Page 42 of Wood Riddance
I took a step back, needing to put more space between us so I could pull in a lungful of air that didn’t smell like him. There was something intimate about examining a person’s ink, and his thick, ropey forearms were, like the rest of him, frustratingly masculine and sexy.
“I am,” I said, snatching my rag off the table. “Big fan. America’s most badass president.”
He stood perfectly still, grinning at me as I busied myself. “I’m also a big national parks lover.”
My traitorous stomach flipped then. Why couldn’t he be awful? Why couldn’t he be obsessed with video games or something equally off-putting?
If he really was a national parks nerd, then I’d officially lose my shit. Between the forearms and the compliments and the Teddy Roosevelt deep cuts, I was already dangerously close to reenacting that kiss. Throwing in a love for our country’s parks would be a total disaster.
But the shop was clean, and every tool was in its place. It was time to lock up and get as far away from Finn Hebert as I could.
He had other ideas. “Acadia was my first. What was yours?”
“U Maine offered these freshman orientation trips. There were a bunch of options, but I had never been out west, so I chose a backpacking trip through Rocky Mountain National Park.”
It was an expensive endeavor, but I begged my parents. My dad was easier to convince, and, thankfully, he’d helped me convince my mom. He always had my back, especially with Mom, who had always been overprotective of me. But he’d done it, and then he’d driven me to Bangor to pick up a hiking pack and supplies, making me promise to take lots of photos of the trees out there.
The memory never failed to bring a smile to my face. God, I missed him so much.
“The park is spectacular. I was only eighteen, but I was totally obsessed with all of it. The history, the geology, even the rangers. I wanted to soak up every single detail. It’s not only about the vast untamed wilderness, you know? It’s about the planning and preparation and infrastructure that go into protecting the place and making it accessible to people.”
“America’s best idea,” he mused, crossing his arms. “My ultimate destination is Denali.”
I gasped. “Me too. But in the lower forty-eight, I’d say Glacier is at the top of my list.”
“I’ve never been, but the glaciers are melting, so you should go soon.”
My heart lodged in my throat at the thought. But I shrugged, ready to move on. Before Dad passed, I’d take two weeks off every summer and travel. The summer before we lost him, I hiked and camped in Yosemite while obsessing over the redwoods. But for the past few years, I hadn’t felt like I could take time off. Even in the slow season. Things at Gagnon Lumber were so hectic, and even now, while the financial side had improved, things had still been rough.
“Sure thing. I’ll gas up my jeep,” I snarked.
“I mean it. Take it from me. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in your life and develop tunnel vision. Work, sleep, eat, laundry, taxes. On an endless loop.”
I scrutinized him where he stood on the other side of the table. The man who had given up his dreams for his family. Who was hanging on to a life he didn’t want because he was putting his child’s needs ahead of his own. A man who was living in the shadow of his father and facing the consequences head-on.
“When you’re standing in the wilderness, it’s easier to remember that the world is so much bigger than you. It allows you to appreciate all the things you miss when your world is reduced to the monotony of daily life.”
My throat was thick, and words had escaped me. I had always categorized Finn as a meathead. Never, until this moment, had I realized how deep and thoughtful he was under the Viking warrior exterior.
So, to calm my racing heart and force the emotions bubbling up inside me to recede, I settled for grabbing my bag and getting the lights.
Silently, he followed me out and escorted me to my car.
Once I’d found my keys, I climbed into the driver’s seat. Twisting at the waist, I reached for the door, but he leaned in, resting his hand on the frame of the jeep above my head.
“We’re not as different as you think, She-Ra.”
Chapter13
Finn
Ileaned back in the chair, desperate to get out of this room and move. But Gary, our lawyer, droned on. Though it was a Friday evening, we had assembled at the Hebert Timber offices because Gary had information about the case against Dad and its impact on the business.
Owen was on speakerphone again. He’d phoned in from his office in Boston. Cole hadn’t bothered to even acknowledge the text chain. Neither had Noah. So only Gus and Jude and I were stationed around the table in the massive conference room.
When we were kids, headquarters was located in an old warehouse. It was a good size but full of scuffed desks and those printers that required continuous form paper—the kind that fed in one long chain, where each page was separated by perforations, as well as the edges.
About a decade ago, Dad and uncle Paul had built this place. Dad called it a “campus,” which the rest of us thought screamedpretentious. The office building looked like the set of one of those lawyer dramas my mom loved to watch. This conference room was bigger than my apartment, and the shiny mahogany table could easily seat twenty.
