Page 10 of Evermore
The catch had required quick reflexes and surprising strength, and suddenly Finn was very aware of the muscles in River's arms, the steady way he held him upright, the careful restraint in his grip.
Finn looked up to thank him and found their faces about two inches apart. River's eyes were this incredible green up close, like deep water with sunlight filtering through, and suddenly Finn couldn't remember how breathing worked.
“Hi,” he said stupidly.
“Hi,” River replied, voice gone soft and rough at the same time.
Neither moved for what felt like an hour but was probably three seconds.
Finn could feel River's heartbeat against his chest, could smell salt water and sunscreen and something warm that was just River.
The moment stretched between them, full of possibility and something that felt way too big for a guy who'd known the other guy for less than a week.
River's grip shifted slightly, hands moving from Finn's shoulders to his waist, and Finn felt electricity shoot through his nervous system. The tide pool exploration suddenly felt like the least important thing in the universe compared to the way River was looking at him.
“Uh,” Finn said eloquently.
“Right,” River said, but he didn't step away immediately. His hands lingered at Finn's waist for another heartbeat before he helped him stand properly. “Coffee? I make terrible coffee, but I've got a really good view.”
“I'd love terrible coffee,” Finn said, meaning it more than he'd meant anything in recent memory.
River's cottage was exactly what Finn would have imagined if he'd been asked to picture where a marine biologist should live.
All weathered wood and windows facing the ocean, with the lighthouse rotating overhead like a lazy ceiling fan.
Books everywhere, scientific equipment, underwater cameras, charts and maps covering most wall space.
But walking into it felt like coming home after a long trip, which was ridiculous because he'd never been here before.
“Make yourself at home,” River said, heading toward the kitchen. “Fair warning—I wasn't lying about the terrible coffee.”
Finn wandered to the ocean-facing windows. The view was incredible—the research site they'd just explored spread out below, the lighthouse beam beginning its evening rotation, endless Atlantic horizon that seemed to call to something deep in his chest.
But more than the view, standing there felt right. Like this was his spot. Like he'd stood here before, watching the lighthouse beam sweep across water while coffee brewed and River moved around behind him with comfortable domestic sounds.
“Hey, can you grab the sugar?” River called. “It's in the cabinet above the?—”
“Got it,” Finn called back, already moving toward the kitchen before his conscious mind registered the request. His hands reached for the correct cabinet without hesitation, found mugs and sugar with automatic knowledge, even grabbed spoons from a drawer his fingers located without looking.
River appeared in the doorway with a confused expression, holding coffee beans. “How did you know where everything was?”
Finn froze with the sugar container halfway to the counter. Shit. “Uh... lucky guess? Most people keep sugar near the coffee maker?”
“I keep it there because I'm the only one who uses it. But you went straight to it.” River wasn't accusatory, just puzzled. “And you grabbed two mugs like you knew I'd want coffee too. Plus spoons from a drawer you couldn't see from the living room.”
“Maybe I'm just really good at reading kitchen organization?” Finn tried for casual, but his voice came out slightly strangled.
River studied his face for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe you're just naturally intuitive. I like that in a person.”
The coffee was actually pretty good despite River's protests. They settled on the couch together, close enough that Finn could see the gold flecks in River's eyes and catch the faint scent of salt water that seemed permanently embedded in his skin.
“So,” River said, curling one leg under himself, “tell me something embarrassing about yourself. Something that'll make me feel better about almost dropping you into a tide pool.”
Finn laughed. “You didn't almost drop me. You saved me from my own clumsiness and probably a very cold surprise.” He thought for a moment.
“Okay, embarrassing. When I was twelve, I got so absorbed in reading during a family barbecue that I walked straight into the pool. Fully clothed. Book and all.”
“No way.”
“Completely ruined a first-edition copy of 'Treasure Island.
' My dad was furious, but my mom just bought me a waterproof book light for my birthday.” Finn's chest tightened at the memory of his mother's patient smile.
“She said if I was going to read everywhere, I needed to be prepared for everything.”
River's expression softened with recognition and sympathy. “She sounds like she really got you.”
“Yeah, she did.” Finn looked out at the ocean to give himself a moment. “She used to say that people who love books love stories, and people who love stories understand that the world is bigger and more mysterious than it appears. I think she would have liked you.”
“Why's that?”
“Because you see stories everywhere too. In tide pools, in ecosystem relationships, in the way creatures adapt and survive.” Finn met River's eyes, seeing understanding there that made his chest warm. “You just tell them with science instead of words.”
River was quiet for a moment, something shifting in his expression. Then he launched into an enthusiastic story about accidentally short-circuiting a community center while giving a presentation on sea cucumber reproduction, gesturing so wildly he nearly spilled his coffee.
Finn found himself laughing until his sides hurt, partly at River's description of intestinal defense mechanisms, but mostly at the way River's whole face lit up when he talked about his work.
“You're kind of amazing, you know that?” Finn said without thinking, then immediately wanted to sink into the couch cushions.
River went still, coffee mug halfway to his lips. “Yeah?”
“I mean...” Finn felt his face burning. “Your passion for your work. The way you explain things like they're the most fascinating discoveries in the world. You make tide pools sound like magical kingdoms.”
“They are magical kingdoms,” River said seriously. “Most people think I'm a marine biology nerd who needs to get out more.”
“Well, you are a marine biology nerd,” Finn said. “But that's not a bad thing. It's actually really attractive.”
The words hung between them, loaded with more meaning than Finn had intended. River set down his coffee mug and turned to face him fully, green eyes intense with something that made Finn's pulse quicken.
“Finn,” he started, then seemed to lose whatever he was going to say.
“Yeah?”
“This is going to sound crazy, but... does this feel familiar to you? Not just attraction, but like... like we've done this before?”
Finn's heart stopped, then started beating double-time. “What do you mean?”
“I mean sitting here, talking like this. You knowing where things are in my kitchen. The way we communicate—it's like we've been having conversations for years instead of days.” River ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “I sound insane.”
“You don't sound insane,” Finn said quietly. “It does feel familiar. All of it. Like I've been here before, like I know you better than I should after a few days.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, the lighthouse beam sweeping through windows and painting moving shadows across their faces. Something significant was happening, something that felt bigger than attraction or coincidence.
“That's probably impossible,” River said finally.
“Probably,” Finn agreed. “But impossible things have been happening to me a lot lately.”
River's eyebrows went up with obvious interest. “What kind of impossible things?”
Finn hesitated, then decided to trust the warmth in River's eyes. “Memory gaps. Finding work completed that I don't remember doing. Knowledge I shouldn't have.” He gestured around the cottage. “Knowing where you keep your coffee mugs.”
“That's...” River was quiet for a moment. “That's actually not as crazy as it sounds. The letter you wrote but don't remember writing? It knew things about me that no one should know. Personal details, professional routines, even family history.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don't know what I'm saying,” River admitted. “But maybe we don't have to figure it out right now. Maybe we can just... see what happens.”
Finn felt something loosen in his chest, some knot of fear and confusion that had been tightening for days. “I'd like that. Seeing what happens.”
“Good,” River said, and his smile was soft and real and made Finn feel like maybe impossible things weren't always bad things. “Because I really don't want this to end.”
The lighthouse beam swept through the windows again, and Finn realized they'd been sitting there talking for hours without noticing time passing.
The cottage felt like a bubble outside the normal world, a place where mysterious knowledge and inexplicable familiarity could coexist with the simple pleasure of good conversation and growing attraction.
“River?” Finn said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For today, for sharing your work, for not thinking I'm completely insane when I say impossible things are happening to me.”
“Thank you for listening like my work actually matters. For asking questions that show you're really paying attention.” River's smile turned slightly self-conscious. “And for not running away when I get overexcited about marine biology.”
As evening settled around them and the lighthouse began its nightly rhythm, Finn thought maybe River was right. Maybe they didn't need to understand everything immediately. Maybe some mysteries were worth living with if they brought you to the right person.
Even if that person made your heart race and your rational mind panic and your entire understanding of reality feel like it was built on shifting sand.
Especially then.