Page 48 of Love Bound

"You can tell them," he says, wincing slightly as he settles on a barstool. "I have no pride."

"You should be proud of everything you do," says Cory as he flies a boxy airplane around the small sky above his head.

"Not this, my man." He glances at my sisters and then me.

It takes half an hour to wrap up what happened over the last two days and both Laurel and Devon rise to stare out the kitchen window at the gaping hole in the roof.

"It’s going to be tough finding someone to help you with that," Devon says. "But I can get up there fine."

"Damn it, Devon." I can’t help myself.

She just ignores me and rushes on. "But I'd have no idea what to do. You need that weather-tight."

"I called Nic, my business partner, and our friend Bryce. They'll be up tomorrow to close it up. And Jackson may show."

Laurel is all about the facts. "What did you do? I mean before this?"

"I ran my own business for a while and then gave it to Nic," Finn says.

"You mean you sold it?"

"Yeah, that's right. I sold it." He shifts slightly, pain flickering across his face, and the Russo sisters are on alert.

"We should go," says Devon.

I suddenly don't want to be alone with him. Not now. Not after that kiss. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

Laurel shakes her head. "We've got pizza dough that needs toppings. Count to ten, Cory, and then we have to go."

As Cory loudly begins his transition countdown, Devon rises, folds the throw back up, and pats me on the arm before descending the stairs.

Once the Legos are secure in their plastic container, Laurel and Cory follow with Cory hollering out a fierce, "Nice to see you! Again!" before the door slams.

From the edge of the sink window, I can see them walking down the road back toward town. Salty watches them too, and after throwing some swordfish in the oven and draining potatoes for mashing, I head out a few minutes later to take care of him.

It takes about a half hour to hay and grain him, and the horse seems genuinely glad to see me. I try to touch him again and he lets me stroke his neck. I hope by next week he'll let me trim those hooves again, without anesthesia. It’s bitter out again though and in just the few minutes with the gloves off, my hands are numb.

By the time I'm back inside, Finn's sitting on the ottoman poking at the fire. He's cleaned up and smells like my shampoo, all vanilla and soap, and the hallway is warm and damp from the shower. I strip the sheets in his room— Chloe's room, my kid room—and spread clean blue cotton ones. By the time I come back out into the living room, it's dark outside.

Now Finn's on one of the sofas, a knee cocked, his ankle on the other knee, a novel resting on his thigh. "You okay?" he asks, rising slowly, stiffly, but then moving with a grace that’s truly breathtaking. He rounds the kitchen island. "Your dinner's hot."

The surprise must be on my face "Did you eat?"

"No. Not yet. Tomorrow," he says with such authority, I don’t question it. He reaches in with an oven mitt, removes a plate, peels foil from the top, and sets the dish down on top of a tea towel at the counter. "Wine?"

I nod. My hands are thawing. I think other parts of me are too.

I clean up my plate while he returns to his book and savors a glass of wine. The comfortable-old-sweatshirt quality of the evening is not wasted on me.

Finn isn't leaving, and now I don't want him to go. With the electricity still off, The Inn will be an icebox. Ralph Burke and David Keller had come through this morning and wrapped the pipes most near the foundation, so Finn wouldn't have to deal with broken pipes, but one more day of no electricity and there would be little anyone could do. Emily had gone to every sink, turned the water on to drip, and left all the cupboard doors open.

If I don’t want him to go, then what do I want him to do?

He reaches absently for his wine glass, and as I stand at the sink washing up, I realize I'm slippery in all those dark places and a dull ache begins to throb just at the edges of my sex. I straighten my back in a weird defiant gesture to myself.

I know exactly what I want him to do.

I just don't know how to ask for it. How to trust it. How to trust myself.