Volatile. Code word for more deadly. Finn could feel the adrenaline already, the need to personally dismantle those responsible for taking so many lives. For ruining his. Liv’s.
Liv.
The thought was like a punch to the stomach.
“Can I count on you, Dorsey?” Billings asked, his voice stern. “No one’s going to go after these assholes like I know you will.”
Finn peered over at Liv, who was crouched down to take a photo, her back to him, and he felt like he was being ripped in half. His stomach hurt. His brain was spinning. And his heart ached.
He forced his attention back to Billings. “I need to think.”
To his credit, Billings didn’t push any further. He nodded. “Let me know by tomorrow morning. I have our flights booked for late afternoon.”
Finn nodded, numb. “Got it.”
Billings reached out and gripped Finn’s hand in a firm shake. When Finn moved to pull away, Billings held on for an extra second. “I’m glad to see you’ve got your head back together, Finn. I’m sorry you’re going to have to leave someone you care about, but I’m grateful she dragged you back from the edge. I was worried about you there for a little while. Good work getting back into fighting shape.”
Finn looked away. He didn’t feel together at all. No, he wasn’t flying off the handle anymore, but this…this may be worse. “Thanks.”
Billings left with that, heading back across the short grass of the outfield. He passed right under the sign that said LONG ACRE MEMORIAL FIELD. ALWAYS IN OUR HEARTS.
Finn sank onto the bottom bleacher and put his face in his hands.
chapter
TWENTY-FIVE
Liv tilted her camera and looked at the screen. The angle she’d chosen had captured the rich oranges and pinks that reflected off the water from the sunset but didn’t take away from the greens of the trees or the main focus of the shot. She’d caught Finn’s silhouette in frame. A dark outline of a broad-shouldered man looking out at the water. Still. Stoic. Wild Silence—that’s what she’d call the shot.
Finn didn’t know she was photographing him. She’d told him that she’d be in the kitchen, throwing together a salad to go with the steaks he was going to grill tonight. But the sunset had been too good to miss, and when she’d seen him standing there, she’d been compelled to capture the moment. At first she’d assumed he was enjoying the view, but now looking at the shot in still frame, she noticed different details, sensed melancholy. A ripple of worry went through her.
She’d gotten that gloomy vibe from him off and on since the photo shoot with Rey that morning. He hadn’t shown it when he knew she was looking. But his smiles had seemed thin, his jokes scarce—so unlike what she’d gotten used to. Since that night they’d said the l-word, Finn had gone all in. No more brooding. No more tense conversations. They’d been spending long summer days hanging out, taking photos, strategizing about her new business, and making love in between. But today, she’d felt a reserve in him, like she was seeing him through a thick pane of glass.
She’d asked about it over lunch, but he’d shrugged it off and said he was fine. Her gut told her otherwise.
After she snapped one more shot, she set aside her camera and walked down the path toward him. Her shoes crunching on the dry grass had ever-vigilant Finn glancing back. When he saw it was her, he graced her with a dimpled smile, but his eyes betrayed him. Whatever he’d been feeling lingered there for a moment before he turned back to the water. “Hey, gorgeous. You’re just in time for our nightly sunset.”
Our. The word settled in a place that felt far too comfortable. A place she liked far too much. They were developing routines, rituals. Shared things. Even though she understood this was temporary, being here with Finn had seeped into her psyche more and more, making this feel like…home.
“Yeah, it’s a pretty one tonight, even though it’s still eleventy billion degrees out here. We could probably cook dinner without the grill.”
Finn grunted. “Texas in July. Where you can see beautiful summer sunsets and cook a steak on the sidewalk at the same time.”
“That should be the Department of Tourism’s new tagline.”
“Definitely,” he said, but his light tone seemed forced.
“But I’ll take this. Before you know it, we’ll be complaining about the ice storms.”
Something wary flashed in his eyes, and she realized her mistake. She cleared her throat. “I mean, I will. You won’t be around by the time the ice hits. Lucky you.”
“Liv—”
She forced a smile, even though her throat burned. “What? I know we don’t talk about it much. But it’s not a secret that summer will end in a few weeks. You won’t be here for the winter.”
He turned to her, face unreadable. “About that. We need to talk.”
“We do?” Hope swelled in her chest. She didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but for weeks she’d been secretly hoping he’d reconsider, hoping he’d push his leave out further, hoping he’d do something to stay. If he wanted to talk, maybe… “What’s there to talk about?”