Page 73 of Off-Limits Love
He lingered over the doing, the pad of his calloused thumb stroking the shell of her ear with a tenderness that matched the look in his gaze.
“I’m in therapy,” she blurted out, shocking herself and apparently Finn with the admission, if the shift in his expression was anything to go by. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, except that it’s helped me sort through some things and get a different perspective, I suppose. Just— I hope you are the kind of man Sam believes you to be. And I’m sorry if I insulted you, but life with Brad— I admit it messed with my head, and I tend to see everything through Brad-colored lenses these days.”
“B-bad things?”
The husky timbre of his voice gave her another pause. That and the question asked with a compelling stare that drew her like nothing had before. “Yeah. But I’m figuring out that I’m stronger than I think—and I’m protective of those I love. So, please, do not hurt Sam. And don’t pretend. With me. To like me. It’s not necessary.”
It meant so much to her that Finn and his family had stepped up for her. Even if he had other reasons for doing so.
She forced her gaze up to Finn, and the expression on his face left her floundering.
That thumb of his stroked over her ear again, and a shiver raced down her neck and brought goose bumps to her skin.
“N-not p-pretending.”
A part of her warned her to pull away and keep walking. Reminded her that she couldn’t call him a friend and tell him no and still let him be so…familiar.
But for the briefest moment, she allowed herself to lean her face into his touch before she forced herself to pull away and walk again.
Finn fell into step beside her, the horses trailing behind.
“I w-was in th-therapy for a while too. The horses h-helped more.”
And since maybe that was a safer subject, she grasped onto it with both hands. “Your stutter started after the accident?”
A tight nod was her answer, and the fact he’d had such a physical response to the tragedy wasn’t lost on her.
People responded in their own ways, whether with anxiety or bravado to get through the moment or—stutters full of pain. “What happened? Can you talk about it?”
The words came out of her before she could stop them, but a glance up at Finn’s jawline told her she’d struck a nerve. “It’s fine. You don’t have to. Some things are too painful to discuss.”
They traveled several more steps before she heard him exhale.
“W-watched them d-die.”
The words were said in such a low voice she barely caught them with the sound of the water and the birds and the sandy clomps of the horses’ hooves. But she heard them. And her heart broke for him all over again. “Finn, I’m so sorry. You were…in the car? In the accident?”
Another nod.
He couldn’t have been more than a child when it had happened. At the birthday party for Hudson, she’d been regaled with stories of Alec, the oldest of them, raising them from the time he’d turned eighteen. Given the number of siblings between the two men and what she guessed to be their ages, she’d place Finn at around twelve or thirteen when it happened.
She smoothed a hand over her stomach, fingers twisting in the hem of the tank she wore.
“I…w-watched,” he said. “Trapped in th-the b-back.”
She turned toward him then and practically flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist. She pressed her face into his chest.
Finn stiffened at first, but then his arms surrounded her, and she panted out a breath when he returned her embrace too tightly. Like he’d needed a hug badly, and it had been too long. “I’m so sorry, Finn.”
They stood like that for a long moment, but she didn’t let go. Couldn’t bring herself to.
Because no matter their differences, no child deserved that. No person. She hugged the boy he’d been, the one so traumatized by what he’d seen and experienced that he’d lost the ability to speak properly, and the man still carrying that burden to this day.
Mak pictured Emi in his stead, and her heart broke all over again. “You blame yourself, don’t you?”
She wasn’t sure where the thought came from or how she knew it was true, but she did. She felt it in the way he held himself so rigid, and the pain in his gaze when she lifted her head and stared up at him.
He leaned low and rested his forehead on hers.
