This marriage was accidental.
And neither of us is gay.
Or at least, Finn isn’t. The awkwardness that has filled me this past year, doesn’t stop when I’m in Finn’s presence. My gaze drifts to his body more often than I’m comfortable with, more often than I want him to know.
And though I can talk to Finn about lots of things, I can’t talk to him about this.
There’s no going back from the statement that maybe you’re not actually that straight, that you would be open to...more.
I don’t want him to have to awkwardly explain that he doesn’t feel that way, and I don’t want him to wonder if I enjoyed his kisses too much. God, I’ve seen the man naked before. I don’t want to make the man who has been so kind to me, so kind to my parents, uncomfortable.
Finn is still acting strange. His jaw is tight, his body stiff. Maybe he’s upset he can’t simply topple into the bed. Why he wants to make conversation about Abby is beyond me. But I’m not going to deny him anything.
“I don’t miss her,” I admit. “I should have missed her, right? But even though I didn’t consider splitting from her, I wasn’t distraught or anything when she told me she wanted to leave herself open for someone new and that she didn’t see me in her future.”
“Oh.” Finn’s shoulders move down a fraction.
“She was smart and sweet. We rarely saw each other. She was busy with pre-med, and I was busy with hockey. I liked having someone to call at the end of each day, but that was mostly what it was in the end. Maybe we didn’t work hard enough to go on dates. Maybe we didn’t care.”
“I’m sorry,” Finn says.
“It’s okay. She was a good person and enhanced my life. But she wasn’t my forever. And I don’t think I ever was crazy about her, even at the beginning.”
I frown. Obviously, I’ve said too much. Finn doesn’t need to hear that my longest relationship was not passionate.
But when I look at him, he’s smiling, and maybe I said what I needed to say to make him happy again.
“You’re a passionate guy.” He winks.
I find my cheeks warming and I force myself to the laugh, but the sound is awkward, no doubt because of my tightening chest. “We gave Coach a show.”
“He’s probably still scarred.” Finn slips into the bathroom, and I try to chuckle, but my chest remains tight, and the sound doesn’t come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Finn
The light filters from the curtains, as it’s done a thousand times before since I moved into the apartment three years ago.
But this time is different.
This time, a warm body is pressed beside me.
And though that’s not a novel occurrence, generally my hookups leave my bedroom after our athletic activities and endorphin rushes are over.
I’m the master of hinting that Coach wants us to have a super early morning, and my hookups are generally experienced enough to not expect me to call. Other players are better bets as future boyfriends.
I have too much of a reputation for them to give me much serious consideration.
So when a warm body is wrapped around me I don’t think much of it. But when I turn, it’s Noah I see. Noah who has burrowed himself into my arms.
My breath catches, and I don’t pull away. Instead, I find myself studying him. I examine the swoop of his cheekbones and nose, and the fullness of his lips. Lips that I’ve kissed. My lips stretch upward, remembering my shock in that elliptical room. The kiss had been good. The kiss in the locker room for our teammates had also been fucking good.
Noah breathes evenly. My arm is wrapped around him, and if I were to slide away, he would wake up.
So I don’t.
I nestle against his warm skin, and I examine the way the light flickers over his short dark hair.
