Chapter 38 Finn
FINN
BEING SET UP IS LIKE A GAME MISCONDUCT
Offside A player crosses the opponent's blue line before the puck—illegal play. This is when I cross a line with Kate…
I received a text. Tess is asking to clear the air, and in light of how she’s treated Kate, I agree because I think I can get her to move on. And when she does, she’ll meet someone new and leave us alone.
And true to her word, she is waiting at our old spot, the same little corner café downtown, the one we used to go to on Maine Street. Mikael’s wife owns it, and I should have known better than to agree to meet with my ex in a place where someone might recognize me.
But on the other hand, I’m not trying to hide our meeting.
She’s sitting there, playing with the straw in her frappe, and as always, her perfume hits me long before I’m within speaking distance. I see the malicious glint in her eyes, and I know—I shouldn’t have come. But I did, and it’s too late to back out now.
Since Tess’s best friend is married to a fellow player, there are going to be times we cross paths. I can’t ban her from games or group hangouts. I have no way of knowing where she might pop up.
“Tess,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her. I already regret this. But when she said she was having a breakdown, I felt obligated. “Make this quick.”
Her smile doesn’t touch her eyes. “No hello? No ‘how’ve you been’? I thought we were better than that.”
“We aren’t.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear—the way she always does when she’s about to spin something. “Then why did you come?”
Because I thought if I met with her, she’d leave Kate alone. This was supposed to be a preemptive strike. Drawing a line in the sand. But if Kate ever finds out I’m here, she might not understand.
“I came to say—whatever this is, whatever you’re hoping for—it’s not happening,” I tell her. “I’m married now.”
She laughs softly. “You? Married? You can barely commit to a gym membership.”
I don’t laugh. “It’s real. I’m in love with my wife, Tess. I was hoping you’d move on and leave us alone. No more lies to the press. No more bathroom banter to hurt Kate.” I add, just to drive it home, “Or anything else meant to make her feel like she doesn’t belong.”
“Is it real?” she asks, eyes locking onto mine.
“Because from where I’m standing, your marriage in Vegas—with an Elvis impersonator, no less—looks like a joke.
Y’know Ben and JLo did the Vegas thing too.
You know why? Because they knew it was a mistake.
Both of you men jumped the gun, Finn. You can’t be serious about her.
You knew her for a few hours, for Pete’s sake. ”
Then she leans across the table, boobs practically on display, voice dropping low.
“You know, you’re right—I don’t know her. But your face in those photos?” She inches even closer. “That look in your eyes? I used to think it was love. But it’s just you... being lonely.”
“You don’t know anything about Kate. Or me,” I snap. “You and I ended a long time ago. You need to stop obsessing over me.”
I push my chair back. “And for the record? You never knew me very well.”
Tess stands. She steps in close—too close. “You once told me you didn’t know what it meant to love someone. Remember that?”
I do. I said it over a year ago, standing on the rooftop of a club in Coconut Grove. I wasn’t drunk, but I knew then she wasn’t the one.
I open my mouth—to deny it, explain it, something—but then she touches my arm. Light. Familiar. Wrong.
And then she leans in and kisses me.
That’s when I see the flash—like lightning. Quick, but unmistakable.
I’ve been in the game long enough to know when I’ve been set up.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Tess, did you—”
“No,” she blurts, stepping back like I burned her. But she knew exactly when the camera would go off.
“I didn’t call anyone. But someone saw us,” she says with a snicker.
My chest tightens. What if it hits the news? Shit—TikTok would eat this up. Everyone loves watching someone else’s life burn down.
Kate wouldn’t believe it... would she?
“We’re through, Tess,” I growl, storming off without a goodbye.
The optics are bad. Really bad. Kate’s out of town. I decided that I need to get ahead of this. I didn’t think anything—or anyone—could wedge themselves between Kate and me.
But now? I realize all too late that I might’ve handed Tess the boulder she needs to put a wedge between me and my wife.
I get in my car and command it to call Kate. I look at the clock on the dashboard, and it’s late. Kate might not hear my phone if she’s still at the concert venue.
I text Shay, she’s not picking up either.
Shit.
I arrive home and toss my keys on the counter. I run my hand through my hair and pace the living room. I’m in a panic thinking the worst because this is my marriage.
Kate finally opened up to me. She let me into her life and her heart. But I know old habits are hard to break, and the ones that deal with the heart, well, those are the ones that hurt the most.
I’ve called her five times. Voicemail. Texted. Nothing. I even emailed her like a damn boomer.
Still nothing.
The photo dropped last night. Tess and I. Her hand on my arm, some stupid half-smile on my face. I looked like I’d just promised her the world and meant it.
I hadn’t. I hadn’t even meant to be there. But Kate doesn’t know that because I haven’t talked to her since it happened.
She left for her mom’s early. Said she needed to “clear her head.” I thought she meant from Mamma’s snide remarks about her nail polish. I didn’t know she meant me.
Did she see the photo? Someone must’ve sent it. It’s everywhere.
“Finn, it’s just a picture. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Mikael said when I called him for his advice this morning.
So, why does it looks like I did?
And that’s the worst kind of wrong—because it’s the kind you can’t explain. It’s the kind that makes you guilty before you even get a word in, but more importantly, it’s the kind of trouble that causes divorces.
I pace the living room like a caged animal. Her hoodie’s still on the back of the couch. Her hair tie’s on the lamp. Her mug—our shared mug, which says “Hot Stuff” on one side and “Caffeine Queen” on the other—is in the sink.
God, I miss her.
I don’t know when that started. I don’t know when it stopped being fake and started being this... something I don’t want to lose—ever. But I’m now feeling an emptiness in my chest that only fills when she’s near.
Night falls, and she should be home, but she’s not. And I know in my heart that she’s gone. And I can’t fix it, because I can’t reach her.
My hands are shaking, and I don’t shake, not even on the ice, and not even in the playoffs, not even when I got drafted.
But I’m shaking now.
Because what if I lose her? Not because I kissed someone else, or cheated, or screwed up like I’ve screwed up a thousand things before. This is worse.
Because I hurt her without meaning to, I hurt her because I let my ex-fiancée get inside my head. And the worst part?
She doesn’t mean anything to me because Kate is my world.
It’s been two days, and she’s radio silent…no call. No text. Not even a dot-dot-dot bubble to pretend like she was thinking about replying.
Just cold silence.
I don’t even know if I deserve a response.
I’ve replayed this scenario over and over in my head—me walking into that café like a goddamn idiot, sitting across from Tess, letting her talk, letting her touch me.
I didn’t stop it fast enough. I didn’t see the camera.
I didn’t even know she was capable of something like this.
But perhaps I knew I didn’t trust her when we were dating.
They say a woman scorned is not a desired outcome.
Now, I’ve lived it firsthand, and it’s not fun.
I thought I could handle the situation. I wanted to have closure and keep Kate safe from the past I had never discussed.
But I didn’t protect her. I hurt her.
Worse than that? I made her think she was replaceable. That I’d go back to Tess the second it opened its doors again.
The press thinks I’m “rekindling an old flame.”
Tess texted me, “Just ignore it—publicity doesn’t matter.”
Screw that. Publicity is the only reason I’m losing my wife. The woman I love. The woman who wore my championship jersey to bed. The same woman who danced in the kitchen with pancake batter in her hair. Who told me not to be afraid of wanting more than the life I’d settled for?
And now she’s gone.
I sit on the floor of the guest room—hers, technically—with the collection of clothes I bought for her still hanging in it. She didn’t take anything.
Not that she even came home before she left me. No. Kate isn’t a bullshitter. She means business.
But I don’t. And every time my phone buzzes, I hope it’s her. It never is. And honestly? I don’t think she’s coming back. Why did I fuck up the best thing that happened to me?
And how can I get her back?