10. Finn
Chapter 10
Finn might be tempting fate by taking Jaime to the place where they were meant to meet last year, but today was not going at all how he imagined it would.
So, fuck it. They were going to Andi’s.
He hadn’t planned on telling Jaime about Renner, or about his past struggles. He’d debated it over and over in his head for the past few days as he watched Jaime retreat into himself, and couldn’t decide how to bring him back. They’d occupied space near each other, but hadn’t really engaged since that first night at the dinner table.
He’d been ashamed of his response the next morning.
Of course, Jaime hadn’t hurled that word at him in disgust or accusation. Bishop was a monster. He’d traumatized Jaime deeply, and Finn had made that about himself and his own insecurities. He knew that his response in the moment hadn’t been the right one, but as he watched Jaime become more and more closed off over the next few days he couldn’t decide whether he should try and make things better with him.
Because the truth was, regardless of insecurities and intentions and misunderstandings, Finn was also a monster, and he didn’t want to bring Jaime even further into the danger he’d inadvertently walked into last spring.
A world he would run from as fast and far as he could, if he knew even half of the truth.
So, Finn did his best to stay professional—distant. That is, until he could smell Jaime reading one of those goddamn books all the way from the kitchen and found himself drawn in like a moth to a flame, that tug on his heart pulling him into the living room without realizing he’d even stood up from the table.
Scenting Jaime’s arousal was overwhelming and unbearable—entirely too much, and never enough—and if they didn’t get out of the house for a breath of fresh air soon, he’d do something rash, like beg on his knees for Jaime to marry him. Or maybe just to let Finn suck his cock.
He’d take either one.
Of course he knew that Jaime was reading romance books. The first time he’d smelled his arousal he’d nearly tripped down the stairs in his haste to see who’d breached the security alarms; who’d dared intrude on their space to make Jaime’s scent heavy with desire and want, when Finn needed to be the one to make him feel that way.
He’d rounded the corner only to find Jaime splayed across the couch, a blanket casually draped across his lap, eyes glued to his e-reader. The light flush across the tops of his cheeks had told Finn enough—the boy was reading smut.
The realization nearly brought him to his knees.
Oh, but what if he could get Jaime to tell him about his favorite scenes whenever he finished a book? Maybe even explore them together? They could take a hot bath while he read, Finn’s chin tucked over his shoulder and teasing Jaime with light touches and gentle strokes until he was panting in his arms and begging Finn to have his way with him. He’d figure out which books were Jaime’s favorites, and read them himself so he’d know exactly what he liked, what he wanted to try…
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Finn surfaced from that hazy daydream, a warm blast of air on his face shocking him back to reality as they walked into the restaurant.
He smiled wide at the voice, and saw Andi striding through the swinging kitchen door, her tight, coiled curls braided in a protective style away from her face and whatever magical concoctions she’d cooked up in that kitchen. She’d dyed her hair again since he last saw her, now a bright teal against her medium tawny skin and dark freckles.
Silas and Finn had stumbled upon Andi’s a few years ago when she’d first opened. The eatery used to be an old auto shop that she’d outfitted into a dining room, kitchen, and turned the bay above the garage into an apartment.
Sensing that they were paranormals like her, she’d introduced herself as a hearth witch, and said she moved to Alaska from somewhere in the lower forty-eight to get a new start in life. They knew better than to ask questions; unless you happened to be born in the area, most paranormals ended up in Silver Rapids via a story they’d rather not have made its way through the rumor mill.
Finn wasn’t entirely sure what powers a hearth witch (or house witch, as some chose to be called) could wield, but he did know she made the best food he’d ever eaten—it was supernaturally good.
Since that first time they’d dined there—when her shrimp and grits changed his goddamn life—Silas and Finn ate at Andi’s at least three times a week, and he’d pestered her until she had shared some of her recipes and techniques with him. The ones that didn’t require magic, anyway. They’d become good friends.
“It’s been, what, a whole week since you were here last? I was starting to think I needed to call a welfare check on you!” she said with a laugh. “Good to see you back and in one piece.” Her smile turned softer when she looked toward Jaime.
Finn tipped his chin down toward him. “I should be embarrassed about how much I eat here, but the food is so damn good it’s just a waste of time to try anywhere else. And when I can convince her to tell me her culinary secrets, it makes the incessant ribbing she gives me worth it.”
She cackled. “I only tell you enough to get you out of my kitchen and to keep the giant one fed when I’m closed. Speaking of, I’m glad to see you brought someone else here with you, and not just that oafish brother of yours. I’m Andi.” She stuck her hand out toward Jaime and he shook it, his face briefly scrunching up before going lax.
He smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I’m Jaime. It’s nice to meet you. And I can’t wait to try whatever smells so delicious in here.”
She ushered them toward the back and into Finn and Silas’s usual booth. The booth that he had sat in for over two hours last year, waiting for Jaime to arrive.
Seeing Jaime now, seated across from him and anxiously fussing with the silverware, Finn could only stare for a moment. It almost felt like some part of him had been stuck in this booth all year, waiting.
And now that he was here, now that they were here together, the part of him that had stood still shifted, and stretched.
It felt like waking up.
The whole front of the restaurant was artfully divided by partitions and screens for privacy, draped in twinkle lights and greenery. The lighting was soft, but not so low that you couldn’t comfortably see the food in front of you, or your dining partner. This time of year, with spring’s earliest blooms just beginning to push through the snow, she’d added pops of pink and purple in the usual ivy and garland. Dean Martin and Ella Fitzgerald were softly crooning through the speakers.
It was the coziest place Finn had ever seen aside from Jaime’s cabin, and he adored it here.
Finn sat facing the exit, because as quiet and uneventful as the past few days had been, and no matter how familiar Andi’s was, he couldn’t let his guard down when they were out and about.
Andi didn’t bother giving them menus. “I’ve got a pot of chicken lentil soup on with hot honey and jalape?o cornbread, fresh butternut squash ravioli, short ribs coming out of the oven in ten minutes that I can put over mashed potatoes, and a vegetable salad with an olive oil and dill dressing.”
Heaven.
He finally looked up from Jaime’s face. “We’ll take one of everything you just said, for the table. And a couple of waters. Oh, and your peach tea for me, please. Jaime, do you like peach tea? Also, do you have any of those cinnamon butter dinner rolls? No, don’t give me that look, I know you keep some ready to bake for when we come in. Jaime? Anything else you’d like to order?”
The younger man was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. “I’ll try the peach tea, too, please. Nothing else for me, thanks.” Still looking stunned, he brushed a stray auburn curl out of his eyes.
They sat in silence while Andi got their waters and tea, and then disappeared back into the kitchen. There were a few other couples in the restaurant, but the quiet atmosphere made their little corner seem private and cozy. Finn couldn’t help but admire the way Jaime’s eyes shone in the soft glow of the twinkle lights strung above them.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard you talk that much,” Jaime said, still fiddling with his napkin and silverware, voice hushed in the quiet.
It was Finn’s turn to blush. “I like cooking and talking about food, and Andi has always welcomed me when I’ve pestered her about her recipes. She’s taught me how to make pretty much everything I’ve made for you this week. Everything I can make that tastes good, anyway.”
Jaime nodded, but was still fidgeting with the napkin.
Maybe he was nervous to be out in public after everything that had happened? They’d gotten a few glances from people on the street as they parked and walked inside, but no one had followed them. Finn knew there’d be less of that in Silver Rapids than in Monroe.
Or, maybe Jaime didn’t like that Finn had brought him here, of all places. Maybe it was too much of a reminder of that night? Suddenly anxious, Finn asked, “Should I have brought you here? Or are you worried?—”
“Silas is your brother?” Jamie blurted out, interrupting his question.
He looked wide-eyed, like he’d startled himself with the outburst. “I just, you never mentioned before that you had a brother. So I didn’t think, I mean, I thought you two were, well. Not brothers.” He blushed, the tips of his ears going pink, and Finn very much wanted to nibble them, just there.
Instead, he smiled and tipped his head in a yes and no gesture. “Not by blood, but in all the ways that matter, yes. He’s the friend I told you about, the one I grew up with. We met in the 6th grade and became nearly inseparable. We’ve called each other brothers ever since; followed each other into the military and then moved in together once we were out and joined up with Sheppard at the security firm. ”
In those early days of their friendship, they had claimed each other in some intrinsic way. Not in the way that Finn longed to claim a mate now—longed to claim Jaime, now—no, they’d known as teenagers that they weren’t who each other wanted.
They hadn’t smelled like they belonged together as mates or lovers, but as brothers—to Finn, Silas smelled like trust, and relaxed ears, and puppy-piling on each other after a long run through the woods.
He smelled like pack.
Jaime was blinking fast and looked scandalized. He stage-whispered, “But…I thought you were in love with each other! I thought you were a couple!”
Finn swallowed his drink of water wrong and choked, coughing and spluttering until he could get a breath.
Thankfully, Andi showed up just then with their plates and plates of food, giving him a few moments to collect himself. They’d have leftovers for at least a day or so, which was good, because Finn was running out of impressive meals to make Jaime. He didn’t want to dip into his repertoire of meh dinners just yet.
Not until he’d shown Jaime just how impressive he could be in other ways, first. That is, if he ever let Finn touch him, after apparently thinking that he was in love with Silas. How absolutely fucking bizarre.
Once Andi refilled their water glasses and left, smirking at the two of them and wishing them a happy meal, he leaned over toward Jaime. Lowly, he asked, “What the fuck gave you the impression that I was in love with Silas?”
“You did!” Jaime was gesturing wildly now, ignoring the food steaming between them and voice pitching higher and higher, all attempts to stay quiet forgotten. “I heard you that first day, in my guest room! He told you that he loves you! He called you Finny! You said you felt the same way about him!”
It was Finn’s turn to stare at Jaime like he’d just sprouted three heads.
Jesus Christ.
A slow smile spread across his face, wide and true and aching, and then he burst into laughter; deep, full, head thrown back, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, laughter.
Jaime’s face pinched into a pout, and he made the most adorable little huff sound, which only made Finn laugh even harder.
Finally, he calmed down enough to speak. “Don’t give me that face, baby. It’s a damned weapon and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
Jaime scowled even harder, blushing at the endearment.
Interesting.
Still sputtering with laughter, Finn calmed down enough to explain. “Of course I love him, he’s my brother. And he’s called me Finny since we were kids. Your case, the people involved, it’s…” he shook his head, sobering more. “He’s usually the one on point with a client, not me. But for reasons that are his to disclose, it’s better that he stays in the background as much as possible. In your guest room, he was telling me to be careful. That’s all.”
Jaime blinked at him, owlish eyes wide and mossy and stunned. “Oh.”
Is that what he would look like staring up at me from his knees, sucking on my cock?
Finn croaked out, “Oh?”
Jaime made that pouting face again. “Yes. Oh.”
He chuckled, and picked up his fork. Finn tried, and failed, to shake off the image of Jaime, spit-messy and fucked-out, swallowing his cock. But, subtly, quietly, he felt a shift between them, in their dynamic, and he wondered…
“Can I ask you something?”
Jaime continued to blink at him, but nodded.
“First, eat,” Finn said firmly, pointing with his fork at the food before them. Jaime blushed again. Didn’t he have a similar reaction this morning when Finn had used the same tone with him? He’d chalked it up to all of the romance novels Jaime had been reading, but maybe Jaime enjoyed it when Finn told him what to do? Gave him orders?
His hand clutched the edge of the table, canines threatening to descend.
Focus. You are in public. You can’t jump the boy in the middle of the goddamn restaurant.
His wolf prowled at the image that conjured.
Jaime squirmed in his seat at Finn’s directive, but picked up his fork and stabbed at a ravioli. And fuck, the moan that came out of his mouth upon tasting the food made Finn hard as granite, length stiffening down the leg of his jeans.
Andi is giving me that butternut squash ravioli recipe before we leave, or I’ll piss in her yard for a week.
Finn cleared his throat and dug into his own plate of short ribs. “Is that why you’ve been distant with me since the first day I was here? You thought I was with someone else? I know before, we were—” He cut himself off, unsure how to describe what they had almost been.
Jaime was quiet for a beat, sipping on the lentil soup. “Yes. Kind of.” Still not looking at Finn, he set his spoon down and took a drink of water. “I’m not that same man you met a year ago, Finn. I can’t laugh the way I used to, or meet an attractive stranger online and strike up a conversation with him. I can’t be him, anymore.”
The grief in his voice cut Finn to the bone.
“It made sense that you would be with someone strong and confident, like Silas. I can’t be that. And I don’t want to be someone you need to worry about. Stress over. Manage. I can’t be work, for you.”
A million things sprung to the tip of his tongue. Did Jaime really think that Finn would consider being with him a burden? Did he really think that Finn would only want something shallow and surface deep with him? Did he believe that Finn wouldn’t want him because he had experienced something awful, and was working through it?
“Look at me.”
The air thickened between them when Jaime did as he was told, everyone and everything else fading away. That tug on Finn’s heart grew stronger, humming. “You are not now, nor have you ever been, a burden.”
His voice was a quiet rumble, and he itched to reach across the table to hold Jaime’s hand. “You are strong and resilient, and just because this hasn’t been easy for you, that does not mean you are weak.”
Jaime’s eyes cast downward, and then Finn did reach across the table for his hand, gently pulling until he looked up. “You are allowed to let yourself respond to what has happened to you. And just because you can’t find those old parts of you now, that doesn’t mean they’ve left you. They can still be a part of you again, someday, if you want them. They might look a little different, that’s all.”
Jaime’s voice was small in the hushed quiet between them. “What if I can’t ever get them back?”
“Then you’ll find new things that make you who you are. New things to love,” Finn said.
Jaime’s face fell, and Finn couldn’t help but go on. “A year ago, you were a beautiful man that I saw on a dating app and wanted to know, but never got the chance.” Jaime tried to tug his hand away, but Finn held on. “Today, I have that chance. And I will not let that chance go again, Jaime. You are still a beautiful man that I want to know more about, but that is because of who you are now, sitting in front of me. Not some imaginary, alternate, better version of yourself. This one, here. This is the real you. Please don’t diminish that.”
The hope brimming in Jaime’s eyes nearly broke him, and he nodded in agreement, blinking away tears. “Okay.”
Finn gently squeezed Jaime’s hand and let go, picking up his fork. They shared a few moments of comfortable silence, eyes catching in the intimacy of their private little booth.
“So, this is Andi’s.” Jaime looked around, like he was finally relaxed enough to do so. “It’s the perfect spot for a first date. Good choice.”
His face turned grave, and words began to tumble from him. “I’m sorry. For ghosting you, for not explaining. I should have. I wish I had. But I was such a mess after everything happened, I couldn’t handle anything other than reminding myself that I wasn’t in that closet anymore. And then weeks went by and you didn’t reach out, and I thought that was probably for the best because I was still so fucked up over everything, and?—”
“Jaime.”
He stopped, breathing quickly, and Finn wanted to hug him.
He’s vulnerable.
Hold him.
Finn took a steadying breath. “You don’t owe me an apology, or an explanation. I hate what happened to you. I hate it. I wish I could have done something. But we can’t go back, either of us. And so I’m just… I’m glad we’re here now. I’m really fucking glad you’re sitting across from me right now.”
Jaime nodded, eyes glassy and warm. “I’m very glad to be sitting across from you right now too, Finn.”
They finished their meal in comfortable silence, legs brushing up against each other under the table until they both stopped pretending that it was an accident. Electricity shot through Finn where they stayed pressed together, a long line of shared heat.
Eventually he sat back, groaning at how full he was. Jaime mirrored him, complementing the food they had just shared and patting his belly. Finn had to look away, or else he’d never be able to stand without showing everyone in the building the raging erection he’d been trying, and failing, to tame.
Andi swung by with some boxes, and Finn grabbed the check before Jaime could as they got up and left, waving goodbye and saying they’d be back soon.
Finn ushered Jaime back to the truck with a hand on his lower back. It may have been his imagination, but he seemed to relax more into the touch than he had before. Swinging open the passenger door, Finn cast a quick glance around to make sure no one had followed them out of the restaurant before crowding Jaime inside the vehicle, putting an arm up to box him in.
But instead of stepping up into the truck, Jaime turned to face him—and Finn realized just how close they were in that moment. Jaime’s head was tipped back to meet his eyes, exposing the long length of his neck, and he barely resisted the urge to run his lips and tongue and teeth along it.
Softly, Jaime said, “Can I ask you something now, too?”
Finn didn’t move his arm or step away. “Of course.”
Jaime fidgeted a bit with the hem of his henley, shyly glancing down to Finn’s chest and back up. He swore he could feel the pull of that stare, like a magnet drawing them together.
“You said Silas is usually the one to stay with clients, but this time he couldn’t. Is that the only reason why you’re the one here with me? To protect him from whatever he can’t be involved with?”
Finn raised his eyebrows, unsure how to answer that. It certainly was not the only reason—it hadn’t even been the first reason—but Finn didn’t want to spook Jaime with the full truth just yet. There were still so many things to consider before Finn allowed himself to be more open with him, about the level of danger he was in with the Salt Creek pack and everything else that Finn was.
So he gave Jaime some of the truth, fangs threatening to descend from the closeness between them, from breathing in his sweet lemon and vanilla scent. “No, that is not the only reason.”
Finn took a step closer, and Jaime did not retreat. “When the news broke, I recognized who you were immediately. I wanted to make sure you were ok. I know that you did not invite me back into your life, Jaime. And I respected that for a whole fucking year. But when the contract came through, and I had a real, legitimate chance to see you, I couldn’t stay away. I just couldn’t. And if that’s all you want this to be, me, hired to keep you safe while you prepare to testify in court, I’ll try to respect that too.”
He cupped Jaime’s face, eyes flicking back and forth to gauge his reaction. “But I told you the truth in there. I want more, with you. If that’s something you want, too.”
Jaime’s hands grasped Finn’s sides, fingers tangling in the fabric of his sweater as he gently pulled him closer. “Yes, Finn.”
Almost. Finn almost kissed him, when he saw Jaime’s green eyes go hazy and soft, darting down to his mouth and back up, their lips the barest brush against each other. But the sound of loud voices cut through the moment as a group of deer shifters strode by, bringing Finn back to the world and reminding him of their surroundings.
Fuck, they couldn’t afford to lose focus in public like that.
Sensing Finn’s train of thought, Jaime let go of him and turned, hopping up into the passenger seat. He swung the door shut behind him, and as he walked around the truck to the driver’s side, Finn tried to find the scraps of his remaining self control, because even the barest brush of Jaime’s lips against his had unraveled him completely.