one because my grandmother taught for years and I thought my dad would take pride in it.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But he didn’t express any pride, and I found myself in a career I didn’t love because I tried to live for someone else.”
“And do you love it now?” he asked. “Or would you want to make a change?”
Did she?
“There are parts I do love,” she said. “And there are parts that are the worst, but any job is like that, right? It’s never going to be one hundred rainbows and unicorns all the time.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“So, now I’ve redirected the conversation completely back to me,” she said. “I was trying to say that just because the trauma didn’t happen to you, doesn’t mean you weren’t affected.” She put her hand up. “And that’s not to discount your sister and her trauma because that’s what’s most important. It’s just this kind of stuff . . . isn’t singular, you know? A rock being tossed into a lake creates ripples, and those ripples flow and move over objects in their path, and they can be changed.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, and that probably doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re wrong.”
Her gut sank. “I—”
“You’re not rambling,” he said, leaning forward again and cupping her cheek. “Once again, I’m just amazed by your ability to take something so tangled and misshapen in my mind and put it into words.”
“Well, if the words are working, then I’ll take it.” She smiled.
He bent to brush his mouth across hers. “They’re working.” Another brush. “Also, you’re amazing.” He nipped her bottom lip. “I hope you’ll at least take that.”
“Finn.”
He ran his fingers along her jaw. “It’s true, Blue Eyes.”
Her heart swelled, warmth spreading out and filling her from head to toe. Just being next to Finn, being held and touched by him was wonderful. And being able to talk to him about things both important and not made it even better.
“I like you, Finn Stoneman.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, because I like you, Shannon Torres.”
More warmth. More . . . heat.
Propelling her into confidence, into doing something she’d never had the courage to do before.
She made the first move.
Leaning forward, she closed the distance between their mouths and put every single bit of warmth and heat and like for this man into that kiss.
His tongue slipped between her lips, rubbing against hers, sending sparks of need throughout her body as his arms wrapped tightly around her, and they kissed and kissed and kissed. Eventually, they broke apart, chests heaving, her pulse pounding in her ears. She rested her forehead against his, breaths mingling, the space between her thighs wet and aching. Finn’s honey eyes had deepened to amber, and the sight of them staring hotly at her made her desire ramp up even further.
But Rylie was down the hall.
And . . . she wasn’t ready.
So, she shifted in his embrace and reached for the remote. “I like you, Finn Stoneman, but I think I like you even more with those extra thirty pounds of muscle.”
He grinned, tucked her against his chest, and stole the remote.
“Then I guess I’d better take advantage of that six months without carbs in any way I can.”
He hit play, and they watched the end of the movie cuddled together.
For the record, Finn might not think the film would change lives, but he was absolutely wrong.
Because it had already changed hers.
“I’m sorry, Beatrice,” Shannon said into her cell a few days later. “But I can’t cover your club tomorrow”—like she always did. Shan swore she might as well be the leader for how often she ran the sessions—“Rylie has an important dance class that she can’t miss, and I promised her teacher that I would video the girls.”
A beat, probably because Shannon wanting to please everyone in her world hadn’t just begun and ended with the men in her life.
She bent over backward for everyone and to her own detriment.
Well, that had ended.
“Can’t someone else film?” Beatrice asked.
“Sorry, no,” Shannon replied.
“But—”
“I need to go,” she said, pausing only to say a quick goodbye before pocketing her cell. She smiled as she walked toward the railing of the deck, leaning back against it, feeling the cool, salt-tinged air coat her skin, listening to the crash of the waves. Yeah, it felt good to have a backbone.
Good enough that she didn’t care if Beatrice was mad and gave her the silent treatment. Good enough that she thought she could