked together in the way we always end up, and then she moves as she speaks.
“I promise you it’s not.”
Then her lips are on mine. Thrill and pure need shoot up my spine when she deepens the kiss within seconds of starting it, her desire for me evident in the way she’s pulling at my shoulders to get closer.
And then we are—bodies pressed, kisses fire, hips rocking even as the chill of the night nips at the edges of our frame.
But it’s all heat between us, soft moans and yes and more, until we’re both out of our minds and a sharp pop from the fire has me coming back to earth and realizing the girls could come out and see us any moment.
It’s been a while since Poppy’s last nightmare, but you never know.
I pull back and she blinks open her eyes. There’s a beat.
Will she regret even this? The second encounter since she said she wanted to try with me? It’s not exactly a steak dinner out here, and I hope I haven’t made her feel anything but lovely and desirable.
Her face splits into a grin—not even a simple smile, but a full-out grin—and my heart flies.
I’m in awe, and though still wound up, I gather her to me, resting her head on my shoulder and hugging her close.
“Thank you for coming to see me tonight.” I’m not sure why I whisper it, but the night feels quiet and I don’t want it to break.
She pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. “I think I’d end every day just like this if I could.” Then she rests against me again, and I shut my eyes and absorb the words.
It’s simple to respond with the truth, and so I do. Even if it feels like I’m voicing something impossible, something so like a dream I can’t possibly ever have it.
“Me, too.”