Page 28 of Flag On The Play
She steps closer, like instinct is pulling her forward.
“I’m sorry, Finlay.”
The way she says my name, soft, sincere, and free of sarcasm, nearly undoes me. I haven’t heard it like that in a long time. Maybe ever.
“Thanks for coming,” I murmur.
“I won’t stay long,” she says, glancing around like she’s worried about overstepping. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you.”
I look at her. I really look.
And even though this day is heavy with grief and what-ifs and lost time, there’s something about seeing her here, uninvited but somehow exactly where I need her, that anchors me.
“Hey, Nova?”
“Yeah?”
I hesitate.
“Stay. Just a little longer.”
Her lips press into a thin line, like she’s debating it. But then she nods.
“Okay.”
And somehow in the middle of death, regret, and heartache, I feel something shift.
Like maybe this isn’t an ending.
Maybe it’s the start of something I didn’t know I still had hope for.
CHAPTER 9
NOVA
“It was heartbreaking.” I swirl the wine in my glass before finishing what’s left and reaching for the bottle again. “We weren’t neighbors long, but I’d run into them every now and then when I was in town. His dad always remembered me. Always smiled like he knew something I didn’t.”
Roxy and Delaney are leaning in, eyes on me like I’m telling some kind of scandalous bedtime story, but this one doesn’t come with a happy ending.
“I never understood, or maybe I just didn’t care enough to ask why Finlay was never around. I just figured he was too busy being, you know, Finlay.” I shake my head and pour another glass. “But when I heard from my mom that his dad had cancer, I went to visit. Just once.”
Delaney’s brows rise. “You never told us that.”
I shrug, the memory still sitting heavy on my chest. “Because nothing really happened. We didn’t talk about anything exciting. Just weather, polite smiles, small talk. But when I was walking out, he said, ‘I don’t have time to make things right, but you do.’”
Delaney reaches out and places her hand on my knee, her touch gentle and comforting. “That sounds like the kind of thinga dying person says when they’re looking back on life and trying to find peace.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “But it stuck with me. I didn’t know what he meant at the time. I figured he had regrets, sure, but not that the regret was Finlay. Not that it had anything to do with me.”
Roxy leans forward, one hand dramatically clutching her chest. “Are you telling me a dying man told you to forgive his dickhead of a son?”
“I think so, yeah. I think that’s exactly what he was trying to say.”
Delaney’s eyes soften again. “He probably saw something in the two of you that neither of you wanted to admit was there.”
Roxy scoffs. “Or he saw her dancing in Finlay’s VIP booth and assumed they were halfway to eloping in Vegas.”
I shoot her a glare. “Rox. I visited him long before that.”
