17. Finn #2
The words stagnated in my throat. Telling other people about the struggles with my mother was hard enough, but talking about my dad…
That just didn’t happen. But the way Sierra was looking at me now, eyes wide, her good intentions clear, it was like nothing in the world was more important to her at that moment.
I cleared my throat, staring down at the photo. “My brothers and I found this one picture of our mom and dad together. It was in an old box of trinkets we stumbled upon as kids. We looked for more but could never find anything.”
In the photo, they were seated on a stone bench in a sculpture garden, Mom’s head on Dad’s shoulder. “He ditched when we were really young, and my mom didn’t take it well.”
Sierra frowned. “She, uh…It sent her into a major depressive episode. And she’s spent most of her life since then trying to climb out of it. So I always assumed she hid everything else about my dad away or destroyed it.”
“I’m sorry,” Sierra said, her lips stretching into a thin line .
I shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even remember the man. If it weren’t for this picture, I doubt I’d even remember what he looked like.”
“They look happy together,” she said softly.
I’d noticed that too, which was maybe the reason I’d held onto the photo all these years.
That and the fact that I looked more like my dad than my brothers did.
Liam and Connor shared some of my mom’s softer features.
But I shared Dad’s dark hair, hazel eyes, that same sharp jaw, the same prominent nose.
I’d always wondered if my mother saw him when she looked at me. And I’d vowed to be a better man than that deadbeat. To show the world the best version of myself: perfection, success. To be everything he wasn’t.
Sierra examined the photo closer. “These sculptures remind me of yours…only bigger.”
She handed me the frame. “My mother never answered any questions about this photo, but for this one moment in time, they looked so damn happy together. I guess when I first started sculpting, I wanted to capture a bit of that moment—that joy. But it obviously didn’t last.” It was an imperfect relationship, just like my imperfect sculptures.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Sierra said.
I placed the frame back on the shelf. “It’s history now.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t carry it with us,” she said. “Even when it’s not all our own history.”
I resisted the urge to reach out and tuck those stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Sort of sounds like you’re speaking from experience. Are your parents… ”
“Oh, my dad left long before I was born,” she said.
“Growing up, it was just me and my mom—and whichever guy she’d decided was the love of her life at the moment.
My mom…Well, she’s a die-hard romantic. I’ve watched her go through her share of crappy relationships over the years.
I’d like to say I learned a thing or two from all those experiences and did better for myself. But…”
“Trey,” I said, thinking of the douchebag who had broken her heart and then indirectly mocked her on social media. It bothered me more than it should have.
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“How long ago was that?” I asked. Was she still processing the end of that relationship? Did she still have feelings for the guy?
“A few months now,” she said. “It’s not like it was a grand romance for the ages or anything. Honestly, I don’t even miss him. But when you date someone for six months, you sort of start to feel like it’s going somewhere.” She laughed humorlessly.
“After watching my mother go through it over and over again, I should really be better at noticing all these red flags. But she’s engaged now, so I guess sometimes it does work out. Some people do get the Hollywood ending, complete with violins swelling for that big, final kiss.”
“Not us, though,” I said, the words slipping out in spite of myself.
She looked confused. “What?”
Damn. I hadn’t meant to bring that up. Yes, she’d gone off script a little by turning our scripted lip-lock into a cheek kiss, but if Jillian didn’t have an issue with it, then it wasn’t a problem. And if Sierra didn’t want to kiss me, that was her business.
“Just…our kiss today wasn’t exactly a showstopper. That’s all. ”
Her eyes widened. “It just…didn’t feel right like that for the first time,” she said, stumbling over the words. “It felt like the sort of thing that should happen when we’re alone.”
Did that mean she did want to kiss me? Or did she think she had to?
“Don’t worry about it,” I tried to reassure her.
“No, I…it’s what I agreed to.”
I couldn’t help smirking a little. “Are you saying you want to kiss me?”
She scowled. “I’m just saying that if we are going to kiss, the first time at least should be when it’s just the two of us, so we can figure it out without an audience.”
“What, like now?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said, her voice small. She wouldn’t look at me.
“Maybe?” I asked, reaching out and tipping her chin up.
Her gaze locked with mine. “Yes,” she breathed.
I didn’t waste another second. I reached out with my other hand, cradled her face, and pressed our lips together.
I heard her inhale even as the blood rushed by my ears.
It was a soft kiss. A chaste kiss. But her lips were warm and pliant under mine, and my body reacted, desire building in my veins.
It took everything inside me to pull back.
“See,” I said, clearing my throat. “Short and sweet. No big deal.”
“No big deal,” she agreed, her eyes still closed.
Her breath was sweet against my face, and I couldn’t help myself. I ghosted my lips over hers again, teasing us both. I knew I should have stepped away, but she responded surprisingly eagerly, her lips chasing mine .
I tilted my head and deepened the kiss, drinking her in like a fine wine. Every breath, every sound. My hand slipped into her hair, holding the back of her neck, and when she broke away this time, she blinked up at me, dazed.
Slowly, the magic faded, and she stumbled back. “That’s great,” she choked out. “I think we got it down.”
“Right,” I said, trying to claw through the haze of lust back to rational thought. “Well, anyway, there’s a perfect table in here for you to work at if you want.”
My mind spun even as I said the words. I’d never invited anyone into this room before, but I realized I wanted to now. I wanted to share this space with her, and that idea surprised me even more than the intensity of the kiss.
“Thanks,” Sierra said. “I, uh…yeah…maybe I will.” But instead of stopping to work, she snatched the corset from where she’d left it and walked right out the door.