“Want to continue our game?” he asked, tearing his gaze from hers.
Her face lit up. “Uh, yeah, because I think I was about to witness your demise.”
He stood slowly, carefully allowing his leg to adjust to his full weight. “Okay, let’s move it to the kitchen table if you don’t mind,” he said, picking up the board.
She started gathering the cash. “Not at all, but careful you don’t lose our spots.”
He let the pieces slide on purpose.
She let out a shriek that had him laughing like a kid. “Finn!”
“Don’t worry. I have a photographic memory. Do you remember who had what hotels where?”
She made a strangled noise. “You’re not going to win by cheating. Look where that got you last time—on your butt in the snow, surrounded by firewood.”
He crossed the room, not even bothering to hide his limp. There was basically no point in hiding anymore. “What are you talking about? I’m just a poor firefighter who was injured when I crashed through a floor as I tried to rescue a child. Now, I’m just a shell of the man I used to be and have to hide in a remote cabin in the woods with a beard to mask my sadness.”
There was silence for a second, and then Melody burst out laughing. “That’s shameless. You’re the same man. The same man you were. Just…grumpier. And possibly more diabolical.”
He flashed her a smile. “Thanks.”
Melody marched right by him and started setting up the pieces at the table. “Nice try. I can identify manipulation when I see it. You’re forgetting who raised me.”
That was funny. But it also wasn’t. In fact, if she was ever comfortable enough to tell him, he wanted to know more about what she’d been through. Maybe talking to him about it would help like talking to her had helped him. There was a painful insecurity that she tried to keep hidden, and it bothered him to realize that she was so hard on herself.
He also knew that she was probably still embarrassed about their own brief history. He wanted to right that. He didn’t want her misinterpreting his rejection even though it was so many years ago. “Hey, do you remember the time you asked me to go to prom and I said no?”
He cringed at how that came out. It was probably so out of left field, and he should have broached it with a little more delicacy. Her face turned bright red, and then she covered it with her hands. “If this is a strategy to throw me off my Monopoly game, that is very shrewd and cold, Finn. Not at all what I’d expect from you.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, filling the gap between them. He gently pried her hands from her face. She stared up at him, her face bright red, but her eyes were filled with gut-wrenching humiliation. He regretted every inaccurate assumption he’d ever had about her. He held her hands in his, and for a second, he thought she was going to pull away from him and just leave.
“No, you don’t have to be sorry. I do. I’m sorry I asked you to go to prom with me. You were right—it wasn’t just because I wanted to go with you. I mean, I would have loved to go with you—I thought you were amazing—but I had no time for guys or friends. My entire life was focused on getting my mother’s approval and being better than Molly. I was even jealous of Molly and Ben’s relationship. That’s why I asked you to prom. Because if Molly had Ben, then I wanted you.”
Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked rapidly and took a labored breath. “If I had known everything that was going to happen after, then I would have been a better person. I would have been a better sister to Molly, and then maybe she wouldn’t have had to go through what she did alone. Maybe I could have spared her everything,” she said, and this time, the tears actually spilled from her eyes.
When she made a move to run from him, he pulled her into his arms. She was as stiff as a board for a moment, and then she wrapped her arms around him and cried. It was the only time he’d ever seen her cry or be emotional, and he held onto her tighter because her pain affected him. Her self-loathing was painful to witness. She had been going around carrying all this guilt and blaming herself for what her sister had endured.
“Hey,” he said, unable to stop himself from letting his lips graze over the top of her head. “You are way too hard on yourself. Everything that happened in your life led you to the person you are now. You thought I was amazing? Well, I think you’re amazing, Melody. Your sisters love you. You are not the girl your mother forced you to be, and it’s not your fault that you were ever that way. You were set up to fail, and you have to let go of that guilt. It’s not who you are now. It’s hard to change. And you did and you need to give yourself some credit for that.”
He pulled back slightly to look at her. His first mistake was raising his hands to cup the sides of her face, telling himself that he was only trying to be a friend, to be there for her. “The prom thing is water under the bridge. I said no to you because I didn’t think you weren’t interested in me, and I knew it was some kind of a plan that had nothing to do with us.”
His second mistake was grazing his thumb over her cheekbone and pulling her closer instead of stepping back.
“Thank you for being so kind to me,” she whispered.
He frowned. “I’m not being kind. That’s actually what I think. You don’t see yourself the way the rest of the world does. The way I do.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Finn…”
He clenched his teeth, his gaze going from her eyes to her mouth. He couldn’t remember a time in his life he’d wanted to kiss a woman as much as this. A time where he’d wanted to just stay in one moment because it felt so right. But he couldn’t walk away from her without telling her the rest, without her believing him. “If you asked me now to prom, I’d say yes. If you asked me for anything right now, I’d say yes.”
“Finn,” she whispered again, his name sounding more like a plea, making him forget all the reasons this was a bad idea.
His third mistake was slipping his fingers into the silky hair at her nape and slowly lowering his head, his lips brushing against hers. “Mel,” he said, half hoping she’d pull away and all their problems would be solved.
But she didn’t. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tasted and reveled in a moment he’d never expected. But Melody was so much more than he ever expected. He deepened the kiss, and she pressed her soft curves against his body, like she trusted herself with him. He left one hand in her hair and let the other roam over the side of her body, wanting more. She’d reached a part of him he’d thought was gone, lost in the fire along with so much of him. She pulled at his heartstrings and drew him out of himself. He stopped thinking about himself and his problems when he was around her. He was able to enjoy the moment. With her.
She ran her hands down his chest and up his arms, and he knew that neither of them planned this and neither of them could really take this further because it shouldn’t go further. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
He slowly, and with excruciating self-discipline, leaned back slightly. But her eyes were filled with desire and her cheeks flushed, and it made him forget about self-control and their family. He leaned down and kissed that soft spot beneath her ear. She made a soft sound that ignited a fire in him that he was going to have to ignore. Because even though she’d pretended her entire life that she was so tough, he knew that deep down she hid an insecurity that was dangerous. They had different goals, different dreams, and these feelings weren’t real. They were here because they were forced in this cabin together. Just the thought of her helping him off his ass robbed every ounce of desire he had.
He pulled away, trying to not act like a jerk, like he was rejecting her. “We should probably stop.”
She blinked, her eyes focusing, her pink cheeks turning an even deeper shade. “Right. Of course. Um…because we’re a fake couple. We have to do better at remembering that.” She backed away from him and turned to the board.
“Right.�
��
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his own thoughts and insecurities railroading through him. He wasn’t the same man. If one thing had led to another, they would have made it to the couch. How would he have even gotten on the couch? And then what? Everything he was once capable was now…unknown. He ran a hand over his jaw. The thought of not being a real couple didn’t sound as funny as it did a week ago.
“I think I’ll just clean up the game and stuff. Maybe another beer, too,” she said, the awkwardness in her voice almost making him cringe. He hated himself because he’d just finished apologizing for prom and telling her that if she asked for anything he’d say yes. He was an ass, and he should never had said that. It implied…things. Things that couldn’t happen. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know about that haunted look in her eyes, why she had left the hospital. And he wanted to know who she did end up going to prom with. But none of this was his business.
He opened his mouth to tell her that he was sorry. For all of this. But there was nothing he could say that would make any of this better. “Good night.”
She held his gaze, chin high, her green eyes glittering with pride.
He didn’t want to walk away, but he did.
Chapter Eight
Melody watched Finn walk away, feeling like she’d just had everything she’d ever wanted taken away from her. Tonight, laughing with him…and then kissing him…yes, he was everything she didn’t know she wanted.
She had never had a better night in her entire life. She had never felt so comfortable with someone else. She felt like he accepted her just as she was. And she liked who she was when she was with him. She liked him. She liked kissing him. No, she loved kissing him. Kissing Finn had been even better than she’d ever fantasized. It was one of those experiences she’d read about—weak knees, racing heart, and complete loss of control.
Except he’d had control. He’d been able to end things between them. Even though he’d said in that deep, mouth-wateringly raspy voice, If you asked me now to prom, I’d say yes. If you asked me for anything right now, I’d say yes.
That should have been the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Except it was the end of something that could never start. It was the end of something that had always been one-sided. He’d been this cute, popular, happy-go-lucky guy who would never be interested in her. She wouldn’t even know what to do with all that happiness anyway. Maybe that’s why now he’d spared her a second glance—because life had thrown him a nasty curveball. It didn’t matter. None of what happened in this Hallmark cottage in the woods mattered. She was leaving Shadow Creek. She couldn’t go back to that hospital or her mother.
She stood in the empty room, the fire just a small flicker of light. The draft from the storm blew through the room—or maybe it was in her head. Maybe it just felt cold because Finn was gone.
She never should have confided in him about Molly. She had exposed too much. Everything. At least that was how it felt. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she grabbed a blanket off the couch.
Finn walked back into the room, and she held her breath. The room was lit just enough that she could make out his features. Finn was all good angles, all the time. “I forgot about the fire. I’ll throw on a couple of more logs. Doesn’t look like the storm will let up anytime soon. I guess you could sleep on the couch in here. I’ll check throughout the night to make sure there’s enough wood on the fire.”
She huddled further into the red, Sherpa-lined blanket. “You don’t have to do that, but thanks.”
He nodded once. “I’ll grab a flashlight and go to bed,” he said, not sounding anything like the Finn who’d kissed her. Now he was back to sounding like the Finn when she’d first arrived at the cabin.
“Aren’t you going to be cold?” she blurted before he could leave.
He stopped, holding a flashlight he’d taken from the cupboard atop the fridge. “Nope. I’ll be fine.”
“Oh.”
He let out a rough sigh and shoved one hand in his pocket. “Mel?”
“Yes?” She tried to sound nonchalant, even though she could feel his mood had shifted.
“Who did you go to prom with?”
Her stomach dropped and rolled as a wave of nausea hit. It was one thing to have been shut down by him and an entirely other thing to admit the entire humiliation surrounding her prom. “Oh, um, you know…I didn’t bother going. Who actually goes to their own prom anyway?” she asked, tempted to lift the blanket over her head and hide like a child. But because she couldn’t do that, she sat still, at one with the nausea and humiliation as he slowly walked toward her.
“Why didn’t you go?” His voice was raspy, his face drawn. She kind of hoped he’d sit on the couch opposite her, because she was pretty sure her humiliation was palpable. But no, Finn sat right beside her, his elbow on the back of the couch, leaning toward her like they were…something.
She averted her gaze. “Is there any brandy left? I think the beer has worn off.”
He reached out and grasped her hand. “Hey, it’s me, your boyfriend. You can tell me.”
She stared at his larger hand on hers, relished its warmth and strength. When was the last time someone reached out to comfort her? She didn’t know what to do with that. She didn’t know how to lean into what he was offering, to let herself be completely honest. And the, “Hey, it’s me,” meant something. Like Finn was an “it’s me,” and she’d had so few of those in her lifetime.
She tried to shake off the embarrassment. He had to know enough about her mother through Ben to not be too surprised at this. “No one else asked me and, um, going by myself would have been too humiliating. I didn’t really have a lot of time for friends in high school. Or guys. Or, you know, basically anything half normal,” she said with a sharp laugh that sounded high-pitched and awkward to her ears.
The sympathy that flooded his eyes comforted her. That was a first. There was no judgment as he looked at her. There was just that delicious warmth that made her want to believe that they could be something together, that made her feel like it was okay to be vulnerable, that he was safe.
He reached out and framed one side of her face with his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t say yes.” He leaned forward and kissed her.
It was over a heartbeat later when he pulled back.
Disappointment shot through her, and she held his gaze, deciding she didn’t want to end this. She didn’t want him to leave and go to bed. And she didn’t want to stop talking to him. For the first time, maybe since she’d learned that she always had to be perfect, she wanted to confide in someone. Finn. Because she knew he wouldn’t judge her. “I don’t want to go back,” she said softly.
His brows pulled together. “Shadow Creek?”
She nodded. “Or the hospital.”
He put his hand on her thigh, the warmth seeping through her, the gesture intimate and sincere. “What happened?”
She turned away. She had thought she’d be able to just say it, to just blurt it out because he was so easy to talk to. But the reality, the vividness of the memory, rose to the surface with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for. “I screwed up so badly, Finn,” she said, her voice breaking.
“No, you didn’t,” he said, squeezing her thigh gently, leaning forward so that she was forced to make eye contact with him. He had this faith in her that was so immediate and so genuine and so addictive that she didn’t want to keep speaking. She wanted to sit in this spot where she felt wholly and completely accepted. She wanted to cling to the feeling of someone believing in her. But she had to tell him the rest of it. She had to talk about it.
She pulled the words from deep down inside. “I should have known. If I could go back…maybe I could have been faster. I could have gotten that baby out sooner,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, but then was just tormented by the image of the operating room. O
f the baby. Of the parents. The sounds that shouldn’t have been there, the sounds that should have but weren’t. There was no baby’s cry.
“What happened?” he asked, roughly, pulling her closer to him, and she willingly accepted everything he was offering, accepting someone else’s strength for once.
“She was my patient; she’d just been in for her weekly check-up four days earlier, and everything was fine. She was thirty-eight weeks pregnant. Strong heartbeat. No complications. She was young and healthy…and then…then they came into the ER that night, and I was on-call. They were worried because she hadn’t felt the baby move in more than twenty-four hours.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he placed his arm on the nape of her neck and kissed the top of her head, not saying a word.
“We rushed her in for an ultrasound, and it wasn’t good. There were very faint vitals, and I knew we needed to do an emergency C-section, and even then…I knew the chances were slim. I did everything, Finn. Everything. We all did. The entire team. We were so fast, so focused…but when I pulled that baby out…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. She had been so alone for so long, so alone in her need to be perfect that she had forgotten just how much she needed people. Or maybe it had been Finn she’d needed all along. He pulled her onto his lap, and for the first time, she didn’t care that she wasn’t pulled together; she didn’t care that she was crying in front of someone.
“That wasn’t your fault, either,” he said, his lips rasping the top of her head as he spoke. “You know the statistics. You can’t take on that kind of blame.”
The relief in hearing him say that tugged at the rope she’d hung herself from the day that happened. There was a weightlessness that made her feel alive again, like when she was a little girl, on those rare occasions she’d sit on a swing and soar as high as she could, imagining what it would feel like to fly. She had been trapped for so long.
Snowed in with the Firefighter (Shadow Creek, Montana) Page 10
