“What do you want, Finn? What exactly do you expect happens now? That I jump into your arms and we spend eternity together?” She looked at him in desperation. Kill the need. “That’s not possible, so … what is it that you want?”
He wet his lips and darted his gaze to the side. There was an opening to a back corridor right beside them.
Without replying, still gripping her wrist, he pulled her to cross those few feet with him.
As soon as they turned the corner into the corridor crammed with boxes and frames, she stopped. Again, she found herself with her back against the wall, literally and figuratively.
Why was it that, every time they were in close proximity, it felt as if no time had passed? As rare as their meetings had been over the years—she could probably count them on less than ten fingers—and as little as they could talk or even be next to each other on those occasions, it always felt like they were frozen in a time capsule, just them.
His hard chest touched hers. In her high heels, they were almost the same height. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs, her gaze glued to his blues.
“First of all, yes, that’s what I want. You, in my arms, for eternity,” he exhaled.
She shook her head. “I don’t have to tell you, Finn—”
“Jane,” he said in a cut-it-out tone.
“Anne.” From almost anyone else, it’d be an affront. Not from him. From his mouth, her old name was a declaration of love that she couldn’t accept. “Let go of me, Finn.”
“I’m not holding you anymore,” he said.
Only then did she notice that her wrist was free.
“I know you’re not seeing anyone.”
She let out a dry scoff. “Do you really think that’s the only thing that stands between us?” She remembered the Christmas she had brought Tom.
“I know it’s not.”
Maybe a reality check would help. She could use the reminder, as well, because Finn, in this proximity, made reality slip for her, too. Not only was her need for him not obliterated, it exponentially grew, which only made it imperative that she slew it.
“Do you really want to rip your son’s family apart?” she asked.
He swayed back. It worked.
“Max is the only reason I didn’t come to you until now. But I don’t fucking know what to do anymore. I love you, Jane. I love you, Anne, okay? I tried to unlove you. For years, I did my fucking best to stop, to forget, to move the fuck on. But I can’t. It all comes back to you.”
She just stared at him. His words were hers, the ones she didn’t utter.
“Do you think this is easy for me?” he asked when she kept quiet. “Do you think I don’t know how messy this is? Especially with Avery. She’s … I’ve been in competitive sports all my life—I know healthy competition when I see one—and she’s … not it.”
She felt guilty for wondering if Avery had gotten pregnant and married him just a few months after her younger brother had married his high school sweetheart because it was some sort of a win she had to exceed.
“You have more to lose than I do.” She knew the moment she said it that those words gave away her weakening resolve, but he could use the reminder.
Finn pressed his lips for a moment and his gaze drifted to the wall behind her. She knew these reminders were working. He then looked at her again with steel-blue eyes and flattened one of his palms on the wall next to her shoulder, caging her in.
“Do you still love me?” he demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. And it’s been years, Finn.”
“It matters to me. Do you love me?” His eyes pierced her.
She wet her lips, trying to stall for time. His gaze dropped to her lips, and God help her, she felt that between her legs.
“No,” she lied.
“I don’t believe you,” he gruffed.