Apparently, she’d muted her real life long enough.
It was getting restless.
chapter
TEN
Finn dumped a load of sheets into the washer, music blasting from his phone, and poured in detergent. The mundane task was a soothing ritual he’d performed a number of times over the last few days while making the lake house livable. Livable first, and then he’d start working on the minor repair issues. He’d told his friend who owned the place that he’d get the house in shape so that it could go on the market in the fall. The guy thought Finn was doing him a favor, but Finn needed that kind of physical work to keep from going stir-crazy. Hopefully, it would work.
After two years of always being on the move, of being in life-or-death situations, of needing to be on alert one hundred percent of the time, he was having trouble getting used to the quiet solitude of the lake house. Logically, he knew he needed the downtime, but his body craved the adrenaline, the challenge. In between chores, he’d tried to substitute punishing workouts and long runs around the lake to feed that part of him. But he still couldn’t fully settle down.
Finn turned the knob to get the sheets going, and the loud rock music he’d been playing cut off, interrupted by a text message notification. He grabbed his phone from the laundry room shelf, expecting a check-in from his boss or a reminder to call in for his weekly chat with Doc Robson. Instead, he saw a different name lighting the screen: Olivia.
Liv: How goes it, Batman?
The simple message curved his lips, the sight of Liv’s name an odd relief, like taking a full breath after a long run. He flipped off the light and stepped out of the laundry room. He hadn’t heard from her in days beyond a brief chat soon message, and he’d started to wonder if their conversation in the car had been all talk, if she’d come to her senses. His thumbs moved over the screen.
Finn: Is this u checking on me to make sure I haven’t mounted the head of a desk clerk on my wall?
Liv: Basically
He chuckled in the quiet kitchen, the setting sun’s rays cutting orange stripes over the granite countertops.
Finn: His head is still attached though I suspect there’s not much in it
Liv: Good job. Everything else ok?
He hated that she was worried about him, hated that he’d given her reason to be. That was not who he was. He was the one who took care of things, the one who handled whatever came at him no matter the circumstances. Not the guy who couldn’t be trusted to control his actions.
Finn: Yep. Haven’t left Wilder. Just getting the place ready for habitation. My friend hasn’t stayed here for a while, so lots of freshening up to do. And now I sound like my grandmother…
Liv: U should get some potpourri & needlepoint throw pillows
Finn: Hush, Arias
Liv: What about a creepy Jesus painting? My grandma might’ve cornered the market on those, tho
Finn: Creepy Jesus might be awesome
Liv: No! *Still has nightmares of his eyes following me around* Jesus is watching, man. WATCHING.
Finn laughed as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and then made his way to the living room. He opened the bottle and stretched out on the couch, his mood lifting at the image of Liv reacting to his last comment, eyes big and smile wide.
Finn: Fine. No creepy Jesus. U have no sense of style. So R U going 2 B seeing my needlepoint pillows soon?
Liv: Is that flirting?
Was it? Probably. Even though he wasn’t supposed to be doing that with her. For some reason, he couldn’t help it with Liv. It didn’t even have to be sexual—though who was he kidding? That was always there. But she made him…playful.
No one who knew him now would describe him as playful.
Finn: I get all the girls w/ my needlepoint. Just wait til I show u my crochet.
Liv: My eyes just substituted a totally different word for crochet
Finn: Now who’s flirting?
Liv: Am not! UR a bad influence