Page 54 of The Moment He Couldn’t Walk Away

He’d just slept with Nina and felt…. In fact, he had no words, only feelings. Relaxed for the first time in forever. He shouldn’t feel that way. Finch should be scared shitless over what he’d done, but he wasn’t. He felt different. Not good, exactly, but better.

They were adults, and adults slept with each other occasionally. There was nothing more to it than that. It had been an itch that they’d both needed to scratch today. Tomorrow, they’d just get on with their lives.

But fuck, that had felt good. She’d felt good in his arms, her body under his. Finch had a feeling that memory would never leave him.

He drove through Lyntacky slowly, past cars parked outside eating establishments, raising his hand when someone waved. Reaching the end of town, he headed toward his parents’ place.

Nina’s name had once been Christina Falcon. Her father was a criminal. Her mother had left him and changed their names and gone on the run. He was now out of prison and could come looking for his daughter. Could any of this be connected to someone entering her house and trashing it, or what Finch thought he’d seen there, or was he reaching there?

Finch was someone who often saw every scenario in a situation. It was how his mind worked, and that was why he’d asked if Nina’s mother had brought something to Lyntacky her father may want.

The man had been imprisoned for a long time, so surely if he’d wanted to know about Nina and her mother, he could have tracked her down before now? Maybe he had and had known where she was for years? That thought sent a chill through Finch.

He didn’t know if the man was still bad. Didn’t know if Nina was in any danger from him, but due to his untrusting nature, the thoughts and what-ifs continued to roll around inside his head.

Finch pulled into the cottage driveway, parked, and then sat there, studying the wisps of white smoke coming out of the chimney and hitting the cold air. So much had changed since he was last here only a few hours ago, and so little at the same time, he thought, looking around him.

His parents had been gardeners since he was old enough to understand what a weed was. They’d taught their kids how to plant and nurture seeds and bulbs. They never had a pattern for planting. They just put things where it felt right. None of the McAllister kids were particularly green-thumbed, but he’d noted that since coming back here, Birdie and Blue Jay were more into it now they had families of their own.

He headed inside.

“Hey,” his brother said, looking up from his guitar that was never too far from his hands. He wore socks their mother had knitted for him, track pants, and a sweatshirt now.

“You writing something?” Finch asked, going to the kitchen and pulling out a soda. His brother shook his head as he raised the can.

“Just had one, thanks. Yeah, messing around with some lyrics.”

He stood where he was and drank deep, maybe needing the hit of sugar to steady him.

“Just going to change,” Finch then said and went into his room.

Stepping into the shower after he’d stripped off his clothes, he let the hot water run over his body. Felt it touch everywhere she had, and the memory aroused him, so Finch washed quickly and then turned the water to cold. He got out, dried off, and dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“Have you eaten, Lynx?” he asked, heading back into the kitchen.

“Not yet. I wasn’t hungry after all that food at Circle Left.”

“I can do grilled cheese?”

“Cool.”

He got to work, and when he was done, Finch wandered to where his brother sat on the sofa. He set a plateful of grilled cheese sandwiches on the table before them and dropped into a seat.

Lynx put down his guitar and the notepad and pen balanced on his knee. He then began to eat alongside Finch.

He was starving and hadn’t realized how much until he’d eaten the first piece in record time.

“So. Nina,” Lynx said, sitting back in his chair.

“I took her home. She’s fine.” Finch took another bite and hoped that was the end of the questioning.

“You sleep with her?”

He didn’t choke, but it was a near thing. He picked up his soda can and drank deep. “What kind of question is that?”

“One from a brother who watched you two today. You kept looking for her, and she was the same. Then, you just walked into the house, looking happier than I’ve seen you since I came home.”

“Bullshit,” Finch said, reaching for another grilled cheese. Not much put him off his food. “We had a moment before the service started where we talked and stuff. I told her I didn’t like being in a room with a lot of people, and she gave me a hug. No big deal.”