Page 13 of The Golden Hour
“I really handed him his ass, didn’t I?” she asks, smiling sadly as she turns toward me. “Go ahead, ask me why.”
“You said why. For your sister.”
I look outside. Across the narrow lane, Finn gets into his rental car. He doesn’t turn it on but merely sits there, staring out the windshield with his hands clenched on the wheel. And though I try not to feel anything, sympathy rises in me.
“That wasn’t the real reason,” says Molly on a pensive sigh. “Meredith would have no problem telling him no herself—if she ever gives him a chance to ask. He has some serious groveling to do before that even happens.”
Surprised, I look at her. “Why, then?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Her troubled eyes meet mine. “The poor boy is hurting and I sent him away with angry words.”
“You’re scared,” I tell her bluntly, glancing outside to see that Finn has driven away. “And you were right to discourage him. It’s no accident his investigators failed. He doesn’t have any idea what he’s up against.”
Molly gazes at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Then it’s all true? The Avellinos are modern-day mafia?”
I shrug, my stomach leaden. “Not really. I don’t know. They might be worse.”
She draws a slow breath. “If he keeps after this…”
I nod, confirming her worst fear.
“You have to talk to him, Calli. Please. Tell him whatever you have to. Make him drop this.”
I think of my uncle, the fever in his eyes as he plotted against his family. Finn’s eyes held the same light.
He won’t stop until he’s dead, and if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that there’s absolutely nothing I can say that will sway a man hell-bent on righteous revenge.
But I owe Molly, so I tell her, “I’ll try.”
8
Solstice Bay is a small town, and there are only so many places to go. I check the motel first, but his car isn’t there, so I drive through the center of town, then to the cove. It’s not much—a small stretch of grass and a weathered stone bench sitting above a tiny, rocky inlet. The larger bay, which most of the town’s economy depends on, is four miles south.
The weather has taken another turn, the winds picking back up. The sky is a distressed, gunmetal shade. No rain yet, but dark clouds sit ominously on the horizon.
Perfect for a doomed conversation.
Finn sits on the bench, elbows on his knees as he stares at the intersection of the sky and his thoughts.
I park behind his rental car and get out before I can talk myself out of what I’m doing. It’s for Molly. I owe her.
But as I walk toward him, my hood up against the cold wind, I can’t help but notice the broad swath of his back, the powerful shoulders, and I can’t help remembering the way he kissed me, like he was staking his claim on more than my body.
By the time I reach him, I’m not cold anymore. Even though he hates me, is disgusted by my very existence. Even though he’ll never touch me again… my body still wants to finish what we started last night.
He looks up as I enter his line of vision. Steeling myself, I meet his cold blue eyes. Sadly, the vitriol pouring out of him isn’t the turn-off it should be.
I clear my throat. “Can we talk?”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Gravelly, tired voice, thick with resentment.
“Okay, but I’d still like for you to hear me out.”
“About what, exactly?”
“My fucked-up family, for starters, and that going after them is a bad idea.”
His eyes narrow. “Molly sent you.”
