Chapter 20 #2
Molly appeared with towels in her arms, dropping one on the floor to sop up the small puddles forming around her.
Buttons undone, Rose removed her jacket, forgetting about her injured arm. She winced as it slipped the rest of the way off her shoulders. Finn took hold of the jacket and hung it beside his own on the wrought iron coat rack by the door.
Molly handed her a towel. With one hand, Rose rubbed it on her saturated jeans. It surprised her how much water the towel took in. She was lucky she’d had the sense to wear thick wool socks. Snug within her rain boots, her feet were the only part of her that felt warm and dry.
When she straightened back up, she met Finn’s gaze. His eyes held concern and something new. That small warmth inside her twisted into an ache. She licked her lips.
His fingers came up and smoothed back the rogue wet strands of her hair as if he’d done it a million times. She couldn’t look away.
Shirley came out of a door with a blanket and cleared her throat. Her eyes flicked back and forth between them. Finn stepped back as she put it on Rose’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Shirley.” Rose pulled the blanket around her as best as she could with one hand. It felt warm, as if it had been hung in front of a fire.
She smiled, her expression still darting between them. “That’s better. Take a seat by the fire. Molly will make you something hot to drink. Usual mocha with almond milk?”
“A mocha would be great. Let me get my wallet.” She snaked her hand into her bag, still hanging across her body.
Shirley pressed her hands on Rose’s shoulders and turned her toward the fire. “Have a seat. Free drinks for everyone needing shelter from the storm. Go on now. Your grandmother would want us to take care of you.”
Finn put a hand on the small of her back. “Let’s get you warm.” He urged her to take the seat he’d occupied, closest to the fire, the one she considered hers.
Rose sank into the chair. Finn crouched down in front of her and tucked the blanket around her.
The smell of rain and forest filled her nose.
She held back a groan. In all this time, his scent hadn’t changed.
How did he do it? Even when he’d worked in the garage as a teenager, beneath the smell of grease and oil, he smelled of the woods.
“Better?” He sat down in the other chair and scooted it close to her, their knees almost touching. A wisp of a smile played on his face as if he found something funny.
Molly appeared with a steaming mug. “Guessing you two know each other?”
Finn said, “We grew up together.”
Rose accepted the mug. Her fingers wrapped around its warm sides. “Thank you, Molly. Your red sign saved me.”
She smiled, perched herself on the arm of another nearby cozy chair. “Got waylaid by Mr. Hanover, I heard.”
“Forty minutes to buy batteries and leave.” Rose took a sip and almost closed her eyes. Perfect.
“Cat story?” Molly asked.
She sat up a little straighter. If she ignored the clamminess of her legs, she felt almost warm. “How did you know?”
“Last week, we bought lamp oil. It took us forty-five minutes to escape.”
“That cat is scary.”
“Can you believe he found it like that?” Molly shook her head as if in disapproval. “What kind of person sets a cat on fire? It’s amazing the thing survived.”
Finn leaned forward, his expression one of concern.
Rose sipped more. “Is his wife still around? I didn’t see her like I usually do.”
“Her health is poor. She’s in that old nursing home near the church.”
“Caring Hands?”
Molly nodded.
Rose shook her head. “Magnolia never liked that place, complained about the conditions more than once. She had friends there.”
“I gather they had no choice.”
Finn said, “I heard that place is bad. Pa decided on Wylder Ridge.”
His pa was in a retirement community? He hadn’t mentioned that. Not like they’d had much resembling normal conversation yet.
“I’m sorry, Finn, I didn’t know. Is he okay?” She resisted the temptation to reach out. Her hands stayed where they were.
He shrugged. “Broke his hip awhile ago. He spent a few weeks there. A few months back, he decided he wanted to make it permanent. It’s more independent than Caring Hands—small apartments with kitchenettes, medical staff on hand if needed. He gets to play cards everyday.”
She tilted her head; the image of Charlie Murphy’s jovial face came to mind. “I remember he loves cards. Still, I’m sorry.”
Her fingers pressed harder against the outside of her mug. His eyes, his voice, made her remember how close they’d once been.
It had been almost six years since their argument over her engagement to Caleb Brentwood, at her family’s annual New Year’s Eve party. She hadn’t needed anyone telling her who she should and shouldn’t marry. Least of all, Finn. She’d lost her closest friend that night.
If only Finn had apologized. In-person, a phone call, even a freaking postcard with SORRY would have worked.
She would have given him hell for the single word, but she would have accepted it.
They’d never had an argument they hadn’t talked through afterward.
Instead, Finn had disappeared from her life.
Was it too late to hope for words of apology now?
Hail pelted the front windows, loud enough to hear over the crackling fire.
Finn’s knee bounced a little. It meant only one thing. This was awkward for him too.
“They’re saying one to two inches tonight.” Shirley voiced from behind the counter. “Molly, we need to prepare for closing.”
Molly glanced at her watch. Then jumped up. “Gotta help Mom. Hope we don’t lose power.”
Finn said, “Hell of a mess out there. I wonder if there’ll be flooding.”
Great. The weather had taken over the conversation. A bold underline as to how weird things were between them. Was she supposed to respond with her opinion of the storm?
She didn’t want to. She’d rather watch him.
It served as a pleasurable distraction from the damp jeans on her legs, the ache in her arm.
His neck and collarbone fascinated her in a way they hadn’t when she’d been a teenager.
Her face had been against that very spot when he’d held her while she cried after the funeral.
It had felt warm on her tear-washed face.
She hadn’t wanted to move away. Even in grief, she’d wanted to press her lips into his warmth, against his skin.
His voice broke into her thoughts, low and still cozy.
“Finish your coffee, then I’ll drive you home.”
She nodded, trying to stifle the thoughts she shouldn’t be having about the man who once claimed the role of best friend .