Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hayes, Lane

  Finn pointedly ignored my wide-eyed request to say no and returned her smile before helping himself. “Thank you.”

  “Come on, Mom. Grab the timer and let’s sit outside. It’s a nice night. It’s warm and it won’t get dark for another hour,” I pleaded, gently steering her with me to the sliding glass door.

  I led the way outside toward the round plexiglass table with an ancient green umbrella, noting with relief that the backyard looked well-kept. The tiles around the edge of the pool were cracked in some places, but it was clean and the potted roses provided a vibrant contrast to the faded blue. I couldn’t help comparing my dad’s current living situation with this…time warp. He was flourishing in a new home with a new lover and a new life, and Mom was wallowing in the past.

  “These are amazing,” Finn gushed, biting into his treat with an orgasmic sigh.

  I kicked him under the table and shot a menacing glare I hoped clearly conveyed the message, “Don’t encourage the crazy.” He winced and then shrugged. My mom just smiled gleefully.

  “Thank you. I love to bake.”

  “Mom…”

  “I know, I know. I get carried away sometimes but I swear it’s the best way I’ve found to keep myself from jumping off a cliff,” she huffed in amusement as she sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. I admired her casual elegance. The dress, the bare feet, the apron, the pearls. I even admired the brownies because she was right…it could have been a lot worse.

  “What happened?” I asked softly.

  “Nothing really and we have company, Josh. It isn’t right to air our dirty laundry in front of Finn.”

  “Fair enough. So…your last name is Cochrane now. Since when?”

  “Since birth. It’s time to reclaim my name and let your father’s go. How about a sandwich?”

  I held her wrist when she started to stand. “No. Thank you. Mom, are you upset about Dad and Lars? You’ve known for a while. He told us you—”

  “Us? You know too?” she asked Finn.

  Finn glanced between us cautiously before inclining his head. “Yes.”

  “Finn went to Dad and Lars’s with me for brunch a few months ago.”

  It was her turn to cast a watchful motherly gaze over us. I could practically hear the intrusive questions I sensed coming my way. All of them would be a variation of, “Do you think he’s the one?”

  I hoped like hell she didn’t verbalize any in front of Finn.

  “Ah. I see. I’m not upset about your father,” she said simply. “I’ll always love him, Josh. We’re very good friends and I only want him to be happy.”

  “I believe you. So why are you baking?”

  “He’s going to tell your sisters about Lars tomorrow.”

  “They’re going to be fine, Mom. Surprised, yes…but fine.”

  “I know, but—this is hard. Harder than I thought it would be. I wish I had a say in this but I don’t.”

  “A say? It’s Dad’s life, not yours or mine,” I said, reaching for her hand. “Jen and Janie will be shocked for sure, but they’ll rally around him. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” If I hadn’t been sitting next to her, I might have missed the flash of unhappiness in her eyes.

  “But you feel bad. Why?”

  She tried a smile that landed like a belly flop off a high-dive. It was cringeworthy. “Because the past catches up with all of us. I can’t help thinking I’ve stolen something that never belonged to me and I can never give it back and—oh! There’s the timer. I’m going to get another round of drinks and scrounge up an appetizer for you boys. Be right back.”

  I waited until the screen door closed behind her then turned to Finn with a wide-eyed expression. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Finn smiled. “I like her.”

  “Me too. She’s actually pretty awesome, but did you see that kitchen? It’s madness!”

  “She’s baking, not mainlining coke, Joshy. I’d say it’s a relatively harmless way to deal with her feelings.”

  “Hmph. What’s your way?” I asked, desperate to stop talking about the wreckage of my parents’ marriage. It was hard enough seeing her upset knowing I couldn’t really help.

  “I don’t know. Working out, I suppose or—” He stopped and turned toward the house when Van Morrison’s “Moondance” suddenly blasted through an open window.

  My mom hadn’t updated the house with an indoor/outdoor sound system, which meant she’d propped an old boom box next to the screen and put one of her old favorite CDs or cassette tapes in and pressed Play. I had to laugh because it was so her. This was a fine example of a passive aggressive albeit sweet gesture to encourage a romantic atmosphere. It was her way of letting me know I should be concentrating on my own life and not worrying about hers. Van Morrison was probably specifically selected because he was Irish and she liked him…and she approved of Finn.

  I snickered as I shifted in my chair. “She loves Van.”

  “So do I. Want to dance?”

  “Uh. Here? In the backyard?”

  Finn stood and held out his hand. “Yes. Here. Now. It’s a marvelous night for a moondance,” he quoted.

  I took his hand and let him pull me from my chair but I was rigid and uncooperative. I couldn’t help it. This was so…new. We’d never danced together. Ever. Not in a bar, a club or even in his living room. And never in the moonlight. Or twilight, I amended, looking briefly at the heavens. My heart expanded in my chest, leaving me breathless and unsure.

  “My mother’s going to come out any second.”

  Finn brushed my hair from my forehead and snaked his arm around my waist. “I don’t know her at all but I’m fairly certain your mum won’t mind. Either way, I’m willing to take a chance. Come, love. Just one dance.”

  I gave him a shy smile and stepped into his arms then set my right hand in his and let him take over. He rested his cheek against mine and swayed from side to side before gently spinning us in a half circle. The sweet, romantic glide was reminiscent of a scene from an old-time black and white movie. It was magic. He was magic. But fuck, it made me nervous. We’d gone from estranged fuck buddies to friends to this. I was desperate to label whatever this was because in my mind it was “boyfriend-y.” Dancing in his arms was crossing a line into new territory. Wasn’t it? As he squeezed me closer and hummed in my ear before spinning me around, I felt dizzy. The way I imagined anyone did when they realized it was the moment they’d fallen in love.

  Chapter 9

  The drive back to the city was quiet. We were both lost in thought or maybe we were coming down from a sugar high. I usually avoided eating my mom’s baked goods so I wouldn’t inadvertently encourage her unique brand of madness. Tonight, I made a meal of brownies and the cheese and crackers she’d offered later then washed them down with beer until my stomach demanded me to stop.

  It had been a relatively pleasant evening. By unspoken agreement, we set aside uncomfortable topics and pretended this was my spur-of-the-moment chance to introduce my mother to the guy I was kind of crazy about. Mom talked Finn’s ear off about our Irish ancestry and the few cousins she thought might still live in County Limerick. He was kind enough to seem genuinely interested. He even taught her a few Gaelic words and had her giggling girlishly when he attempted to correct her pronunciation. In short, he was charming, she was mildly infatuated, and I was…head over heels.

  She sent us off with a plate of brownies and made me promise to bring “my boyfriend” when I came home next time. Finn didn’t seem bothered by the title, but I was overwhelmed by it and wary of the strength of my feelings. Especially as the night wore on and the novelty of his presence in the house where I grew up took on a significance I was tempted to quantify. But this wasn’t a show and tell moment where we emptied the contents of our pockets at the same time to prove we had the same amount of marbles. I had to trust I wasn’t alone here but frankly…I had my doubts. And sitting with a plate of Mom’s brownies on my lap wasn’t helping. />
  “We need to chuck these in the trash immediately,” I groused. “She’s ruined brownies for me forever now. I can’t even look at these without getting a stomachache.”

  “More for me. They’re delicious,” Finn said as pulled into his garage. “You’re very lucky, you know.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of my never-ending supply of desserts,” I joked.

  “No.” He cut the engine and turned to face me in the semi-dark. “But I do think you hit the parental jackpot. They’re both lovely people who adore you and accept you. What a gift that is, Joshy.”

  “In spite of the brownie mountain debacle, I agree.” I stepped out of the car and shoved my hand through my hair, no doubt sending it into Einstein levels of wildness.

  “Brownie mountain debacle. Is that what we’re calling it now?” he asked with a laugh as he led the way upstairs to the main floor, turning on lights along the way.

  Finn tugged at my wrist when I headed for the next flight of stairs and pulled me against him. He kissed me softly, smoothing his hands over my hair as he tilted his head and licked my lips in a request for entry. We made out on the stairs until oxygen deprivation became an issue. Then he smacked my ass and pointed toward the bedroom.

  “Go on. I’ll be there shortly. I’m going to put my brownies away so you aren’t tempted to bin them.”

  “Hide them well,” I advised.

  I headed to the master suite and took a moment to admire the perfect blend of modern elements in the otherwise traditional room. The king-sized platform bed neatly made with a khaki linen duvet and framed by contemporary library-style reading lights. The walls were white, the drapery was beige striped linen, and the furniture was dark. It was a relaxing neutral space but it was the large colorful photographs of the Irish countryside that always caught my attention. They were gorgeous.

  The dramatic emerald green cliffs and stormy seas were pieces of Finn’s home, just like the suburban relic we’d visited tonight was mine. I turned with a sigh to the master bath, unbuttoning my shirt as I reached for my toothbrush. Some days, just the sight of our toothbrushes resting together in the ceramic cup on the marble counter made my heart race. We hadn’t been doing this for long, but the daydream that we could be something special was a sweet one. That dance immediately sprang to mind. I sighed then stripped down to my boxers, cleaned up, and headed back to the bedroom. Fuck, I was a head case tonight.

  I peeled back the duvet then turned with a start when Finn bumped into the door carrying a tray. He raised his brows lasciviously as he moved toward the bed.

  “Perfect timing. Jump in bed, love.”

  “What is all this?” I asked, hopping onto the mattress.

  Finn waited for me to settle in before placing the tray next to me. “A light snack. I was still hungry. Grapes, strawberries, carrots, and hummus. And water. Tuck in.”

  “Tuck in?” I teased, admiring the view as he slipped his shirt from his broad shoulders and then unbuckled his belt.

  “Basic translation is ‘eat.’ ”

  “I just brushed my teeth.”

  “I should do that too. I’ll be right back.” He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers before making his way to the bathroom wearing nothing but his underwear and black dress socks. My dick twitched appreciatively at the sight. I glanced down at the tray to distract myself and idly picked up one of the water bottles.

  “Hummus and toothpaste are an iffy combo, you know,” I called out.

  He came back into the room mid-brush to roll his eyes at me before returning to the bathroom. I chuckled as I uncapped the bottle and listened to the homey sounds of him moving around in the next room. I was a sucker for the little things. Mind-blowing sex was awesome, but I kind of got off on sharing simple bedtime rituals. It was a newer development in our “relationship” and while I wisely reminded myself it might not last forever, I was determined to soak in every moment.

  “Let’s see if you’re right. Pass the hummus,” he instructed.

  Finn perched himself on the mattress next to me then bent to pull his socks off before turning to face me with his hand outstretched. I opened the container and pushed the bowl of carrots toward him.

  “Here you go. Proceed at your own risk.”

  He swiped a carrot through the dip and took a bite. “Not bad. Try it.”

  “Maybe after the minty fresh taste in my mouth mellows out. I’m surprised you’re still hungry. You ate more brownies than me.”

  Finn shifted on the bed to face me and crossed his legs. “Are you judging me?”

  “Yep. And I shouldn’t after what you witnessed tonight,” I huffed humorlessly.

  “What did I witness?” he asked, frowning as he reached for another carrot.

  “You got a backstage secret viewing of a documentary on the perils of family dysfunction.”

  Finn snorted. “Your family is far less dysfunctional than most.”

  “I’d agree, but my mom is a serial baker, Finn. It’s not the same as a serial killer, but it’s still not a good thing,” I snarked.

  “It’s not the world’s worst thing either. Has she always baked like this?”

  “Yes, but lately, it’s accelerated…times ten. When she gets in this mode, it’s like a switch flips and she becomes a baking robot. She goes to the market to stockpile ingredients then stays up all night, working herself into a state of exhaustion. Measure, mix, assemble, repeat. She barely sleeps or eats. She still goes to work, thank God. But when she gets home, she bakes. And bakes. It would be different if she was auditioning for a spot on a Food Network show, but she doesn’t go for flashy or inventive recipes. She uses the same ones over and over. Brownies, chocolate chip cookies, lemon bars, snickerdoodles…”

  “How long does this last?”

  “A couple of days or about twenty dozen cookies or brownies…give or take a few. Her current output was hella epic. She must still be upset about Dad and Lars and I don’t get it.”

  “She probably feels guilty.”

  “About what exactly? I can put some of it together but I don’t understand the way she communicates. It’s confusing and crooked and truthfully, I think it hurts her more than any of us.”

  Finn held my gaze meaningfully then let out a ragged breath.

  “Guilt is a heavy burden, Josh. It’s easy to say, ‘Get over it,’ but it’s not always easily done.”

  “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” I said, cocking my head.

  “Everyone feels guilty at some point or another.” His tone was light, but I noted the sudden shift in his posture and his hooded gaze. The change was infinitesimal, but it felt like a blast of frosty air in an otherwise warm room. I pushed the tray away to free the edge of the linen duvet and cover my feet. “Are you cold?”

  “No, I…”

  Finn stood abruptly and picked up the tray then moved to the door. “If you aren’t going to eat anything, I’ll take this downstairs now. Do you want more water?”

  “Uh…no.” I shook my head.

  “Lie down then. I’ll be back.”

  I stared at the space he’d vacated for a long moment then scrambled out of bed and followed him. I hurried to the stairs but slowed halfway down when I realized I wasn’t sure what I was doing. My instincts told me to pay attention, but I couldn’t do that if he walked away. Plus I had no idea what I was looking for. Like he’d said, everyone felt guilty at some point. Hell, I felt guilty I’d eaten five brownies tonight.

  I rounded the corner to the kitchen and found Finn gazing into space with his hands braced on the counter. His back was to me but he must have sensed my presence. He turned to face me and smiled wanly.

  “I changed my mind about the water,” I said.

  Finn raised a brow then gestured toward the pantry. “Help yourself.”

  “I’d rather use a glass if you don’t mind. We should be more mindful of our carbon footprint.” I opened a cabinet and pulled out two glasses. “Want one?”


  “No, thank you.”

  I joined him at the sink and filled my glass. I leaned against the counter and took a sip, wracking my brain for an opening that didn’t scream awkward. “I could use some ice.”

  I moved to the freezer and grabbed a couple of pieces then dropped them into my water and returned to his side. Think, think, think.

  “Are you ready for bed?”

  “Soon. Have you ever been to Iceland?” I tried lamely.

  “Uh…no. Have you?” Finn flashed a lopsided grin at me then crossed his arms over his chest, clearly intrigued with my odd non sequitur.

  “No. I was just thinking it’s fairly close to Ireland so…maybe.”

  “No. What’s really on your mind, Joshy?”

  “You. Ireland.”

  “Tá Éire álainn.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ireland is beautiful. Like you.”

  “Where do you go when you go home? You said your family lives in Dublin now and you did too for a while but…what about the place you grew up? Do you still see your friends? Do they ever visit you here?”

  “What are you after, Josh?” he asked in a thick brogue.

  The glint in his eye was slightly dangerous now as though he was warning me to proceed with care. It wasn’t lost on me that we were both in our underwear, but while he looked like a fierce, battle-worn warrior, I knew I didn’t. It took every ounce of willpower I had to hold his stare without flinching.

  “I want to know your story. The Ireland part.”

  Finn let out a low menacing chuckle. I gulped when he moved toward me, backing me against the counter like a panther caging his prey. He looked intimidating and downright scary. I tried to smile but I couldn’t do that and maintain eye contact at the same time.

  “Ireland, eh? That story is over.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Something happened to make you leave. You didn’t want to go. I can tell. Maybe it’s the past…over and done, but it haunts you. You said you know what guilt feels like, the way my mom does. I believe you. You feel guilty and I—I want to know why.”