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Chapter Forty-Two

Xavier

W e do end up going on that fourth date, but not until over a week after my mother ships off again. She stayed home for nine days this time—and Finn was progressively more and more difficult to handle with every one of them. It's a playbook I'm used to by now, since it's the same deal every time she shows up and gives him a speck of her attention—just enough to tease him—then leaves and pulls the same routine all over again. But this was a first for Maggie. I'd warned her, but still, it's a lot to deal with. He's a nightmare. Moody as hell. Lethargic and bratty and angry to the point of going out of his way to piss people off. Because, like me, Finny's good at figuring out what people's buttons are and how to press them.

We made it through the other side alive, though. Maggie was right—having him on a routine helped him handle things better this time around. It was no cake walk, for sure, but he was out of sorts and a total demon for only a week after Jacee shipped back off to Europe, or the Maldives, or where-the-fuck-ever, instead of his usual three weeks.

And an even better outcome from sticking with Maggie's routines and boundaries and stuff with Finn?

He got invited on his first playdate.

Yeah. Some kid he's apparently been hanging out with at kindergarten invited him over a few days ago. I was so pumped I even gave the kid's parents a pass for naming their son "Lumen". Maggs let him stay up half an hour past his bedtime the day of the playdate so he could tell me all about it when I got home after rehearsing with the guys.

"So, you ate penguin cookies?"

Finn throws his head back, giggling like I just told the funniest joke. "Not cookies! Crackers that were shaped like penguins!"

"Got it." I nod solemnly, taking a seat on the couch as he scrambles up beside me. "Big difference."

I raise an eyebrow at Maggie, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, smirking as she folds Finn’s sweater.

Finn nods, then suddenly gasps. "Oh! And guess what else?!" He climbs onto my lap, getting right up in my face, eyes wide as saucers. "Lumen’s house has an actual fort! In his bedroom. With, curtains. And pillows. Aaannnnd…" he pokes my bicep, inhales dramatically, "we played Spider-Man-Hotel-Apocalypse!"

I blink. "Spider-Man… what now?"

He places his hands on my shoulders and stands on my thighs, so I have to tilt my head back to look at him. "Spider-Man-Hotel-Apocalypse. It’s a game we invented. Lumen was Spider-Man. I was a firefighter, and we had to rescue everyone in the hotel from the bad guys and also from the end of the world."

My lips twitch. "Sounds intense… Bet the hotel Yelp reviews were a nightmare."

I glance at Maggie again. She’s shaking with silent laughter.

Finn pets my head. "Huh?"

I steady him with both hands on his hips. "Did the bad guys at least leave a mint on the pillow?"

"Nope… They stole the pillows!"

"Whaaat?"

"All of them."

Maggie shuffles closer. "And you wrapped a present, too?"

Finn scrunches up his face. "Huh? Wrapped a present? Ohhh, no. Not wrapped. We made a rap."

"… A rap?" I pull him down, so he's sitting again.

"Yeah. Lumen beatboxed and I rapped. Want to hear it?!"

Maggie presses her lips together, eyes twinkling. "I think we need to hear it."

Finn springs up onto the couch, clears his throat, and starts beatboxing—if a series of wet, spitty sounds could be considered beatboxing.

Then, with a dramatic inhale, he throws his hands in the air.

"WE GOT PENGUINS IN THE HOUSE! AND A HOTEL IS ON FIIIIIIIRE! WE GOT SPIDEY SAVING GUESTS—" He stops abruptly. "Oh wait, I forgot the next part."

Maggie and I exchange a look.

I rub my jaw. "Damn. And it was just getting good."

Finn bends at the knees, squeezing his crotch. "I know, right?!?"

"You need to pee, bud?"

He nods, hopping from one foot to the other. "Yeah."

I laugh pushing him towards the bathroom. "Then go, dude! Go go go!"

He races down the hall. When he disappears into his room, I pull Maggie into my arms and murmur against her temple. "Thank you."

She looks up at me, her brow wrinkled. "For what?"

"For Finn… persisting. Riding my ass about his bedtime and routines and stuff." I wrap my arms around her. "The way he's feeling tonight… that's because of you."

"You laid the groundwork. I just showed up and tweaked a few things."

Man, this girl is something else.

She and I have been going on our own play dates. Date number four more than made up for the drunken lunch and hedge barfing. Then we went on a fifth. And sixth. Now we've stopped counting. And I could be wrong, but it feels like that's the point where you slip from "dating" territory into "legit couple" territory. Which is scary as hell. Awesome, but still, daunting. Unfamiliar territory, I guess. But things are so different with Maggs than they've been with any other girl before, so I'm focusing on that. And on how much fun I have when I'm with her. The conversations we have; discussions and debates and easy back-and-forths. The outings we do together with Finn, and quiet late nights just the two of us up in the Observatory, stargazing and eating frozen cheesecake with berries and cream soda. Making out on the pile of cushions underneath the stars, then lying side by side, talking in whispers as we stare up at the night sky .

The staff definitely know about us. The knowing looks between Denise and Candice when Maggie and I are in the same room say plenty. And honestly? I don't care. After all the shit the staff has turned a blind eye to over the years—the parties, the girls sneaking out at dawn, that time I flooded the indoor pool—dating Maggie is probably the tamest thing they've had to disregard.

If anything, I think they're relieved. The parties have slowed to a screeching halt. I've been keeping out of trouble. And Finn is like a different kid. Still a handful, but nothing like before. He listens way more now, works on his letters and words in the evenings without throwing his books or backpack across the room. He even goes to bed most nights without World War III breaking out.

So yeah, maybe dating the nanny isn't the most conventional move. But nothing about our family has ever been conventional anyway.

The days move by fast and in a blur. Hockey season finishes, and I spend more time rehearsing with the band. Maggie reaches ten thousand subscribers on her YouTube channel and buys the small compression airbrush gun she's been saving up for.

Then, one night, I show up at Cam’s for rehearsal to find him with a shit-eating grin and news that makes the rest of us hoot and holler so loud, Cam's neighbor comes over to make sure everything's okay.

"Two weeks from now? Are you freakin’ serious?" Tyler’s voice is half-shout, half-laugh as he whips around to Cam, eyes wide.

"Dead serious." Cam grins, arms crossed over his chest like he’s the king of all good news.

Tyler and I whoop in unison, slamming a fist bump so hard it's a miracle neither of us break a knuckle.

"The manager at the Foundry called me this afternoon," Cam continues, basking in the moment. "One of their bands canceled, and he heard we had a new thing going. Asked if we’d be ready."

Liam lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Dude. For a paid gig at the Foundry, we’ll make ourselves ready. "

"No shit," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. It was only a few weeks ago I was at the Foundry for a show, standing in the crowd, thinking there's no way in hell I could ever be up on stage. And now I will be.

"Alright, we gotta celebrate," Liam declares.

"Hooks?" Tyler suggests.

Cam grabs his keys, already moving. "Obviously."

A couple hours later, we’ve already demolished our burgers from Hooks, and even though it's freezing, we build a fire. The flames flicker and pop, sending sparks into the freezing night air.

"I predict," Liam says, kicking a log deeper into the fire, "this is just the beginning. Salt Vein is gonna be huge, man. Two years from now, we'll be playing arenas."

"Bold of you to assume we’ll even make it to any venue outside Sandy Haven," Cam deadpans, stretching out his legs. "With the way you navigate Google Maps, we'll end up at a Waffle House in the desert somewhere asking for directions to Madison Square Garden."

Tyler barks out a laugh, leaning back on his elbows. "Facts."

I take a long sip of my beer, feeling the warmth of the fire on my face, the cold ocean breeze in my hair, the steady hum of anticipation in my chest.

"We should open with Lead Bare ," Cam muses, staring into the flames.

Tyler snorts. "That song is depressing as hell."

"Yeah, but the good kind of depressing," Cam argues.

Liam tilts his head, considering. "He’s got a point. It’s moody as shit, but it hits."

We go back and forth, discussing song order, transitions, whether we should attempt that weird breakdown in one of the songs I wrote last week.

I tune them out for a second, just taking it in .

The fire crackles. The waves crash somewhere behind us.

And for once, everything in my life feels good.

The band. Maggie. Finn.

I know it’s probably too good to be real. Because if I’ve learned one true thing in my life, it’s that good things rarely last.

But tonight, with salt spray in the air and music in my head, I let myself pretend.