Page 12 of A Hard Fit (Falling Hard #2)

Thankful

Finn forced himself out of bed at five a.m. the next day. He had gotten way too used to lazy mornings snuggled under the blankets with Rory, and his workout schedule had suffered accordingly. It took a herculean effort to leave the warm, slumbering form next to him, but it was time to get back on track. He went for a run and did some lifting in his garage. When he got out of the shower almost two hours later, his hair dripped over pleasantly fatigued muscles.

Rory had his oatmeal waiting. Finn could not remember the last time someone had made him breakfast. He gave Rory a kiss and dug in.

“What should we make for Thanksgiving dinner?” Rory asked when they were finishing up.

Finn swallowed his last bite, admiring the subtle purple marks on Rory’s neck that his lips and teeth had left the night before. “Whatever you want, love.”

“You want to do a turkey?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Rory stood to take their plate to the dishwasher. “And what do you like with turkey?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Finn!” Rory propped a hip against the counter. “Help me decide. Usually people have very strong feelings about what is included in Thanksgiving dinner.”

Finn waggled his eyebrows. “It’s hard for me to think when I’m staring at your perfect face and long, delicious neck.”

Rory snorted but ran a hand along Finn’s shoulders on their way to the coffee maker. “Nice try. Mashed potatoes? Candied yams? Stuffing? What did you have growing up?”

“Um, peanut-butter sandwiches?” Finn shrugged, fiddling with his spoon. “My mom was always working. I remember dinner with my grandma, once. I think we had sweet potato casserole.”

Rory kissed the top of Finn’s head while the coffee machine hummed. “Then sweet potato casserole it is.”

* * * *

Rory left early for their parents’ house on Thanksgiving, so Finn was home alone that morning prepping a canvas when the doorbell rang. He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands and was surprised to see a familiar, dignified face smiling at him when he opened the door.

“Aleandro!” Finn said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Finn.” Aleandro gestured to a case of wine at his feet. “Forgive me for showing up unannounced. Penelope and I are on our way to Camarillo with Ilona, but I heard you and Rory were hosting Luka and Thomas for dinner this weekend and I wanted to drop this off for you to enjoy. I hope the Chéreau will be to your liking?”

Finn’s tastebuds watered. “Are you kidding? That’s amazing. Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure. I hope the four of you enjoy it.”

Finn waved as Aleandro climbed back into his car then hauled the wine into the kitchen, stashing four bottles in the fridge and tucking the case away into the garage chaos before heading back to his studio. He thought about texting Rory roughly four thousand times before he finally caved.

Miss you, he sent, when the first layer was drying.

Rory replied right away. Miss you too.

Finn hummed over his paint colors.

* * * *

Rory got home—or rather, back to Finn’s house—late that night, smelling like grease and cinnamon.

“How was it?” Finn asked as Rory fell onto the couch next to him.

“Oh, fine.” They tipped over and laid their head in Finn’s lap. “The usual. Loud, busy, fun but exhausting.”

Finn slid his fingers into Rory’s hair. “Tell me about it.”

“Mmm…” Rory closed their eyes and nuzzled into the touch before starting to talk. “Um, we played Charades first. My team won—quite proud of my performance on Die Hard , to be honest.”

Finn chuckled. “Did you do Hans falling off the tower?”

Rory smiled up at him, eyes crinkled. “Sure did. Then it was dinner, and Minnie wanted to help set the table. Not sure who thought it would be a good idea to have her carry the cranberry sauce, but she spilled it on the rug, so the first half hour of dinner included a lot of crying. Then, after dinner, one of my cousin’s kids, Leo, broke a vase.”

“Oh no! Was it an accident?”

“Nah, he pushed his brother into it. So then my cousin was shrieking at him and told him to wash dishes to help ‘pay’ for it. But my mom gave him some candy and sent him to go play.”

“Oof.”

“Yeah. That didn’t go over well with my cousin. Otherwise, my great aunt managed not to say anything too racist, and overall, conflict was at a minimum. Well, except I caused a bit of an incident when my uncle commented that the actress who plays Ophy put on a lot of weight in season three.”

“What?”

“I know, it’s insane. She’s gorgeous and talented and on a hit TV show, and he wants to talk about her weight? Maddening.”

Finn scratched his nails along the shaved part of Rory’s scalp. “Ophy is beautiful no matter what, and so are you.”

Rory shivered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“What did you get up to?” Their eyes drifted closed.

“Not much. I painted, worked out, made a salad. And my mom called again.”

Rory’s eyes snapped open. “She did? How did that go?”

“I didn’t answer it.”

“You didn’t? Finn.”

“What?”

Rory sat up. “I know this family stuff is hard and super complicated, but…your mom and sister are clearly trying to patch things up.”

Finn stiffened. “‘Patch things up’? ‘Clearly’? I basically had to raise myself and now they do fuck all but ask me for things. That’s all they’ve ever done. I’m only useful to them when I’m…useful. You have no idea what it was like growing up with them.”

Rory paused. “You’re right, I don’t know.”

Finn slung an arm around Rory and pulled them up against his side. They settled back against the couch, feet on the coffee table.

“You could tell me, though, if you want,” Rory said, sliding a big toe along Finn’s ankle.

Finn puffed up his cheeks and blew out a breath. “Oh yeah? Let’s see… You want to hear how I mowed lawns all summer when I was thirteen so I could buy a bike, and my mom stole my cash so she could take a trip with some shitty boyfriend? Not that she ever took me on any trips. Or how about when I was in college, she kept asking for one of my paintings, and I thought for a few fucking seconds she liked my work—she was maybe even fucking proud of me—but then she tried to sell it online the very next day?”

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” Rory rubbed Finn’s arm. “Did she, though?”

“Did she what?”

“Sell it?”

“No. I went onto her computer and deleted the listing. Never gave her a painting again. And she didn’t even feel bad about it.”

“Hmm.” Rory was silent, continuing to slide a hand up and down Finn’s arm. “She thought it was good enough to sell, at least.”

“No, she didn’t. She said people would pay lots of money for, and I’m quoting, ‘bullshit art.’”

“Oh, Finn.”

Finn snorted. “She was wrong anyway.”

“What do you mean? I’d pay for your art. Lots of people would.”

“I told you, I tried. It didn’t work out. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Aw, come on,” Rory said, teasingly. “That’s what Thanksgiving is for, isn’t it? Reliving family trauma?”

“Trauma? Like spilled cranberry sauce and elderly relatives who say inappropriate things?”

Rory’s hand stilled. “No, I—That’s not what I meant.”

Finn regretted his words before he even finished speaking then. “I know… I didn’t mean to make light of—”

“It’s okay.” Rory curled up against Finn. “How about Godstrike ?”

“Let’s just go to bed,” Finn said, taking a deep breath of Rory’s scent and willing the tightness in his chest to loosen. “I’m tired.”

They didn’t have sex that night, but Finn held Rory close enough to feel their heart beating. Rory fell asleep quickly, and Finn wondered late into the night what would have happened if he had answered the phone.

* * * *

Rory went to join their parents again on Friday—they were going for lunch and giving the out-of-town family a tour of the plant. Finn had to admit he was curious to see what it was like, but was still not going to touch Rory’s extended family with a one-hundred-foot bundle of rebar.

After the tour, Rory went back to their apartment. “I need to catch up on sleep and laundry and water my plants,” they explained that morning. “Plus, my friends have been pestering me for a hangout, and—”

“It’s okay,” Finn had said, leaning down to kiss away the babbling. “Go. See your friends. We’ll have the day together tomorrow.”

Finn was not expecting Rory back that night, but there they were at midnight, crawling into bed next to him. Finn fucked them long and slow, their sighs and whimpers mingling into the sweetest song he’d ever heard.

* * * *

“Are these your dishtowels?” Finn asked, hands wet and brow furrowed at the mustard yellow cloth hanging from the oven handle that he had never seen before.

Rory kissed his cheek on the way by. “No, they’re yours.”

“Mine? I already have dishtowels.”

“I know, but these ones match. There’s dishcloths, too.”

Finn now noticed the same-colored cloth draped over the sink faucet. “Match?”

“Yeah, they all match now.” Rory pulled Grandma’s gravy boat out of the cabinet. “This pattern is gorgeous.”

Finn dried his hands on the new linen and picked up the potato peeler, processing. “But I liked the ones I had.”

“I noticed that most of them were getting pretty worn, and I saw this great deal online last week when I was finishing up my Christmas shopping.”

Finn’s head was spinning. “ Finishing your Christmas shopping? And…you bought me dish towels?”

“Not as your gift, silly! I just thought you’d like the color. They go with the rest of the kitchen… Why, are you not finished your Christmas shopping?”

“Haven’t even started.”

“You haven’t started? It’s after Thanksgiving!”

“It’s still November!”

“Doesn’t it stress you out not having it even started?”

“This conversation stresses me out,” Finn muttered, attacking the potato with the peeler.

Rory, who had gone to stare thoughtfully at the dining room table, didn’t appear to hear. “What do you think about napkin swans?”

* * * *

“The table looks beautiful,” Finn said, admiring Rory’s setup. The gold-trimmed china shimmered in the candlelight, and the napkin swans were immaculate.

“The gravy is way too thin,” Rory fretted from the stove, madly stirring with a fork. “Will you pass me the cornstarch, please?”

“It looks delicious to me,” Finn said, going over to stand behind Rory.

“It’s not—it’s like water.”

Finn pulled Rory in for a kiss, as instructed by the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron he had convinced Rory to put on. “Even if it is, it will be fine.”

“I just want you to have the perfect Thanksgiving.” They sighed.

“Hey, you’re here.” Finn brushed Rory’s bangs back. “It is perfect.”

Before he knew it, Rory gripped him in a tight hug, where they remained until they heard a car pull up out front. Finn disentangled himself and went to peek out of the window in the front door. Luka climbed out of a cab with great care, an apple pie in his hands and a bag of rolls tucked under his arm. Another cab pulled up right behind, discharging Thomas’ thick frame. Thomas held a pumpkin pie in one splayed hand and a small potted plant with the other.

Finn watched them flirting awkwardly as they made their way up the walkway and flung open the door before they could knock. “Happy Thanksgiving!” he cried, taking the rolls from Luka. “Get in here, you two. Help me convince Rory the gravy isn’t too thin.”

“This is for you.” Thomas handed the pot to Finn. “I noticed you don’t have any plants.”

Finn eyed it. “Yeah, I always kill them. But”—he brightened up—“it might have more of a chance now that Rory is around. Thanks, Wolf.”

Finn bustled them into the kitchen where they deposited the food they had brought. Rory was still stirring gravy.

“Luka, Thomas,” they said warmly, giving each of them a hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having us,” Luka replied. “Wow, this all looks amazing. Especially the gravy.”

Rory swatted Finn with a mustard dish towel. “You told them.”

“No, I… Yeah, I may have mentioned something. But the gravy is perfect, love.”

Then the dining room caught Luka’s attention through the doorway. “Just the four of us?” Luka asked.

“Yup,” Finn confirmed. “I asked Ilona, but Aleandro and Penelope had already invited her to Camarillo. Everyone else had plans.” Cozy little double-date , Finn thought with glee, enjoying the way Luka’s cheeks flushed.

“Dinner is almost ready!” Rory announced, turning off the burner. “Why don’t you two have a seat? Finn will get you a drink.”

“Aleandro dropped off a whole case!” Finn said. “Is the Chéreau okay?” They made their way into the dining room.

“Sounds great.” Luka pulled a chair out and sat. “The table is beautiful.”

“That’s all Rory,” Finn said. “For a numbers guru, they fold a mean napkin.”

Rory followed them in, dropping off a dish of potatoes. “Thanks, hon.”

Finn slid his arm around Rory’s waist and planted a kiss on their cheek, so proud of his partner and their seemingly endless list of talents.

Once every remaining inch of the table was covered with food, Finn and Rory settled across from Thomas and Luka. There was turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn and Brussels sprouts, plus a vat of gravy that was, okay, maybe a touch on the thin side, but would meet their needs just fine. They dove in and loaded their plates, their easy chatter accented by the clink of spoons on china and the glug of pouring wine.

Thomas told stories about some of the other Breakpoint branches he’d worked at, and Finn shared one from their office. As the evening went on, the sparks between Luka and Thomas were almost visible, the tension rolling off them in waves. Finn could barely stand it anymore.

“Speaking of sleeping around,” Finn said at the end of his story, helping himself to another slice of turkey, “you seeing anyone these days, Luka?”

Luka’s cheeks glowed pink in the candlelight. “Nope.”

“I don’t want to be that person,” Rory piped up, “but, you know what? My cousin Dimitri just broke up with his boyfriend. I think you’d like him.”

Rory! Finn wanted to facepalm. They had missed the point. But it was sort of fun watching Luka squirm.

“Uh…” Luka’s throat bobbed. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“He’s cute, too!” Rory added. “I promise. He grew up in Paris, has an accent and everything. He also has like four dogs, but who doesn’t like dogs, right?”

“No, it’s just—Thanks, but I…” Luka floundered.

“You have your eye on someone else?” Finn finished helpfully.

Luka glared so hard at him. Finn grinned back.

“No,” Luka said with gritted teeth. “I’m just not…interested in dating anyone right now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Rory smiled over at Thomas. “What about you?”

Rory had to be trolling. Finn watched Thomas’ reaction with great interest.

Thomas froze, eyes the size of his plate. “Um…I don’t date much…since I move around so often.”

“Don’t you get lonely?” Rory asked, leaning forward and frowning with concern.

Brilliant . Finn tried not to laugh.

“Well… I—No. I mean, yes, but…” Now it was Thomas’ turn to flounder.

Rory chuckled. “It’s okay. You can let me know if you change your mind.” They scooped up a forkful of stuffing. “Either of you.”

Well, damn . Maybe Rory was genuine. Finn caught their eye and gave them a meaningful headshake.

A glimmer of understanding crossed their face. “Or not,” they added, hastily.

Luka gulped the rest of his wine while Thomas focused on scooping another helping of Brussels sprouts onto his plate.

Finn sighed. These two.

* * * *

“If they don’t hook up soon…” Finn whispered, tilting his head to see if he could get a glimpse of Luka and Thomas washing dishes together in the kitchen.

“Have you talked to Luka about it?” Rory asked, also careful to keep their voice low. The two of them had been banished to the living room with their wine while Luka and Thomas cleaned up.

“Sort of. He just immediately shuts it down. Says he’s not interested, Thomas is his boss, et cetera.”

“That’s too bad. There’s nothing better than being in love.” They pecked Finn on the nose.

Finn pulled Rory closer. “That’s for sure. And thank you for dinner. It was the best Thanksgiving of my life.”

Rory rested their head on Finn’s shoulder, breath warm on his neck. “You’re welcome.”

Unexpected tears pricked at Finn’s eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Rory put their hand on Finn’s chest. “You feel it, don’t you?”