“I actually know that, Brie.” His voice had softened and he didn’t break eye contact with her as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Shaking his head, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was wrong. Really wrong with how I’ve treated you. I know that…have known it. I’m sorry.”
The words were sincere, and something about that fact had her coming down fractionally. Or at least just enough for her to stop screaming. But she was still holding on to a fair amount of anger, and she wasn’t letting him off that easy. “How many times have you actually admitted to that? Being wrong?”
“Not a lot.” He shook his head, taking a second to study her. All of her. His eyes moved from hers and down her body, not in a sexual way so much as just getting the full picture. “I wasn’t prepared for you. In any way. I don’t do relationships, Brie.”
Her eyebrows rose high. “I wasn’t aware that I’d asked for one.”
“You didn’t, but the women that I…” He trailed off, apparently looking for the right words to continue.
But she finished for him. “The women that you sleep with?” She wasn’t shocked by the fact that he didn’t do relationships and only had sex, not in the slightest. It wasn’t like she imagined the man to be celibate. After the night they’d spent together there was no doubt in her mind that he was experienced. Plus, he worked at a bar.
She wasn’t naive.
“Yes.” He nodded. “The women that I sleep with aren’t from around here. Which means that the instances that I randomly run into them again are few and far between.”
“And you keep running into me.”
“Over and over and over again.”
“And that’s why you’ve been an asshole when we’ve run into each other? Because you don’t like seeing your one-night stands out in the light of day?”
“A case could be made that I’m usually an asshole.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile.
“Don’t I know it.”
“I’m sorry, Brie.” He repeated those words and she knew he meant them, could see it there in his eyes. God, his eyes. “There’s no excuse…no excuse for any of it. It doesn’t matter about Bethelda. I mean it matters, but not in the way that I was making it an issue.”
Her shoulders slumped, all of the fight leaving her in a rush of air. “God, Finn, you’re exhausting.”
“There are a number of people in my life who would agree with you.” This time when he smiled it reached his eyes. “You’re going to be here for a while, and with the way the last few days have gone, I have a feeling we’re going to see each other often. I feel like it would be good for both of us to be in the same room and not get into a fight. And yes, I know I’m the one who has to take the first steps in that direction. So I am.”
“That’s it? Just get along? What about what just happened on the floor over there?” She nodded to the spot where they’d been dry-humping each other.
“Call it a moment of weakness.”
A huff of laughter escaped her lips and she tilted her head to the side. In that small moment it felt like it had been at the beginning with him. “A moment of weakness? Really?”
“You have a better explanation?”
“No.” She shook her head. She had absolutely no explanation for anything that happened with the two of them.
“In that case, truce?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“I guess so.” She nodded, reaching her hand out and grabbing his. “Truce.”
That oh-so-familiar warmth spread up her arm, and for just a second she forgot to breathe. Apparently that was how it was going to be when he had his hands on her, even if it was just a simple handshake.
Except nothing with them had been simple. Not from the start.
They both let go and he took a step back. “I’m going to go get those boxes from outside. You want me to just put them in here?”
“Y-yes. That’s fine.”
“And I’ll grab those on my way out,” he said, pointing to the two remaining boxes. Well, the one remaining intact box and the pile of sweaters next to the empty box. “Can you just repack it for me?”
She nodded and he turned and headed out of the room. “Finn?” she called out when he got to the threshold of the hallway.
He stopped walking, putting his hand on the frame as he looked back to her. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
His hand dropped as he turned to fully face her. “I thought I told you I didn’t need any thank-you for helping move stuff?”
“I meant thank you for catching me.”
His mouth fell open on a breath, his eyes widening. He clearly hadn’t expected that. But then that smile of his was back in place, turning up the corners of his mouth. “I wasn’t going to let you fall, Brie. Not without catching you.” And with that he turned around and walked out of the room.
Chapter Eleven
More People Eating Their Feelings with Pancakes
When Sunday morning dawned Finn was exhausted and more confused than he’d been in his entire life. He’d slept like shit, tossing and turning. It didn’t even take closing his eyes for him to see Brie…she was a constant thought, a constant picture, a constant want.
His mind kept replaying everything from that afternoon. The only intention he’d had when he’d driven over to Bethelda’s house—scratch that, now Brie’s house—was to get the stuff she’d wanted to donate. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.
He knew it wasn’t exactly enough to get his mother, Hannah, Harper, and Delilah to stop glaring at him whenever he walked into a room, but he thought it might be enough to appease his conscience a little. Except he’d gotten there and all of his intentions had gone out of the fucking window.
First off, it had been weird being inside of that house. Seeing where Bethelda had lived and all of the stuff she owned. It was no wonder Brie had no idea how long she was going to be in Mirabelle with all of the things she had to go through. One glance at one room and he knew she hadn’t even made a dent with the load she’d gotten rid of.
The second thing that had happened to throw him off—and the biggest—was when Brie had almost crashed into that grandfather clock. There’d been no thinking when he’d gone to grab her, only action. And then they’d been on the ground and she’d been sprawled on top of him.
Being in close proximity to her had already done funny things to him. But then he’d felt every part of her pressed up against every part of him. His nose had been in her hair, that sweet mint scent filling his lungs. All he’d been able to do was breathe deeper. And then they’d looked at each other and every ounce of his self-control had disappeared.
Kissing her again, tasting her again, it was all he could think about. It was those memories that took control when he’d finally fallen asleep. She’d been in every part of his dreams, except there he’d actually gotten inside of her again.
He’d woken up hard and even after getting himself off in the shower he felt almost no relief. It had barely made a dent in his need. And how could it? He knew exactly what being with her was like. Knew exactly how it felt to have her pulsing around his cock as they both came.
To add insult to injury, his first cup of coffee hadn’t done anything to his zombie-like state. He was going to need a lot more and fast.
Luckily for him, that was on the morning’s agenda. That Sunday was the first Sunday in February.
Since Finn was five years old, he and Shep had been coming to the Stardust Diner on the first Sunday of every month. It was something they’d always done with their grandfather. There’d been times over the years that either Finn or Shep hadn’t been able to make it, but they’d been few and far between. And there’d never been a single instance where Owen had dined alone. Not one.
God Finn missed Owen, more than words could possibly say. He’d idolized the man as far back as he could remember. Finn’s very first memory was of him and Shep sitting in their grandfather’s lap. Owen reading them Charlotte’s Web
while he moved them all back and forth in his rocking chair.
It used to be that whenever Finn and Shep needed advice with a problem—usually about something that they’d done that was most definitely going to get them in trouble—they turned to their grandfather first. More often than not, Owen always told them to face the problem head on.
There’d been the time they’d burned a hole through their mother’s oriental rug. Another time they’d gotten a little too carried away while wrestling in the hallway…and put a shoulder-shaped hole in the wall. They’d broken ceiling fans and bunk beds. Hit a baseball through the window in the kitchen. Gotten caught drinking Jack Daniel’s…half of the brand-new bottle gone. Sunk a fishing boat in the Gulf of Mexico. Gotten their father’s truck stuck out in the middle of a field while mudding.
And that was just the stuff they’d gotten into together.
As kids they’d snuck stray dogs into their rooms…as teenagers it had been girls. Though, with Finn it had always been Rebecca while Shep had a revolving line.
It was a miracle that they hadn’t killed their parents…or that their parents hadn’t killed them. They credited their survival to Owen. He’d always stood by them through all of their screw-ups, and had never given up on them even when they were at their worst. But even though he hadn’t—and wouldn’t have ever—given up on his grandsons, it didn’t mean he’d ever minced words when he was telling them what he thought about a situation.
If there was anything that Owen Shepherd was, it was honest. He wondered what his grandfather would say to him now.
The answer to that question came almost immediately, and it was in the form of Shep’s words from the other night. You want to know one of the last things Grandpa said to me? He asked me when I was going to stop messing around with my life and settle down. It wasn’t the first time those words had replayed in his mind…it wasn’t even the fifty-first.
But Finn didn’t want to settle down. He was perfectly content with his life.
Bullshit. That one word echoed around his head like a rifle shot, Owen’s voice loud and clear.
OK, it was true, at one point in his life he had imagined himself with a wife, 2.5 kids, a dog, and a house on the water.
The thing was, the woman in that picture had always been Rebecca. Once that dream had drowned he’d done nothing to bring it back to life. He’d just gone down a new path. One that didn’t involve a wife or kids.
He had two out of the four from what he’d imagined of his future…those were odds he’d definitely take to Vegas.
Now you’re gambling with your life? Again it was Owen’s voice in his head, sounding less and less pleased. Almost six years since his grandfather’s death and Finn could still hear him loud and clear.
There was something to that. Even if he wasn’t there, the people who remembered him wouldn’t let him die. Keeping up with traditions was part of that. Which was why he and Shep continued to go to the Stardust Diner on that first Sunday of the month. They’d done a pretty good job of keeping up with that particular tradition, too, one of them was usually always there, even if they were eating alone.
But neither of them would be eating alone that morning. Shep was already sitting at the booth when Finn walked through the door, two steaming cups of coffee on the table.
“Hey.” Finn took the empty seat, immediately grabbing two sugar packets and ripping them open.
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” He dumped the sugar into the mug before grabbing the small metal container of half-and-half and tipping it over the rim. Once the correct ratio had been reached, and the coffee stirred, Finn lifted the mug to his mouth and took a long drink…so long that when he was finished half of the coffee was gone. Setting the mug down he looked up to find his brother frowning at him.
“Look, I’m OK with this unspoken truce we’ve had going on. I’ve already said my piece on what I think about things, so it’s totally up to you on whether you want me to ignore whatever this is.” Shep waved a hand in the air, the motion encompassing Finn’s face. “Or do you want to tell me about whatever it is that’s gotten under your skin?”
“You mean who has gotten under my skin?”
“Oh, I know it’s Brie, I’m not an idiot. What happened now?”
“Hannah tell you that Mom ripped me a new asshole yesterday?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But Dad did when we were working at the Sheep last night. He said Mom was in a state when she got home. I guess Brie told them all the truth about Bethelda.”
“Yeah, and none of them cared one little bit about it.”
“And now you’ve finally realized you don’t care, either?”
“Why do you think that?” Finn hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to be psychoanalyzed by his brother, but he asked anyway. And as Shep’s mouth turned up into a knowing smile, he knew he was in for it.
“You mean how do I know it?”
Finn didn’t answer and Shep just grinned.
“What was your first thought? When you saw Brie standing in your office? After the night you’d spent with her but before you found out about Bethelda?”
“I…” Finn trailed off, thinking back to that moment. “I was glad she hadn’t left,” he admitted. But not only had he been glad, he’d felt hope. Hope that turned into that balloon, that damn balloon that he’d had to pop.
“Knowing you the way I do, once you thought that, you became set on finding something that was wrong with her,” Shep continued. “And once the Bethelda factor was out in the open, you latched on and went with it.”
Dammit, Shep had gotten that right.
Finn took a deep breath before he let it out through his nose on a sigh. “Yeah. That’s exactly what happened.”
“I know just as much as you do how much it sucks when Mom lays into you. Hurts more than anyone else…well, besides when it was Owen.”
“God, when Owen was disappointed that was worse than anything.”
“I agree with her, though,” Shep said honestly. “You know biology isn’t always a factor in how someone turns out.”
“I do.” Finn nodded.
“So why did you act like it mattered with Brie?”
“Because I still wanted her.” He paused for just a second before he amended that statement. “I still want her.”
“That’s new and different for you and your one and done mentality.”
“I know that. First time in a long time.”
“You mean first time in eight years?” The part that Shep left out of that question was that it was the first time since Rebecca. But unspoken or not, Finn heard it loud and clear.
“Yeah.” He slowly nodded, reaching for the handle of his mug and draining the remainder of the coffee. He was going to need an entire pot brought to the table.
As if thinking it had summoned her, their regular waitress came out from the kitchen, pot in hand.
“Wanda, you are a godsend,” Finn said as he offered her a genuine, if not tired, smile.
“Sugar, I’ve been serving you breakfast for almost a quarter of a century, I know what you want even before you want it.” She filled up both coffee cups before setting the pot down on the table.
“Well, in that case, what should I have for breakfast?” He had no clue what he wanted to eat, but what he did know was that he was starving.
“Chocolate chip pancakes, with extra whipped cream and a double side of bacon.”
“Done.” He nodded.
“And you, honey?” Wanda looked to Shep.
“Same as him.”
“Perfect.” She grabbed the two untouched menus from the corner of the table and headed back to the kitchen.
“So what happened after the flogging?” Shep asked while they both doctored up their coffees again.
Finn waited to answer until he could take another hit of caffeine before he launched into the story. Shep just sat back and listened, slowly sipping from his own mug.
“Really, Robbie we
nt off?” Shep asked, surprised. “That’s pretty out of character for him.”
Robbie was actually from the next town over—which was why he hadn’t known where Bethelda’s house was—where the FedEx distribution center was located. He’d had the job since he was eighteen, but had been delivering to Mirabelle for just over a year. As there were only a few FedEx trucks that came to Mirabelle, most people knew who he was. He’d also turned twenty-one a couple of months back and stopped by the Sleepy Sheep every once in a while.
“It is. At first I came to the door because he was flirting with her, which I didn’t like. And then he turned on her when she mentioned Bethelda, and I wanted to shove his head through a wall.”
“Interesting.” Shep raised his eyebrows but he didn’t say anything else as Wanda was making her way back to the table, a tray balanced on her hand.
She unloaded the food with quick efficiency, two pancake plates, two bacon plates, and two bowls of freshly whipped cream. Any expert pancake eater knew that the whipped cream could not be put directly on the pancakes, because it would melt before the food even got to the table.
“You boys need anything else?” she asked as she flipped the tray under her arm.
“No, ma’am. Looks perfect.”
“Would I serve you anything less?” She put her free hand on her hip and gave them a sassy look.
“Never.”
“Exactly.” And with that she turned around and headed for the kitchen again.
Finn grabbed his knife and fork, digging into his pancakes. They were loaded with just enough melted chocolate, and the thick whipped cream had just the right amount of sweetness.
He swallowed, taking another sip of coffee before he asked, “So what was interesting, as you put it, about the encounter with Robbie?”
“That you can be mean to Brie, but no one else can.” Shep broke off a piece of bacon and popped it into his mouth.
Finn frowned. “Look, I thought we’d already established that I’ve been a total dick when it comes to Brie. And clearly there’s been no logic in my actions whatsoever, so let’s move on from that.” He waved his hand in a small rolling motion. “Besides, she already pointed out that I was a hypocrite.”
Untold Page 15