Chapter Twenty-Two

After a week of peaceful awakenings, the afternoon came with a rather abrupt start that Aiden wasn’t mentally (or physically) prepared for. With the shutters drawn closed, the bedroom was still steeped in a dull light. It could have easily been mere minutes since they’d arrived home, but by the sounds of the banging on the front door it was anything but.

“Bugger,” groaned Finn as he rolled out of bed. Aiden watched, bleary eyed, as he shrugged on a pair of shorts on the way out, leaving him in the comfort of the sheets.

Comfort that was soon interrupted by a not-so-quiet arrival a few moments later.

“You’re still here,” a soft, accusing voice said from the door.

Blearily blinking, Aiden lifted his head, Millie coming into focus.

“Hey, Millie,” he said, clearing his throat and propping himself up in the bed. “How was the dentist?”

From the front door, not far away from the bedroom window, he could hear the low voices of Finn and presumably Imogen talking. And as much as a part of him was curious about what was being said, by the look on Millie’s face he was in for his own important conversation.

“Are you sure you’re not like Isaac?” she asked, straight to the point.

“Isaac?” Aiden parroted. Clearly his confusion was palpable, even to Millie, who quickly clarified.

“Mum’s boyfriend,” she said, perching at the edge of the bed.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Aiden recollected the entire conversation he’d had with Finn about this man through the haze of morning (afternoon?) brain.

Aiden was going to have to be careful here.

“We’re friends,” Aiden said eventually.

“Mum said that if you’re sleeping in the same bed, then you must be doing things that people who are together do.”

Aiden blanched. “Did she say what things?”

Millie shook her head, and Aiden could breathe once again. “No. But I know what it is.”

Aiden ceased breathing again.

She blinked owlishly at him. “You’re watching those scary movies I’m not allowed to.”

Exhale. Aiden slumped back into the bed, rubbing at his forehead.

“Well…” Aiden cleared his throat, grappling for how to play this off. “I didn’t want to take your bed without asking, and”—Aiden leaned in close, conspiratorially—“I think your dad was afraid of breaking it.”

Millie’s stern expression broke for a fraction of a second, giving way to an amused smile. Then immediately back to judgy eight-year-old.

“If your dad was dating someone, he’d tell you,” Aiden said, hands clasped in his sheet-covered lap. “You two are close, right?”

Millie clutched her school bag to her chest. “He tells me everything.”

“Exactly. You’re the most important person in the world to him.” That, Aiden could say with absolute and utter certainty, and he hoped that Millie could pick up on that. “And I should have asked you if it was okay to stay here. It’s your home, too.”

Aiden was gambling a little here. For as well as Millie seemed to get on with him the previous week, that was in a different setting. Away from her home, apart from the space she shared with her dad—the space that Aiden was infringing upon.

“Is it okay that I stay?” he asked. “If you say it isn’t, consider my bags packed.”

Millie pondered, tapping her finger to her chin in a way that Aiden had seen Finn do once or twice. If anything, it just made her more endearing. Even if he was potentially about to be banished back to Ryan’s house.

“Do you want to see my garden again?” Millie asked instead, throwing Aiden off guard.

“Yeah.” Aiden smiled softly. “I was wondering about that kangaroo paw.”

Millie pursed her lips, weighing the merit of his reply. “They are great. But Mum got me succulents, so we need to plant them.”

Exhaling with a soft laugh, Aiden lifted his gaze to meet Millie’s—the concern that had troubled her before was long gone, instead replaced by unmistakable excitement to show off her new succulents.

“I’d love to help.”

Helping with planting quickly turned into Millie asking for more topsoil. If Aiden wasn’t so caught up on being confused about what made topsoil different from regular soil, then he would have been impressed by her gardening skills. Especially the fact that she could identify exactly what the garden needed.

Finn, as he emerged from the house with a pinched expression, was obviously no stranger to Millie’s soil demands. “Dad, we need to go to Bunnings.”

“Hm?” He rubbed his scar absently, eyes flicking to his daughter. “Why’s that?”

“My succulents need topsoil. You don’t want them to die, do you, Dad?”

“And I need to find out what topsoil is,” Aiden said, on his knees in the dirt with regular soil dusted across his palms. “Because I am severely out of my depth here.”

That was the moment Aiden realized something was wrong, that something happened inside. Finn clenched his jaw and didn’t once turn to Aiden.

“I think Aiden has a thing on today, sweetheart,” he said instead with a curl of his lips. “Maybe another time. But you and I can still go?”

That message was clear as day.

I don’t want you to come.

“Shoot.” Aiden hit his palm against his forehead, blinking when some dirt sprinkled over his nose. “Completely forgot about that thing.”

Millie was dubious. “What thing?”

“He has to get some gifts to bring home,” Finn said, arms crossed over his chest. “Isn’t that right, Aiden?”

Aiden stood up, brushing his hands against his shorts. “Completely. Big shopping list.”

“Huge,” added Finn with a sage nod.

“Then we can give him a lift. Right, Dad?”

Finn looked moments away from crying out in frustration, so Aiden (heart hammering in his chest so damn loudly that he feared everyone could hear it) gestured back toward the house and said, “I’m just gonna chat with your dad for a sec. Then we’ll see.”

“I know what we’ll see means,” she said, mirroring Finn’s arms across her chest. “It means no.”

“Not always.” Finn paused, contradicting himself. “But this time it is.”

Before Millie could voice another complaint, and Aiden had no doubt that she would, Finn followed him inside and toward the kitchen. Close enough to the door that Finn could keep Millie in his sights, but far enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation.

“Did I do something?”

“No.” The muscle in Finn’s cheek jumped. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Taking a breath himself, because Finn seemed to be as confused as Aiden felt in the moment, he clasped his hands together. “Okay, let’s backtrack. Everything was good this morning, and then Millie came and…?”

“That’s exactly it. Millie came, and she wouldn’t stop talking about you all week to her mum.”

At first, Aiden felt flattered he’d managed to win over the unwinnable. There was something said for engaging with a kid and their passions (and maybe the bike thing). But then he caught Finn’s expression, and apparently winning Millie over wasn’t a good thing.

“Oh. And that’s a problem?”

Aiden hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question, but there was a lift to the end of his words.

“I don’t want Millie getting confused. She’s already had to cope with Imogen’s new bloke, and that took a while. And then you swan in, make a hell of an impression, and—”

It didn’t take long for Aiden to fill in the gaps. “Imogen is afraid that Millie thinks I’m like Isaac, that I’m sticking around long-term.”

Relieved he didn’t have to explain further, Finn sighed. “Yeah. That.”

“I get that you’re concerned.” Aiden was careful to tread lightly here. He wasn’t a parent; he could only try to empathize with a father’s concern, and even then there was the risk of overstepping. “But Millie is a smart kid. And we might have already had a talk about this.”

Finn looked out to Millie gardening away, his shoulders growing less tense at the sight. “You have? When?”

“When Imogen was scaring the living daylights out of you.” Aiden hesitantly reached out to take Finn’s hand. “I told her that we’re friends who watch scary movies together, and that you would tell her if we were something else. She’s okay, Finn.”

“I…” Finn exhaled again, ignoring the curled strands of hair that fell into his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Aiden pressed, squeezing his hand a little.

“Yeah.” Finn kissed his teeth, bobbing his head in a nod. “Yeah, okay. I’m overreacting.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.” This time, Finn squeezed back. “Imogen has this innate ability to get in my head. Crafty devil, she is.”

“She’s just concerned.” Aiden clutched his chest, willing his heart rate to return to normal. “I’m sure you were when Isaac first came on the scene.”

“’Course. But the difference is that Isaac’s a prat.” Finn smirked, head cocked to the side. “And you put in a lot more effort.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Aiden countered, nodding to Millie, who was sat in the middle of a dirt pile. “She’s a star.”

“Uh-huh. Something like that.” Finn wavered a moment, shaking his head at his daughter. “Y’know that’s how she assesses people, right?”

“Gives them the third degree?”

“Judges their gardening abilities,” replied Finn. “I’m not allowed to water anything.”

“So does this mean I can come with? I am really curious about topsoil.”

“All right, yeah. But you’re going to be disappointed.”

While Aiden might have been disappointed learning that topsoil was indistinguishable from regular soil, Millie was enamored with showing him around the garden center and schooling him about all things botany. And even more so when Finn conceded and bought a tall tree that decidedly wasn’t topsoil. Hauling it into the backseat of the jeep, Millie asked, “Can we go on the boat?”

Keeping his gaze ducked, guiding the base of the tree into the trunk without covering the floor with dirt, Aiden had one ear on the conversation.

“Not today, sweetheart.”

Displeased, Millie crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not?”

Finn faltered, but that might have been because of the red-leafed tree slipping from his grasp. “We have to plant this tree you wanted, yeah? Not enough time for both.”

“There’s enough time.”

Pursing his lips together, Finn took a drawn-out breath and threw a patient smile his daughter’s way. “In the car, missy.”

“But Dad—”

“I don’t wanna hear that tone until you’re sixteen, minimum,” said Finn, shooing her into the car, shaking his head at the affronted grunt sent his way. “I swear, the teenage years are going to murder me.”

Aiden tried for comforting, even if he could clearly see Millie (already strong-willed and stubborn). But he understood Finn’s hesitance, if Aiden was reading the room right. Having his daughter on a boat recently deemed unsafe went directly against Aiden’s theory about Finn being an all-round Papa Bear. “At least you have Tam and Adie going through the same thing.”

“They’re a year behind with Dylan,” Finn said, slamming the trunk shut with a resounding click. “Anyway, he’s too docile of a kid.”

“I don’t know.” Aiden shrugged, holding open the driver’s door for him. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“Let me guess.” Finn dipped his head in a thankful nod at Aiden’s motion, holding him there with a leveled stare, as though trying to size Aiden up. “You were one of those quiet kids who wreaked havoc once the hormones kicked in.”

“One word.” Aiden locked him in that gaze. “Emo.”

“No.” Smacking the wheel, Finn threw his head back with a heaving laugh. “With those cherubic curls?”

“Cherubic?” Aiden stressed, unsure whether to be flattered or affronted.

Finn’s expression revealed exactly which one he intended it to be. “In the back, angel-face. Need you to be on tree watch.”

“Not if you call me that,” replied Aiden, getting into the back alongside Millie regardless.

“How about honey?”

“No.”

“Sugar-bear?”

“I will throw myself out of the car.”

“Don’t do that.” Millie frowned, small hand braced against Aiden’s arm to stop him. “You have to help plant the tree first.”

“Then,” Finn managed through shuddering bursts of laughter, “you can boot yourself out the car.”

While Millie distracted herself with checking on the condition of the tree in question, eyes dancing across the leaves jutting between them, Aiden raised his middle finger and held it pointedly at the rearview mirror.

Finn threw a wink right back at him, and Aiden couldn’t bring himself to feel annoyed. Not when this was how his day ended, with such a rocky start. He and Finn were still okay.

They still had time.

Later that night, with Millie tucked in bed (head full of three extra stories and one more lullaby because Finn clearly didn’t know how to say no), Aiden was caught red-handed lingering outside the door.

Arms crossed over his chest, a soft smile on his face, he murmured, “Glad to hear ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’ made a resurgence.”

“I have exactly five songs in my repertoire,” said Finn, leading Aiden back toward the kitchen. “I was running out of child-friendly options.”

Delightfully curious, Aiden asked, “What’s the non-child-friendly option?”

Finn deliberated for the briefest of moments, placing his hand on Aiden’s elbow to draw him farther away from Millie’s bedroom before he said a word. “It Wasn’t Me.”

“Like the Shaggy and RikRok song?” Aiden bobbed his head from side to side as he recited the only line that lingered in the deepest crevices of his mind.

“Yes, that one.” Finn braced a hand against his forehead, looking mildly embarrassed. “I loved it in high school, and it stuck. Completely went over my head that it was about cheating.”

“I mean,” Aiden said, maintaining a straight face with a great deal of effort. “It is annoyingly catchy.”

“And—” Cutting himself off, Finn paled as his expression dropped. “Fuck. Aiden, I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

“What’re you…” Realization dawned on him, and, once it did, it took some time for Aiden to fully recover. Maybe not in the way that Finn expected him to, bypassing crying over the unintentional reminder that he walked in on his boyfriend and sister having sex, or anger over the mistake. Instead, Aiden laughed until his ribs ached in protest, until he was red in the face, until Finn sat back against the kitchen island to wait for him to finish up.

“Thanks,” Aiden eventually managed, winded. “I needed that.”

“Feeling better?”

Finn looked at him with his head tilted to the side, arms crossed over his chest and a tender expression over his handsome features. Aiden knew that question didn’t pertain to his recent lack of oxygen, and for that he appreciated it all the more.

“Much better.” Aiden held out his hand and beckoned Finn to him. “I want to listen to it.”

“The song?”

“C’mon, show me more of those dad moves.”

Finn’s collection of dad moves was decidedly more expansive than his song list, and once again Aiden was rendered breathless—cheeks aching and chest burning in the best of ways, dancing together until the low-playing music had long since ended. The only thing that stopped them from silent discoing the rest of the night away was Finn’s phone buzzing in his back pocket. He pulled away with an apologetic expression before tucking it between his ear and shoulder.

“Ryan. How’s it going? You got my text, yeah?”

With that, Finn made his way out the front door for some privacy. And because Aiden wasn’t nearly as good a person as he tried to be, he crept over to the window to listen. Not prying had landed him in shit before—maybe there was something to be learned from being nosy from the get-go.

Through the open crack in the window, Aiden could just about make out Finn’s low voice, trying to piece together a one-sided conversation with no way of hearing Ryan on the other end.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s a bit shit,” Finn was saying with a humorless chuckle. “And on your road trip, I know.”

Finn sighed, trailing away from the window. Aiden cursed beneath his breath, quick to lean even closer to listen in.

“No. I don’t have a plan.” Another one of those bitter laughs. “Kinda bad timing on my end, too.”

Aiden hooked his fingers on the windowsill, peaking over the edge to catch a glimpse of worried pacing.

“Unless we can pull fifteen grand out of our arses, I don’t see where we can go from here.”

Aiden couldn’t stop the stunned “fuck” that slipped free. It had to be about the boat.

Sure, it wasn’t in great condition when he saw it.

But all it needed was a lick of paint, a new floor.

An update on the exterior.

Maybe some engine work.

And plumbing.

Okay. Fifteen grand might not be too outlandish.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should— All right, all right. Then you think of something.” Finn leaned up against the wall, fingers pressed against his temple. “The boat’s going under, Ryan. Think we have been for a while.”

Aiden’s breath stilled in his throat as he took in the utter resignation in the man’s tone. Finn was a person of few words, never once spoke outright how much that boat meant to him. And even if Aiden hadn’t found out from other sources, he could tell by each word dripping in it.

“Listen.” Finn cleared his throat. “No point in worrying ’bout it while you’re not here. I’ll keep beach classes up, and we’ll go from there. Yeah. Yeah, love you, too.”

With that, Finn slid the phone back into his pocket and sighed heavily before pushing himself away from the wall. Scrambling, Aiden took a dive toward the couch and landed just in time for the front door to open—the heaviness to Finn’s shoulders remained, but his expression was impressively schooled.

“Now.” Finn clapped his hands together, full attention on a flushed Aiden. “Where were we?”

Mind entirely on what he’d just heard, Aiden only opened his arms and beckoned Finn over to him. Meanwhile, a familiar sensation enveloped him. It was similar to what took over his entire cognitive function when he sprawled out on Daire’s couch. It was that part of him that told him he had to get out of there. The part that booked those tickets and packed his bags. The driven need to do something.

Except this time, it wasn’t for himself; it was for Finn. A man he felt like he knew a lot and nothing about, all at once. Someone who’d helped Aiden in more ways than he’d likely ever know, who opened his home and life to him. A person who’d dedicated their life to their family, who did best by his kid and clung to his relationship with his brother—to their parents.

To that boat.

Not long after, Finn’s long limbs entangled in his own, Aiden lay wide awake, heart racing. A plan started to piece itself together, in tandem with the steady rise and fall of Finn’s chest. Aiden could do something while he was here, something good.

And dammit if he wasn’t going to at least try.