Chapter Twenty-Six

They set the date for a little under a week’s time. It was important to Finn that Millie was there to enjoy the day. So much so that Finn quietly thanked him for the inclusion of a palace-shaped jumpy castle as Aiden brought him through the plans. Pen poised over a scrawled drawing of the beach, busily marking where everything would be set up, Aiden let himself smile.

Finn wanted him to be there.

Aiden didn’t care whether Finn simply wanted his help or his company. All that it mattered was that Aiden could be there.

Come the weekend, the true reinforcements arrived. Finn picked Millie up after school on Friday, and the Nguyen family took it upon themselves to set up camp in Finn’s living room to iron out the little details while they had time over the weekend. The kids undertook the task of drawing posters, which Tam proudly displayed in the front window of her shop—congratulating Dylan on the shark he’d so carefully sketched.

Millie’s was more straightforward, to the point. She’d written “DONATE” in thick black marker. And drawn a man wearing flippers underneath.

Aiden had to admire how succinctly she got her point across.

For the more metropolitan areas along the coast, Finn added some text atop a picture of the boat and designated Adie and Aiden as the task force that would distribute the posters in nearby areas. Finn had cited Aiden’s experience at the call center as a for-hire bullshit talker (despite Aiden’s dismal skill set), and Adie’s ability to talk the ear off of anyone that would listen.

“I feel like a door-to-door salesman,” Aiden said as they started off in Brisbane on Saturday.

“It helps that we’re cute,” Adie assured him, fixing her lipstick in the car mirror.

“We’re trying to get people to donate,” Aiden pointed out. To an actual website that Ryan was able to set up from his current post on the other side of the country. “Not flirt.”

“They can go hand in hand.” Turning to her companion for the day, Adie winked. “You should try your luck with the elderly. Those curls will work wonders.”

“You’ve been talking to Finn, haven’t you?” Aiden muttered, mostly beneath his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Aiden handed her over half the stack of leaflets in his possession. “Divide and conquer?”

“What is this? Scooby-Doo?” Adie linked her arm with Aiden’s, leaving no room for argument. And sure, they might have covered more ground if they’d split up.

But Aiden was sure that he wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun that way.

They returned home that evening assured in the knowledge that they at least got a handful of people to check out the website. Whether they donated or not was out of their hands, but considering the homepage included a picture of Ryan and Finn shirtless on the boat, Aiden was liking their odds.

Ryan clearly had the marketing brain of the Schultz brothers.

“You and Aiden should hit up Noosa and Mooloolaba tomorrow,” Tam said through a mouthful of pizza later that night. “See if you can guilt anyone there.”

“Don’t phrase it like that.” Finn frowned, picking the pineapple from his slice and depositing it onto Aiden’s plate—who gladly accepted the offering. “Feels slimy.”

“Sorry. Charm.”

“Yeah, not helping.”

“Tam does have a point,” Adie said, careful to keep her voice low on account of the two kids passed out on the couch behind them. “We were going to take the kids to Dot’s for the day. She wants to bring out the grill for the fundraiser and offered to do some tester dishes.”

“She doesn’t have to do that,” Finn argued.

“Finn, honey.” Tam placed a sure hand atop his arm, leveling him with an austere regard. “She wants to. Stop saying no to people who want to help. It’s annoying.”

“It really is,” Adie said from behind a mouthful of plain cheese.

Finn turned to Aiden, who immediately held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I’m still trying to get back in your good books.”

Tam snorted, which quickly turned to her choking on her crust. Adie rubbed her back as she sipped water, recovering. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Aiden. He’s trying to put on a whole front. I give him until tomorrow before he cracks.”

“I thought you said tonight?” Adie asked.

“We’re eating greasy pizza. No one feels like fucking after greasy pizza.”

“That’s it.” Finn shot forward to close the box that Tam was helping herself to, snatching it from her reach. “No more pizza for you.”

“Hey!”

“It’s about time we bring this little guy home to bed.” Adie stood up, brushing pizza-dusted hands against her knees and turning her attention to Dylan. The kid was flat out on the couch—glasses smushed against his nose.

“And I’m”—Tam yanked the box out of Finn’s grasp with a stone-cold glare—“taking this with me.”

With Dylan secure against Adie, head flopping down onto her shoulder, she said, “We’ll pick Millie up in the morning.”

“I should go, too,” Aiden said once the couple departed, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his neck out. “Busy day tomorrow.”

“It’s late,” Finn replied as he started to tidy up. “Stay.”

Aiden’s mouth went dry, arms falling limp to his sides. “On the couch?” It wasn’t a question—more a statement. Something to let Finn know that no matter what his meddling friends might say, Aiden wasn’t about to push.

Finn took a long, drawn-out moment to reply, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

Aiden didn’t need a blanket for as little as he slept. Finn had been right about the couch being uncomfortable. No matter what way he turned, he couldn’t quite lie down fully. And each time he tossed, the more he woke up and the further the embrace of sleep became. Too concerned with waking up the others to even try turning on the TV, he busied himself on his phone—thumb swiping over the animations on-screen as he mindlessly tried to pop bubbles until the battery died.

Deeming laying back down a fruitless activity that would only serve to worsen the twinge in his back from standing all day, he bundled the blanket around his shoulders and ambled to the kitchen. Switching on the kettle, Aiden rested his elbows against the countertop and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Can I have hot chocolate?”

In the space of two seconds, Aiden single-handedly managed to knock over a mug and two of the three pizza boxes propped there.

“Millie,” Aiden breathed, one hand held to his chest and the other clutching the countertop. “Scared the hell out of me.”

Millie, unbothered and hair sticking up in a multitude of different directions, only shrugged. “Hot chocolate?”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Aiden asked as he bent over to tidy up his mess, sighing as a few remaining slices slid to the floor.

“Isaac does it when I can’t sleep.”

“Well if Isaac does it,” he said and picked up another mug. “Bad dreams?”

Millie shook her head, taking her designated seat by the kitchen island. She watched critically as Aiden fixed her drink—undoubtedly ready to tell him if he did anything wrong. It reminded Aiden very much of his mam, who was hypercritical of his tea-making skills. To the point that Aiden had the number of stirs down to a fine art, and sometimes he still couldn’t quite do it right. “M’worried.”

“What about?”

Millie hummed, as though weighing up the pros and cons of divulging her concerns with the guy who kept showing up at her house without warning. If Aiden really thought about it, that was exactly who he was. Just some guy who came out of nowhere with no warning. It had been just Millie and Finn for so long.

“Is it about me?” he asked before Millie came to her decision.

“Kinda.” Aiden nearly dropped the spoon. “You left, and Dad got really sad.”

Out of everything that Aiden expected to hear, that wasn’t one of the options.

Aiden was careful to keep his back to Millie, tone as casual as he could make it. “He did?”

Millie rested her chin on her hand. “Did you get in a fight?”

What could he say? What should he say? Finn probably had a game plan with how he was handling all of this, and Aiden was in the perfect position to steamroll right through that.

“Mum makes Isaac sleep on the couch when they’ve had a fight or when he snores. Do you snore?”

Stirring in enough chocolate powder to color the milk but not overload the eight-year-old with sugar at 2 a.m., Aiden exhaled loudly. He didn’t want to lie to Millie, who’d expressed her concern with being left out of information not too long ago. That, and he had a feeling she’d somehow catch him out in the fib anyway.

“I did something wrong.” Aiden spoke slowly, purposefully, careful with his words in case they came back to bite him in the ass. “And your dad had every right to be upset.”

“So that’s why he was sad.”

Mug in the microwave, door closed.

“Yep.” Aiden turned back around, a tight-lipped smile on his face.

“What did you do?”

Aiden drummed his fingers against the countertop, mind far too foggy to be thinking on the spot like this. “I did something I wasn’t supposed to, and he found out.”

Millie dropped her tone, leaning in close. “Like drink juice from the carton? I do that, but Dad doesn’t know.”

It was nothing short of a miracle that Aiden didn’t laugh, but he screwed his eyes closed to stop himself. “Kinda like that.”

“And that’s why you’re helping. Because you feel bad.”

Millie was a hell of a kid for assuming, but he couldn’t fault her reasoning.

“I’m helping because I want to.” The microwave dinged, and Aiden gave the warm milk with minor traces of chocolate a final stir before presenting it to Millie. “Just like I wanted to make you hot chocolate.”

Delighted by her offering, Millie took a long sip and concluded with a satisfied sigh and a milk mustache. Chuckling, Aiden grabbed a tissue and reached over to remedy the situation.

“Good?”

“It’s all right,” replied Millie, going in for a second slurp anyway. “Isaac makes it better.”

Aiden didn’t feel bitter about that, but if he did he would have reasoned with himself that Isaac definitely laced the drink with sugar and faced the consequences in the morning.

“I’ll have to keep practicing, then.”

“Does that mean you’re staying?” The milk stache was back, and Aiden decided to cut his losses and fix it up once she was finished.

“For a few more days,” Aiden said, his Sunday flight the coming week flashing to mind. He’d only prolonged his stay; he still had to face the music. “While I can help.”

“Until my dad’s happy again.”

Aiden leaned forward on his elbows again, voice low as he said, “Your dad doesn’t need me for that. Anyway, how could he be sad for long when he has a kid like you?”

Millie’s cheeks widened with a pleased grin. Even if Aiden messed up her drink, he clearly flattered her enough to make up for it. With a final few chugs and one last cleanup around her mouth, Aiden shooed Millie back to bed before the two of them could get caught red-handed.

Making his way back up the hallway, Aiden could have sworn Finn’s bedroom door was closed, until a low voice reached his ears the moment he was two steps past it.

“If she has a sugar meltdown tomorrow,” Finn said, once again leaning up against the doorway as though this was some sort of impromptu photoshoot, “then it’s entirely your fault.”

“So being really quiet just runs in the family?” Aiden managed, back against the wall and heart once again in his mouth.

“Ryan isn’t.”

“The one that isn’t here—got it.” Aiden took a breath, shoulders relaxing now that he knew he wasn’t under direct attack. “It was mostly milk, if that helps. She couldn’t sleep.”

“I heard everything, too,” Finn said, head tilted to the side. Even in the dim light, the hallway barely illuminated by the bulb in the kitchen, Aiden could make out the dark bags beneath Finn’s eyes. “I’ll talk to her in the morning. She shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“It’s been the two of you for so long,” Aiden said, pulling the blanket tighter over his shoulders. “She just wants to look out for you, too.”

Finn scrunched up his face, that fact not settling with him. “She’s a kid. She shouldn’t have to worry about her old man.”

“Millie’s a smart girl.” Aiden wondered if Finn would take his hand if he reached for it. “She can be a kid and think about you at the same time.”

Reaching out to touch the hem of Aiden’s blanket, Finn asked, “Trouble sleeping?”

“You weren’t kidding about the couch.”

“It’s a bit shit,” said Finn with a tired sigh. “Get in before I come to my senses.”

“I’ll be okay.” Aiden couldn’t help but look longingly toward the room he’d had blissful nights of sleep in. “I’m going to try out the floo—”

“I’m pulling your leg.” Finn fixed him with a stare, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been having trouble, too. Turns out I sleep better with a drooling, snoring octopus next to me.”

Aiden couldn’t quite dignify that with a response, but a spark of hope blossomed in his chest. This could mean everything, and it could mean nothing.

But it was one more night with Finn’s body against him, and Aiden wasn’t going to argue against that.