Page 14 of Songbird
Finn raises a thick eyebrow at me as he straightens from the refrigerator and swings the door closed. “Definesafe.”
I hold up my palms in surrender. “No more nakedness. I promise.”
He grunts quietly. “About dinner. I don’t have much that isn’t gluten or dairy or meat, but I could whip up an acceptable omelet in less than ten minutes.”
My stomach rumbles, and I remember I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I also haven’t eaten anything not pre-approved by a nutritionist in the last six years.
“You know what?” I reply. “I could really go for a cheeseburger.”
His jaw actually drops. It’s cute. “Are you serious?”
My stomach growls again and my mouth starts to water. “Oh yeah. A big one. And I don’t suppose you’ve got the fixings for a strawberry shake?”
He gives me a curious half-smile as he retrieves a carton of milk from the fridge and a tub of strawberry ice cream from the freezer. “Thought I was the only person over the age of twelve who still liked these things.”
There’s nothing halved about the grin I give him in return. “Looks like there are at least two of us.”
I offer to help him cook, but Finn insists on doing everything himself, so while I sit there and sip on a frothy pink milkshakethat may just be the best I’ve had in my entire life, I try to carry the conversation.
“Your place is nice,” I say. “Comfortable. Kind of… small? I don’t mean that as a judgment. More of an observation. Like it was only ever intended for one person.”
“Two,” Finn says as he flips the burgers, and then transfers two golden buns from the toaster to plates.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s small because it was built for two people. It belonged to my mom and dad.”
I wait for him to elaborate while he assembles the burgers and carries them to the table, but when he takes a seat and then a bite, and it’s obvious he’s not going to volunteer more, I risk a little nudge.
“So… your parents,” I begin as I pick up my burger. Oh Lord. It smells so good. “What are they like?”
I almost abandon any care I ever had about Finn’s personal life as the first mouthful of beef and cheese hits my tongue. And the bread. Oh my God.Bread. The second, third, and fourth bites follow in quick succession, and I think I might have actually moaned by the entertained look Finn’s sending my way. He hands me a napkin, and I wipe the grease from my fingers.
“They were the best,” he says, and I have to think back through my food-induced ecstasy to remember my question. “But they passed a long time ago. Mom eleven years. Dad nearly two years after that.”
“Oh, Finn.” I set what’s left of my burger back on its plate. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“And this place? It was theirs?”
“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?”
“Honestly?” I pick at the last mouthful of my dinner, first sneaking the remains of the burger to the drooling Labradorunder the table, then popping the last scrap of bread into my mouth. “I’m tired of talking about myself. I’ll have to do a lot of it over the next few weeks, if not for the rest of my life. I could do with a night off.”
Finn watches me for a long moment, long enough that I lift my chin self-consciously, but then he drags a napkin over his mouth, leans back in his chair, and folds his large arms across his broad chest.
“Yeah. This place belonged to them,” he says. “Silver Leaf Ranch & Vineyard, but also this bungalow. They ran the entire operation here while raising five kids, so Dad built the cabin as a hideaway for him and my mom. Somewhere to go where he could fish and she could read. It was supposed to be a guest rental, but they never actually rented it out.” He scans the cabin with thoughtful lines around his eyes. “I think it was too special to them to share with anyone else.”
“That’s beautiful,” I reply softly. It’s sad Finn lost his parents, but he’s so lucky to have had them at all, and I get the sense he knows it. And for as long as they were alive, Finn was surrounded by love. I can’t count the nights I prayed for that as a little girl. “And five kids? That’s a big family. Are you still close?”
Finn snorts quietly, but the tug of affection on his lips makes me want to smile too.
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” he says. “My eldest brother is Chord Davenport—the pro-hockey player?” He waits for me to acknowledge the name, and I do because I’ve met him twice when he’s stopped by Violet’s studio. “He and Violet are based in San Francisco now, but he has a house on the property. My older sister, Charles, and younger siblings, Dylan and Daisy, all live up at the main house. Dylan’s daughter is there, too, and his new wife, Poppy. It’s a little crowded, but everyone’s happy.”
“So, you’re the middle child,” I tease. “That explains a lot.”
Finn responds with mock offense, eyebrows high and amusement tugging at the side of his mouth. “And what does that mean?”
