Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
OAKLEIGH
“I don’t think I can do this.”
I hold my stomach in the passenger seat as if I’m going to be sick. I know I look queasy, and I know it’s not down to Finn’s driving.
“It’s going to be okay,” Finn assures me. “We just have to be ourselves.”
“We hate each other,” I say, a hint of my usual sarcasm returning.
Finn’s foot pretty much slams on the brake. It’s a good thing there’s no one behind us. I whip my hand out and stop myself flying into the dashboard.
“What the fuck, Finley?”
The car remains in the middle of the lane, and Finn remains silent, his voice stolen by something in the air.
“You … you hate me?” Finn asks, voice quiet and … wounded.
Instantly, I find my stomach pooling with regret, the bitter acidic feeling making me ache on the inside.
Lately, this care for Finn’s feelings seems to have crept up on me.
Before he pulled me into this storm he built up, I wouldn’t have given two shits about how I was affecting him.
Now, my mind cannot help but replay the way his voice breaks on the word “hate” and how his face twists as the words struggle to come out.
I replay it over and over in my mind until guilt trips my stomach and pulls.
I tug at the ends of my hair, just like he does. “No, I don’t hate you, Finn.”
His shoulders relax as he lets out a breath and I wonder why the hell this means so much to him. I refrain from asking, though. I think I’m too afraid to know the answer.
He nods to himself like he’s agreeing with his own thoughts. He rests his hands on his lap, clenching and unclenching.
“I think I need to just stay parked for a second, yeah?”
“Okay.” I watch him squeeze his eyes shut every couple of seconds. “The thoughts giving you trouble?”
He nods solemnly. “Just a little bit.”
“You need me to drive?”
“I’ll be fine,” he says with a shake of his head. “Just need a minute.”
I think about everything that Finn’s been doing for me since this whole arrangement began.
Finn has made such an effort to appear as the perfect boyfriend, even when no one else is around.
He sees me in a way I never thought anyone would.
He treats me with respect and supports my dreams. When he found out what was in the notebook, he never laughed like my sister did; never cringed like my mom.
He just nodded and accepted it like it was a completely valid career change.
Maybe, just maybe, I can do the same. Push everything aside and just be there for him the way a girlfriend would.
I reach over and slide my nails along his scalp at the base of his neck.
The sound he makes is obscene, like a man starved.
His groan is low and vibrates through my fingers and up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
His head falls forward, his eyes closed, and he almost looks as if he’s in pain.
“Holy shit.” He groans again as my nails trace a path up his scalp to the crown of his head before drifting back down. He keeps his hair short at the back and on the sides so it’s easy for me to keep my touches light and unobstructed.
“Is the distraction working?” I ask, gravel in my throat.
“If by distraction you mean making my thoughts drift to other things, then yeah, it’s working.”
Drifting to what, I don’t ask, but can take a good guess. My mind races but no matter what kind of dread I manage to build up, excitement seems to surround it no matter what.
I maintain a steady pace—up to where his hair thickens, down to where his neck blends with his shoulders.
His head moves with my movements, making sure that my fingers have no trouble reaching his skin.
A ghost of a smile stretches across his face and I can feel the tension in my lips as they mirror it.
The feel of it is like ice spreading down my spine.
The joy, no—the contentment—that I feel as I watch all of his anxiety just melts away.
It’s new. It’s scary. And it’s just not happening.
I snatch my hand away and tuck it in between my thighs. I keep my gaze locked onto the pinks, reds, and yellows that illuminate the inside of the car with the setting sun.
Finn clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, like he’s trying to rid himself of any feel of me. “Thank you,” he says on a cough. “I feel better.”
I nod in acknowledgment, not trusting myself to open my mouth and let words tumble out haphazardly.
Finn puts the car back in drive and it’s only then that I realize that cars have been forced to pull out and overtake since he literally stopped in the middle of the road. Oops.
When we make it to the Locke and Key, the only bar in the whole of Eaglewood, Finn and I are pretty much choking on the awkwardness. No one says a word. I don’t even point out that Finn has submitted to three compulsions during the five minutes it takes to drive the rest of the way.
Despite that, Finn still opens the door and holds out a hand for me as I get out of the car.
He opens the door to the bar and waits for me to walk in and I almost jump when a large hand rests on the curve of my lower back, but I steel my spine and try my best to act as if it’s a normal thing between us.
We find our friends at the back of the bar. The music thumps against my chest as I wave at the group. Bash meets me first, lifting me up as he wraps me in a bear hug. He leaves a kiss on my cheek before putting me down and looking over my shoulder at Finn.
“You look like you’re ready to punch me,” he laughs as he sees something on Finn’s face.
“Just keep the kisses on the cheek, Finch.”
Something about the possessiveness sends fire rushing to my stomach.
“You know I will.” Bash lets me go and moves around me to hug Finn. I hear the claps they leave on each other’s backs and the laughs that reach me despite the loud music and even louder chatter.
“Hey, Lee,” Jamie, our friend and lovable barista at this town’s café winks at me from the booth. “I hear we’re shacking up with a certain Southwick brother.”
“Ew, I would never.”
I take a seat beside Sam, the third and oldest Finch brother. He nudges my shoulder in greeting and I nudge him back with mine.
Last fall, my friendship group expanded. Instead of only having Wren, I now have a few other people that I get to love and care for.
Finn takes a seat beside me, his arm draping itself across the back of the seat behind me.
He gives my hair a tug before softly running his fingers through it.
I now completely understand his reaction in the car because holy shit this feels good.
Finn is properly massaging my scalp and, oh God, it’s good.
That is, until he grips it at the roots in a way that makes it something else entirely.
“So, how’s couple life?” Jamie asks, his eyes burning with the need for gossip. I seriously should introduce him to Antoine—they both live for gossip.
“The same as before it was couple life,” Finn replies. “We argue nonstop and compete for absolutely nothing at all.”
“But now you just get to fuck at the end of it?”
“As the good Lord intended,” Sam cheers, lifting his beer glass in a toast.
Wren and Gus are in their own little world, I’m not even sure they know we’ve arrived. I watch them talk to one another in low whispers, my best friend blushing and leaning closer to her fiancé as he says something that I can only guess is obscene. Only the best for my non-biological sister.
There’s that ache within me that I keep buried deep within that decides to pop up again. I try and push it back down into the crevices of my throat where I keep all of my emotional baggage, but this time it’s stubborn, choosing to instead manifest itself as a weight on my chest.
I watch the unfiltered happiness on Wren’s face and beg for that look to be on my face one day. I see how Gus studies her face to see every reaction and every micro expression and adjust what he says next accordingly. And I know it happens the other way around because I’ve seen it.
I feel a whisper of warm breath beside my ear. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t turn back toward Finn, in fear that he’ll see the ache in my heart mirrored on my face.
“Nothing,” I reply, my voice quiet.
“Cherry,” he whispers, his breath fanning my ear. “Tell me. Let me take the weight.”
I’ve never had anyone offer to take the emotional weight from me before.
I’ve never had any man care enough that he has this desire to make things easier for me in any way.
But this isn’t the first time Finn has asked for the chance to do so.
It’s the first time he’s asked in such a forward way, but he shows me in the way he leaves breakfast for me in the mornings or puts washing in the machine so I don’t have to worry about it and so I have fresh scrubs for work.
Finn takes care of me.
“I want to quit my job,” I say quietly, so much so I don’t think he’s heard me.
“Okay,” he replies calmly. “Are you simply not happy there anymore?”
“Not just that.” I turn to face him now, longing replaced by a determination to get this off of my chest. To tell someone. “I think it’s time I do something with my life that I want to do. I love helping people, really I do, but—”
“It’s not what you want from life.”
I look down at the worn-out booth between us. Finn’s fingers gently lift my chin.
“Is that selfish of me?”
He smiles softly at me. “Cherry, it could never be selfish to take control of your life and do what makes you happy.”
“Very wise, Finn,” Sam grins beside me. “I have a friend who should listen to that very piece of advice.”
Finn’s smile drops, a look of guilt passing over his face.
I turn to Sam. “You think he needs to do what makes him happy?”
“I think Finn deserves a lot of things, and to not put pressure on himself is one of them.”
Hundreds of questions run through my mind, the words whipping about until they all blend together and no longer make sense. I want to ask every single one, but how does one do so when it’s none of their business?
* * *
The ease with which Finn is showing me affection, you’d think he’s been doing it for years. And the way I’m showing it back? Well, I would say it’s confusing me, but I feel as if, bet or not, it was inevitable.
But nothing about Finn’s behavior even comes close to my confusion about the looks that Sam is sending our way. Every time I catch him, he sends me this knowing smile. Sometimes I even see his shoulders chuckle when someone asks Finn and I about our dating life.
“Finn?” I ask, leaning away from Sam.
“Yeah?” He leans the rest of the way so that our noses are touching.
“Does Sam know something about our little … ruse?”
Finn’s awkward cough tells me everything I need to know.
“Finn!” I whisper and shout at the same time.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have told you, but I just didn’t want you to worry!”
“Oh, yeah, well, now that I know that you know, I’m definitely way less worried than I would have been… Oh wait!”
“Look, he dropped the bomb on me a couple of weeks ago. He’s the one who mentioned seeing you out on a date a few months ago so he knew our timeline was bullshit. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Hey, asshole, don’t try turn this around on me!” I let my mouth fall near his ear. “Focus on the shit you’ve done!”
“Nice deflection.” Finn smiles down at me and I hate how hot he looks.
“Right back at you.”
I move to sit back upright, but Finn’s arm wraps itself over my shoulder, his hand pushing on my chest until my back is against his chest. A very hard chest, I should probably add.
“Don’t know where you think you’re going, Cherry, baby.” His thumb drags across my jawline, a light swipe that sends a shiver through me.
“Worried I might go somewhere?”
His chuckle rumbles through his chest and I feel it on my back. “Worried I might go crazy if I don’t feel you against me.”
I hack out a surprised laugh. “You’re drunk.”
“After one drink?”
“Just one? Seriously?”
“I have to drive you home. I’m surprised my OCD allowed me even one knowing I have such precious cargo in my car.”
Guilt clenches my chest. “Why don’t I chug a bunch of water and I can drive us back? I only had two.”
Finn kisses my temple three times. “No, love. You deserve a night where you just get to enjoy yourself.”
“And you don’t?”
I turn to see him smirking at me. “Watching you enjoying yourself is me enjoying myself.”
That shuts me up and makes me down the rest of my beer, hoping it’ll shut off the buzzing and the warmth coursing through my veins.