Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
When I walked inside, I saw Finn in the kitchen, standing next to a tall redhead.
“Oh. Hi,” I said, an awkward heat already rising in my chest.
I’d only been here for a day, and already, I was walking in on Finn with a woman.
“Christina, this is Ori,” Finn said, pushing his hair back as I walked into the kitchen. “Ori and I were good friends growing up. He’s staying with me ‘til he finds his own place back here in town.”
Finn looked like he’d dressed up, which basically just meant he was wearing a light-blue fitted sweater rather than his usual T-shirt, jeans, or flannel.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.
“I was just heading out,” she said, “but I hope you two have a good night.”
“Thanks for coming over,” Finn told her, leaning in to give her a quick hug.
“No problem at all, Finn,” she said. “Enjoy the jams. See you around, Ori.”
She headed out the front door, grabbing a small cardboard box that had been near the entryway as she left.
I shifted awkwardly.
I wanted to encourage him to date, not put a damper on it. I felt like I was in the way, and definitely like I’d interrupted something.
When she was gone, I turned to Finn.
“So I guess I caught you after a fuck session, not before?” I asked, trying to make a joke and cut through the tension in the air.
“Neither, smartass,” Finn said, heading back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbing a jar of jam and spreading some on a fresh piece of bread. He took a big bite, humming to himself. “God, this is good. Try this.”
He handed it to me and I took a bite. The jam had a fresh flavor, probably the best one I’d ever had.
“Damn. That really is good. Is that just regular grape jam? Where is that from?”
“Christina makes them herself. All sorts of different fruit flavors. She’s good at that stuff.”
“She should sell these.”
“I tried to tell her that, too, but she doesn’t have time,” Finn said, taking another bite. “She’s always at the hospital. She’s a pediatrician.”
“Jesus Christ, Finn,” I said. “You’re hooking up with a woman who’s nice, beautiful, great at making jam, and a fucking doctor? You’re the luckiest guy in Tennessee.”
“Not hooking up. Ex-girlfriend,” he murmured, polishing off the last of the bread.
“Oh,” I said.
He gave me a look.
“What?” I protested.
“Assume much?”
I rolled my eyes. “You could have told me earlier that she was your ex. Not my fault I assumed you two were fucking each other’s brains out before I walked in.”
“What was I supposed to say? Ori, this is Christina, my most recent ex? We broke up because she’d rather date her hot doctor colleague?”
Damn.
There was an iceberg of history underneath the things Finn said, sometimes.
I wished he would just talk about things with me again, like he used to, but… as usual, everything had changed.
“I mean, you could have mentioned something,” I said.
Finn breathed deep. “We broke up a few weeks ago. She needed to grab some clothes she’d left here. End of story.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Well, maybe there’s a lot of shit you don’t know about me, these days.”
I paused, feeling the barb in his comment. “I know the important stuff.”
I felt like he was thinking something that he wouldn’t say.
For the first time in years, when I looked at him right now, I saw Finn—the Finn I knew, not just some guy trying to look like a cowboy.
Weirdly, it made me soften a bit to the idea of his Western-style clothes and cowboy hat, though.
Like maybe, he was using that style as a sort of armor.
Maybe it made him feel like he was a part of something, like he belonged somewhere. In high school he’d had the football team, but now, he needed somewhere to belong.
Finn had always needed that.
“Sorry I assumed, then,” I told him. “And sorry it was a rough breakup.”
I reached into the fridge and grabbed one of the bottles of electrolyte water that Finn always had near the front. I took a sip of the cold, lemon-flavored drink and Finn leaned on the kitchen counter.
“Not as much of a sob story as you’d think. She did want to date the hot doctor, but I also…”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You weren’t really into the relationship? You were happy to drop her like a hot potato?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Not quite. I’m not like you.”
I furrowed my brow. “Hey, just because I don’t do commitment doesn’t mean I didn’t respect the guys in LA.”
He puffed out a laugh, looking at the floor. “I know. You told me, last Christmas. You always treat guys well, and you let them know it’s no-strings-attached.”
I was surprised Finn remembered me saying that.