“No,” she whispered. Breathing in the cool night air, exhaling away the emotion she refused to succumb to, she said, “I’m sorry. Nothing you did. Well, nothing you did wrong. I’d suspected Nate was doing more than working late. Odd things he’d say. Sometimes he’d smell different, like he’d just showered and it wasn’t our soap. Occasionally he’d wake me up and try to start something, but usually he’d stay at the far end of the bed and claim he was too tired if I tried to start something.”
Finn didn’t move, didn’t speak, but simply let her speak.
“So, when you came in and cuddled up, nothing you wanted or didn’t want, if that makes any sense… And you smelled…” She paused, not wanting to sound needy, but knowing she needed to say it out loud. “You didn’t smell like someone else. You’ve got this invigorating scent like the alpine air at the top of a mountain, but it’s cozy at the same time.”
He chuckled softly. “And here I thought I smelled like sweat and sausage and stale liquor.”
Her breath coming easier, her pulse no calmer from thrill rather than fury, she laughed. “That too, but… in a good way.”
“We could go take another shower. I’ve got lots of shower fantasies.”
She couldn’t help but laugh again. “Maybe in the morning. I’m sorry for unloading on you. I think that might be against the rebound rules. Aren’t we supposed to keep things light?”
He moved close and sat behind her, wrapping his legs around either side of her, his arms linked around her middle. “I think that’s the reason for a rebound. There’s a lot of baggage that needs unloading, and the rebound is supposed to help you find yourself again.”
“I like that.” She leaned into him, drawing in his heat, his unaffected affection.
“Haley?”
“Yeah?”
“While you and I are doing what we’re doing, until we’ve said we’re done with this, I have no intention of being with anyone else. Besides, I don’t know how anyone finds the time, or the deviousness it takes to string people along like that. Or why. I mean, I understand holding on when it should be over, I’ve been there. But if the sex isn’t incredible, if the conversation isn’t stimulating, or even something as basic as interests not aligning and it’s not working, break the fuck up.”
“Finn? I like you.”
He laughed and kissed her shoulder.
“Busy night tonight?”
“Not at all, actually. Pops swung by to get hammered, but, instead, he and Zoe blitzed me.”
“Ouch. How come?”
“Worrying that I’m going to ostrich my way through life. About not expressing how much life has sucked the last six months. Losing my career, then having that grieving process completely obliterated by losing Mom. Working long hours at the pub, getting together with my old girlfriend and then blowing it. Hell yeah, I miss football, but I knew it was going to end someday. I like the pub. I don’t know that I want to move across the country to coach, but I guess I’ve never tried. I miss football. More than anything, I miss Mom like crazy, but I don’t think there’s anything I can or want to change about that; that’s part of losing a loved one. Why would I want to let her go?”
His hands rested on her thighs, his thumb mindlessly tracing circles on her skin. He continued, “At first, we all were frozen, not wanting to touch anything of hers or even admit that she was gone. I didn’t leave the house for a while, didn’t call anyone. Then I gradually followed the path of least resistance, tending bar most nights, hanging out with my family, my ex. Your brother and the guys started dragging me out of the house. Things let up a bit. Still, I didn’t have enough in me to balance a relationship, so I got dumped. Eventually, my family, we sort of cleaned everything of Mom’s up in a frenzy; I packed all her books and crafts and other stuff no one else would use. Zoe cleaned out her closet. Most of it was donated, other stuff put up in the attic.”
“You got dumped in the middle of all that? Awfully callous of her.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I mean, yeah, it kind of was, but she dumped me rather palliatively, like she knew I wasn’t up to giving her what she needed, so she let me off the hook. I was a shitty boyfriend. Honestly? She was ready to pick up right where we left off, like we hadn’t grown into adulthood without each other. Lucky for us both, she recognized I wasn’t capable of being there for her, that I was still working on finding myself again, so she ended it.”
“You know what I like about you?”
“What’s that?”
“You got dumped in the middle of huge life changes, and instead of being angry or resentful, you’re complimenting the woman that did it. As long as you’re not blaming yourself, I admire your lack of negativity.”
“I could. But that wouldn’t get me anywhere either.”
“When my dad died, about a year or so after Nate and I got married, I fell apart. Depressed, angry, it took months before I felt like me again. I still miss him like crazy and have an occasional rough day thinking about how things should have gone. I think it’s okay to grieve how and when you need to. I think losing him and not letting myself accept it, that’s part of why I let go of myself, why I became what Nate wanted. I was too busy missing Dad and isolating myself and eventually, Nate was all I had left, and he wasn’t worth it. I could blame myself for not standing up formesooner, but I completely, one hundred percent, no shadow of a doubt, blame Nate.”
He chuckled, “Tell me how you really feel.”
She leaned into him, his bristly cheek caught her hair as he kissed her temple. “Okay, so I wish I had confronted him sooner, that I had recognized that he was gradually knocking down the parts of me he didn’t care for, manipulating me to be what he wanted. I can’t say he did it intentionally. But, well, he was the asshole that didn’t give a damn about my hopes or needs.”
“I want to meet him.”
“What? Why?”
