Page 64

EMME

D espite his promise to help me get ready, Kellan was summoned by Hunter to haul the grill and coolers of meat and drinks into the street to start prepping for the barbeque. Everyone was expected to show up today after weeks of the event being postponed or cancelled.

I didn’t have any experience with this barbeque yet, but I was excited to see it all in action.

While Finley was in the shower, I pulled myself out of his comfortable bed, and I took a second to look around his room.

From the moment I stepped foot in this house, there’d been two rooms off limits to me: Slade’s and Finley’s.

I hadn’t been sure I’d ever get to see this one, and I took my time taking it all in.

The walls were white, and like all the bedrooms, there was a bank of windows along one side.

Heavy curtains in the same shade of blue as my eyes blocked the outside world, and when I pulled their thick length aside, weak sunlight filtered in.

It looked super chilly out there today, and if I had to guess, there was more snow on the horizon.

Leaving the curtains open, I perused the many shelves that covered the walls, ending up in a corner set up like a tattoo studio.

Artwork was pinned to corkboards, and the stainless- steel tables held sealed boxes of equipment.

I still had no idea what was required to tattoo shifters, and it was a relief to know I could ask Finley questions without getting my head bitten off.

Maybe I’d even ask him if he’d work on the tattoo I had brewing in the back of my mind.

Examining the sketches, his artistic talent was abundantly clear, from landscapes, dark symbols, and insanely detailed animals. There were even a few portraits, and I paused at a bear standing next to a familiar side profile, freckles dotted across her nose. My nose.

Whoa . I blinked at this new piece of evidence that I was important to Finley. He’d drawn us staring out into the distance, expressions pensive.

We didn’t have many photos together, other than the few on my phone from the night we’d celebrated at Luxuria, and I couldn’t stop staring at his drawing. It was so much more than a photo; it was his heart on paper, and I was about to break down if I didn’t get out of here.

Tearing myself from the art corner, I focused on his shelves again.

I’d have expected Finley to be minimalistic like Slade, but he was far from that.

The first shelf was filled with hockey trophies—hundreds more than Kellan, as if Finley had never lost or misplaced even one.

They were all shiny, not a lick of dust across them, and each had its own space to shine.

He was proud of his achievements, and I was determined not to let him give up hockey for me. No matter how hard it was for us to be apart.

The next shelf was filled with books, and I scanned the spines noting they were mostly non-fiction: Biographies, self-help, history.

He appeared to enjoy reading about human wars, and I noted five or six on the art of origami .

I loved that while the origami was recent, the magazines first appeared before he made the choice to fight for us.

As if even back then, he couldn’t quite manage to hate me fully.

The next set of shelves had glass doors protecting the treasures inside.

Everything looked old, and I guessed this held significant pieces from Finley’s childhood.

There were multiple pairs of old skates, shards of pottery that had been broken and repaired with what looked like gold, and some sports memorabilia.

Along with shelf after shelf of origami, surrounding the largest paper flower I’d ever seen in my life. It must have been created using multiple differently colored papers, until it formed one massive bloom. It looked older as well, the colors fading around the edges.

“Jiro, Kenzo’s grandfather taught me.”

I almost threw myself through the glass in surprise. I turned to find Finley leaning against the doorway of his bathroom, a towel slung around his waist, and I wondered how long he’d been standing there watching me snoop through his room.

“Kenzo’s grandfather taught you origami?” I repeated.

He nodded. “Yeah, he was born and raised in Japan and emigrated out here with his pack when Kenzo’s father was young. He didn’t have a complete quintet until they arrived here, which was no doubt why he’d felt the urge to leave his home.”

I returned my gaze to the pieces of his past he held most precious. “I’m glad you had them in your life,” I murmured, pressing my fingertips to the edge of the glass. “I get the sense you might not have fared so well without them.”

He cleared his throat, and I glanced his way in time to see his expression tighten. “I wouldn’t have survived without them. Or at least I wouldn’t be the functioning shifter I am today. Despite how poorly I showed that side of myself when we first met.”

I waved him off, and not because it wasn’t a big deal, but we were moving on from it. The only way forward was to let go of the past.

“You’re doing just fine, Finley Thornton. You show me your strength every day. We both have traumas we’re working through. And while I know this is an individual journey for both of us, it’s comforting to know that someone else understands.”

He took a step closer, and I was much more aware of how naked he was, just a towel covering him as droplets of water fell from the ends of his damp hair to his broad shoulders.

“Healing means taking an honest look at the role you play in your own suffering,” Finley said, but in my distraction, I almost didn’t hear a word of that very sage advice.

As I followed a drop of water, I found myself asking, “What do your tattoos say?”

Finley glanced down at his chest as if he’d forgotten he even had tattoos.

He pressed his hand to his ribs, right over the cursive writing.

“This is advice Jiro gave us all the time: Fall down seven times and get up eight . He wanted me to know that it didn’t matter how many times I fell, as long as I kept getting up. As long as I kept fighting.”

That statement hit me hard. My knees were weak by how real it felt. “And the other one?” I managed to rasp.

His eyes never left mine. “Well, I have two more now, but I’ll leave the third for another time. The second is a hockey quote: Leave it all on the ice . It has multiple meanings for me, but mostly it’s the way hockey was my therapy and salvation.”

I loved that one too but was slightly distracted by a search for the third tattoo. Wherever it was, it was either very small, on his back, or hidden beneath the towel.

Finley chuckled as he shook his head and turned to enter his wardrobe, reemerging a minute later dressed in jeans and an old hockey jersey. “Would you like to do something with me today, before the barbeque?” he asked.

My nod was enthusiastic as I really wasn’t ready to give up our bonding time. “Yes, I’d love to. If you don’t think the guys will need our help.”

“Nah, Hunt already messaged and said that we should keep hanging out for a few hours.”

With a muffled snort, I said, “We might need to change his chat name to Cupid at this rate.”

It was fairly adorable the ways our big, growly entitled alpha kept his pack safe. We couldn’t have asked for a better leader of our quintet.

Finley grimaced. “You might need to make that suggestion. You’re the only one Hunter won’t kill over a cute nickname.”

Now, didn’t that just make a girl feel a tiny bit special.

“So, what do you want to do today?”

Finley’s slow smile had sparks firing through me. “Dress warm and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Well, that worked wonders in distracting me, and I was excited by this plan, whatever it was. As long as we kept hanging out, I’d be happy.

“Okay! I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Ten minutes later we were in Finley’s big truck, heading out of the compound. A few family members waved as they hauled chairs and tables around, and I was doubly excited for the event after our outing.

Finley controlled the big truck with ease, and I was extra comfortable in the nicely heated seats.

When he casually reached out to take my hand, I flinched, taken by surprise.

Despite my reaction, he didn’t pull away.

Instead he threaded our fingers together, his huge, callused palm sliding against my own.

Every part of my body clenched, right down to my toes in warm socks and furred boots.

I’d dressed similarly to Finley, in jeans, with layers of shirt, sweater, and one of his hoodies over the top. As I’d guessed earlier, it was icy today.

When he turned onto the road that led to his hockey stadium, I settled back, enjoying the silent but relaxed ride. There was no music or distractions, just the two of us, with Finley’s thumb tracing a path over my palm.

“You have a calm soul,” he said, with a contented rumble. “I’ve searched for calm my entire existence.”

“Me too,” I admitted, before we fell silent again to enjoy said calm.

When the rink came into view, Finley pulled into a spot near the players’ entrance, and before I could open my door, he was there helping me out.

When the breeze cut through my hoodie, I tried not to shiver.

Finley grabbed a sports bag from the back and looped his arm over my shoulders, his heat chasing away the chill.

“Come on, darlin’, let’s play some hockey.”

We ended up in the locker room, and I wasn’t surprised to find them fancy and clean, the same teal, gold, and white of their jerseys filling the walls in stripes and logos.

The Wolves were the top team in the league, which meant plenty of money to keep everything in peak condition for the players and spectators.

“You know I can’t skate, right?” I said, feeling the need to put that out there. “I don’t even mind just watching you. You’re kind of magic on the ice.”

“I’m going to teach you to skate,” he said as he pulled a gorgeous pair of white skates from the bag. “This is the gift I had in my room for you. I think I mentioned that this morning when I stumbled in from the bar.” A slight pink tinged his cheeks while I gawked at the shiny, pretty skates.

Finley nudged me down onto the bench and knelt before me to remove my boots. His hands were gentle as he slid the skates on my feet, focusing as he laced them up. “This should be the right size,” he murmured, checking everything closely.

“They feel perfect,” I assured him, having no idea if that was true or not as this was my first time wearing a pair of skates.

It was cute how nervous he seemed, that blush remaining as he slipped guards over the blades and got his own skates on. When we were both ready, he helped me hobble to the ice.

At the entrance to the rink, I glanced across the smooth expanse, and tried not to let my nerves get the better of me. Shifters had near perfect coordination, but this was still a frozen bed of water. It felt unnatural to try to traverse it on skinny metal blades.

I’d already accepted that I’d be on my ass more often than not today, but this was important to Finley, which made it important to me. I’d fall a hundred times, as long as he was there to help me up again.

“Are you nervous, Em?” he asked when I hesitated. “You’re the ice queen, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be any good, but I’m willing to try,” I told him.

He helped me remove my guards, and he stepped out first, gliding so effortlessly that it was exactly like magic, as I’d said before. I eyed the ice, my adversary for the day, and took one last fortifying breath.

The first step wasn’t too bad, but as I brought my other foot down and pushed forward, I misjudged the slipperiness and started to wobble.

My arms went out for balance, but there was nothing to grab on to.

A little shriek escaped as I started to go down, but Finley caught me long before I hit the deck.

He hauled me closer, low chuckles rumbling his chest. “I’d never let you fall, darlin’,” he said patting my back. “Not ever.”

My heart hammered from the close call, or maybe it was being in his arms like this, but either way… Ice skating might be for me after all.