55. Chapter 54
Chapter 54
Hudson
Chatter fills the dining room like it does most Sunday nights. It’s been a while since Paige and I have had Sunday dinner with the whole crew, being that I’ve been so busy at the bar. My brothers and sisters are raucous as usual, laughter punctuating every conversation. I’ve tried to join in, be cheery and enjoy their company, but I’m feeling sorry for myself.
It’s been four days since Tristen showed up and completely blew up my world. Before she left, Tristen and I sat down with Paige and told her in no uncertain terms that we are not getting back together. Paige cried, as I expected.
After talking it out with her, it seems things are less about wanting us together and more about wanting more time with her mom. Tristen does seem to be trying, having spent the entirety of her time here with Paige, but I‘m not expecting much to change. She’s likely already back in Manhattan, the check I wrote her probably burning a hole in her pocket. Whatever. She’s gone and if I have an inkling of intuition about it, we’ll probably never see her again. As much as that pains me for Paige to grow up without her mom, it’s probably for the best .
After Tristen flew out this morning, I took Paige out on horseback. I apologized for keeping my marriage to Finn from her. I explained how much I love Finnley, and since we’re married now, I want her to be a part of our family. I think she understands. At least, I hope she does, and that she eventually comes around. And that Finn does, too.
Finnley looked so sad this morning. I can’t get the sight of her puffy eyes and splotchy chest and neck out of my mind. I hate that I’m the cause of it. She asked me to give her some space, and I’m trying like hell to respect it, but it’s hard as fuck being away from her, not speaking to her.
My eyes land on Paige across the dinner table. She’s engrossed in conversation with Wrenley, something to do with the babies, and she’s grinning ear to ear. Hank says something to her and tugs on her braid, making her laugh.
She watches the babies move around in the safety of Wren’s belly, fascinated that she can see the outline of a tiny foot. And I think she’ll be ok.
Everyone else is carrying on conversations of their own while I pick at my food. Hutch makes a joke about something, and I force a laugh, even though I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. I’d like nothing more than to get shit-faced and pass out for the next two weeks, but I’ve got a daughter to take care of. However, one more beer won’t hurt, especially since I don’t have to drive anywhere tonight. For the foreseeable future, I’m back living with my parents.
I push back my chair, leaving half a plate of food, and head into the kitchen. Grabbing another beer and uncapping it, I take a long drink, downing half in one go. I lean back on the counter and scrub a hand over my face. I can’t believe the mess my life has become in such a short time. Shaking my head, I’m about to head back into the dining room to clean up my plate when the doorbell rings .
It’s seven-thirty on a Sunday, and anyone who comes to the ranch regularly wouldn’t ring the bell or knock. No one else seems to have heard it. I set down my beer with a sigh and head down the hallway to the front door.
When I pull the door open, Finn is standing on the other side. My heart rate kicks up in anticipation and my knees wobble a bit. She looks so fucking beautiful, so peaceful, I almost don’t believe she’s real.
“Hey,” she says softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Can we talk?”
I stare at her for a couple of beats before I push open the screen, step out on the porch, and close the door firmly behind me. “Yeah, of course,” I croak out, emotion thick in my throat. “Want to walk?” I ask, tipping my head to the yard. My palms immediately start to sweat and I have to rub them on my jeans.
“Sure.”
We leave the porch and fall into step with one another, walking side by side. The late August heat is still thick in the air, but we’re in the shadows between the barn and the main house, so it’s not too bad. From the corner of my eye, I can see her chewing on her lip and twisting her fingers in front of her as she walks. We make it as far as the barn, shoes crunching on gravel, and then she stops, turning to me.
“How are you?” she asks, her eyes dancing back and forth between mine.
I take a deep breath and let it out, eyebrows raised. “Honestly?” I shake my head lightly. “I’ve been better.”
She huffs a light laugh out through her nose and nods slightly. “Same.”
I reach up and run a palm over my neck, then stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans, not sure what else to do with them. All I really want to do is grab her so I can kiss some sense into her. I miss her so damn much.
My neck breaks out in a cold sweat, as uncertainty as to why she’s here courses through my veins. I’m running through a mental list of every objection she might use as to why we can’t be together. I’ve told myself countless times that it doesn’t matter if we don’t end up together, but that’s a lie. I don’t want to be just her best friend anymore.
“You look really beautiful,” I say, then bite the inside of my cheek to keep from verbal vomiting everything I want to say to her. My gut is a nervous wreck; I feel like I could puke.
She laughs lightly, looking down at her clothes. She’s in leggings and my NYU hoodie, with her hair undone and cascading in waves over her shoulders. She wrings her hands in front of her and bites her lip again, and when she looks back up at me, her expression is serious. She closes her eyes, like she isn’t sure she can look at me, before taking a calming breath and slowly letting it out.
When she opens her eyes, she pins me with a watery gaze, her brown eyes shimmering. “Thank you for the letter,” she says softly.
I try to read any sign on her face, something that will tell me what she’s feeling, but so far, all I see are nerves. I don’t know how to respond or what she came to say. So, I go with, “You’re welcome.”
She looks around as if thinking what to ask next, possibly stalling. “Did Tristen make her flight?”
I nod, surprised. “She did.”
“That’s good.” Her brow creases and she chews on the inside of her cheek before meeting my gaze head on. “Is Paige ok?”
I love that she thinks of Paige first. From the very beginning, Finnley has understood that my daughter and her happiness come first. It’s why I think she’ll be an amazing stepmom to Paige. If I can only convince her.
“She’s good. I think she finally understands that Tristen and I aren’t getting back together.”
Her eyes widen a fraction and she lets out a contented sigh, like, with this news, she can breathe easier.
“I talked to Paige about us, too,” I say, watching her face carefully.
Her eyes light up just a bit. “Yeah? ”
“Yeah,” I say with a small chuckle and kick the ground with the toe of my shoe. “When I told her I was hoping we could be a family, she said we already were. I mean, I think it’ll be kind of different seeing us together for a while, but…”
When I look back up at her, her chin quivers. She doesn’t cry. Instead, she clears her throat and looks away toward the road. My gut tightens up.
“I’m sorry,” I say gently. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
She’s quiet for a couple of seconds, chewing on her lip again. When she looks back at me, her eyes are full of longing and unshed tears. “You really hurt me.” She sniffles. “With the whole cremation thing.”
I swallow hard and look down at my shoes, nodding. “I know.”
She pulls in a deep breath. “You hurt me, but…I understand why you did it.”
My head snaps up. That was not what I was expecting her to say. “You do?”
She nods. “What Tristen said, about me being your charity case, I thought she was right.”
I go to interrupt her, but she holds up a hand, stopping me.
“But then, I realized something.”
I give a slight shake of my head. “What’s that?”
She briefly drops her eyes, but then brings them back to mine. “You gave me your last name,” she says.
I nod, watching her.
“You’ve already helped me so much. Whether it was helping me when my mama died, or paying for new tires for my car, I could explain that away as friendship. I mean, friendship alone would explain any of the other million little things you do for me that don’t cost you a thing. And the B&B was just a smart business decision for you.”
She pauses and my hands itch to pull her toward me, but I force them to stay hanging at my sides .
“That letter…it helped me understand. If you were just being a good friend by marrying me to help with my diabetes, you would have told me to keep my maiden name. But you didn’t,” she says, searching my face.
“No.” She thinks I give her so many things, but she’s got it twisted. I tip her chin up to look at me. “You taking my last name, becoming a Hayes, it’s pretty much all I’ve ever wanted.”
A tear slips out from the corner of her eye, but before she can really start crying, a playful grin tugs up the corners of her lips. She exhales with a laugh and a eye roll. “God, you really are so fucking obsessed with me.”
I bark out a laugh and reach for her, but she puts a hand on my chest, stopping me. I almost groan out loud because I need to touch her, to hug her. I might lose my mind if I don’t.
“What did Tristen really want?” she asks softly.
“Money,” I tell her. I won’t keep things from her anymore, especially when it comes to finances. I’ve learned my lesson. Even if it was the fucking hard way.
Her eyebrows come together. “She’s broke?”
“Her father cut her off.”
“So, she came to you, and what… You gave her money?” she asks, and I’m not sure if she’s angry at me for giving in to her or if it’s something else.
“Yes.” I nod.
Her eyes darken. “And she just…left?”
“I don’t suspect we’ll see her for a while. If ever.”
She shakes her head, looking down. “God, poor Paige.” Her voice is strained.
I tip her chin up again. “She’ll be ok. You said it yourself, right? She’s got more people that love her than she knows what to do with. And she’s got one hell of a stepmom.” I hold my breath, afraid one wrong move will send her packing .
She watches me, chewing her bottom lip some more, and driving me crazy. I want to kiss her so badly, but I won’t force her into something she isn’t ready for.
Taking another deep breath, she takes my hand in hers, twining our fingers together. The contact feels so fucking good, this time I do groan.
“There’s just one more thing,” she says, her lips tipping up in that mischievous smirk again and it’s like a bolt of lightning to my chest.
I’ll give her anything. All she has to do is name it. “What’s that?”
“I get to pick where we build the house.”
Relief sweeps through me and my vision blurs, distorting her beautiful face. I pull in a trembling breath, causing my chest to visibly stutter. My muscles suddenly and involuntarily loosen and then catch so my knees don’t buckle. I try to laugh. Actually, I’m pretty sure the sound that rips from my chest is a sob, but when I reach for her and our bodies collide, she makes a similar sound.
Throwing her arms around my neck, I hoist her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I crush my lips to hers. Then, I turn and take two long strides to the side of the barn. Her back hits the white siding as my tongue delves into her mouth. She meets me swipe for swipe and the groan I let out at finally having her back in my arms is inhuman.
She whimpers as I crush her in my embrace, trailing hot kisses over her face, nose, and forehead. She lets out a gasp when I nip at her throat, and she pulls my mouth back to hers in a searing kiss.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she mutters, her mouth peppering mine with kisses and her hands fisting in my hair.
“I’m sorry, too. For everything. For not telling you how I felt sooner, and for the stuff with your mama’s cremation. I’ll fucking do anything to make it up to you. I’m sorry for letting you go for even one second,” I whisper back, and then kiss her fully again .
I spin her away from the wall and carry her into the barn, our lips never leaving each other’s.
“Where are we going?” she asks breathlessly. She’s clinging to my neck and shoulders, her breath a whisper over the skin there, making me shiver.
I don’t answer, just continue kissing her until we make it to Hank’s office in the barn. Once inside, I cross the room and set her on the worn leather couch Hank had brought down from the den when Pop got his fancy new recliner.
I kiss her once and then straighten. Going to the desk, I yank open drawer after drawer, looking for something, anything I can use.
“What are you looking for?” she asks with a laugh.
I rifle through pens, papers, push pins, business cards, and every office supply imaginable, but come up empty. Worthless piece of shit desk. Then, it hits me.
Crossing back over to her from the desk, I reach out. “Here,” I say, “give me your hand.” She does, and then I drop down to one knee between hers where she’s perched on the edge of the couch.
“What are you doing?” Her hand flies up to her mouth and tears gather in her eyes.
“Finnley,” I start before choking on the words. “Fuck.” I swipe at my own watery eyes and try again, looking up into her big brown ones. “It’s you and me. You're my…” I let out a strangled grunt and shake my head once, clearing my throat. “You’re my first everything. My first crush, my first date—even if it was completely one-sided.” She chuckles. “My first best friend, and my first broken heart. You’re also the first person outside of my family to look at me and see more than just the funny fuckup.”
Her hand comes up to my face, stopping my words with one adoring look. “You were never a fuckup, Huddy.” She holds my gaze, and then her lips tip up in that sassy smirk I love. “And you’re only a little funny. ”
I huff out a chuckle. “You always see the best parts of me, Finnley Hayes, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to be your husband for real this time.” I slip my finger in next to my watch and pull out a black hair tie. I make a loop with it three times, and then take her finger, sliding it into place. It’s bulky as fuck, but it’s perfect. I raise my eyes to hers. “Will you be my wife?”
A sob breaks from her chest, and she throws her arms around my neck. Her voice is choked with emotion when she whispers, “I already am.”