Chapter 38 #2
The space around us felt separate from the world, insulated by layers of softness and the scent of rain on the windows. Finn’s fingers traced up and down my arm.
“You were incredible today,” I said after a while, my fingers scratching gently against his chest. “When everything started going wrong, you just... knew what to do.”
“That’s the job,” I could hear his smile. “Teaching you to solve problems instead of panic.” He was quiet for a moment, his fingers stilling against my arm. “Except I almost didn’t. Do my job, I mean.”
I lifted my head to look at him, catching the shift in his voice. “What do you mean?”
“My depth perception,” his eyes focused somewhere beyond our pillow walls, “or lack thereof. Makes it harder to judge distances, assess weather patterns properly.” His hand tightened on mine.
“I realized up there that I couldn’t accurately gauge how fast that storm was building, how close those cells really were.
Put you in more danger than I should have. ”
“But you got us home safe,” I settled back against his shoulder.
“This time. But what if next time I can’t tell how bad it really is until it’s too late? You trusted me completely, and I’m not sure I deserved that trust.”
I pressed closer, feeling the tension in his muscles that were too warm. “You did deserve it. You kept me calm, taught me what to do, got us through it when everything went wrong at once. That’s what leaders do. What partners do.”
Lightning flickered again, but the thunder felt muted, manageable. “You know, I’ve been thinking about flight instruction,” I continued. “Not for me, necessarily, but... as something you could do. Teaching.”
Finn was quiet for a long moment. “Been thinking about it too,” he admitted. “But I’m not sure where it fits. Can’t do certified instruction from the air anymore, but ground school, maybe. Systems, weather theory, navigation principles.”
“You’re a natural teacher and leader. The way you explained everything today, kept me focused when I was panicking... that’s a gift.”
“Maybe,” he paused. “I’ve been thinkin’ about going back to school too.
Getting a master’s in aerospace engineering.
VA benefits would cover it, and then I could teach—not just flying, but the engineering side.
Theory, systems, design. Just don’t know where.
In LA...” he trailed off, something uncertain in his tone.
“What about LA?”
“Sometimes I wonder if I belong there. Or anywhere, really,” his fingers resumed their gentle movement along my arm. “Family keeps hinting about the ranch, about my inheritance stake. I’m supposed to let them know how involved I want to be.”
I lifted my head to study his face in the dim space. “What kind of hints?”
“The kind that aren’t really hints,” he smiled wryly. “Like Jack at dinner the other night, assumin’ I was moving back. Saying that Penny and Lucas said it first, which means everyone’s wonderin’.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“I don’t know what I want,” his admission came soft, honest. “Love this place, love my family. But the idea of just... steppin’ back into the life everyone expects me to have, like the last thirteen years didn’t happen.
..” he sighed. “Wyoming feels like home when I’m visiting.
But living here permanently? That feels like goin’ backward. ”
I reached over to trace his tattoo. My fingers followed the lines; over the ridges of the scars it covered as I processed his words. “What does forward look like?”
“Don’t know that either.” He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe teaching flying, maybe school, maybe somethin’ else entirely. But somewhere I can build somethin’ new instead of just pickin’ up where I left off.”
“You could move in with me,” I shrugged, pressing my hand against his arm, covering the ink etched into his skin and squeezing gently.
My words came out casual, like I was suggesting we grab coffee, but my pulse quickened at the implications of what I’d just offered.
Finn went very still. “Alex...”
“I’m serious,” I grew bolder as I shifted to look at him properly.
“You already spend time at my place. And if you wanted to pursue flight instruction, there are plenty of flight schools around Utah. Hell, with your degree and your service record, Hill Air Force Base would probably jump at having you. You could do ground school, work on a master’s, maybe even teach aerospace courses eventually. ”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I’m thinking about it right now,” I admitted.
“You’re talkin’ about me movin’ to Salt Lake. Into your house.”
“I’m talking about you having a place where you can figure out what forward looks like. Your new steady,” I kept my voice light, even though my heart was hammering. “No pressure about the ranch inheritance, no expectations about picking up old patterns. Just... space to build something new.”
He was quiet for so long I started to worry I’d pushed too far, too fast. But then his hand found my hip, fingers curling gently as he pulled me closer.
“You’d want that?” he asked softly. “Me in your space permanently?”
“Finn, you make my space feel more like home than it ever has with just me in it. Besides, practically speaking, it makes sense. You’re already there half the time, and I have the room.”
“Practically speaking,” he repeated, amusement creeping into his voice.
“Well, yes. It’s logical,” I felt heat rise in my cheeks as I thumped him in the chest lightly. “You need somewhere to land, I have space, you’re already settled into my routines anyway. Why not make it official?”
“Is that your brain solving another problem?”
“Maybe,” I grinned. “Is that terrible?”
“It’s perfect,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”
We lay in comfortable silence, the storm continuing outside our pillow fortress while the reality of what I’d just suggested settled in.
Living together officially, not just the casual sleepovers we’d been doing when we were pretending to date.
Finn building a life in Utah, maybe teaching flying, and figuring out who he wanted to become next.
“What about the ranch stake?” I asked after a time. “Your family’s expectations?”
“I have time. The inheritance ain’t goin’ anywhere. I don’t have to decide now just because everyone’s curious.”
I traced over the delicate lines of pigment again with my fingertips. “You could visit regularly, help out when they need it, but have your life be your own.”
“Yeah,” the word came out like relief. “Yeah, maybe I could.”
Lightning flickered again, but the thunder was distant now, the storm moving past us towards the mountains.
“Alex?” He spoke softly in the stillness.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
I pressed a kiss to his collarbone through his shirt. “I love you too.”
“Good,” he whispered, his arm tightening around me as thunder rumbled gently overhead. “Because I’m planning on keeping you safe for a very long time.”