Page 20

Finn

L ooking up at the ceiling fan above my bed, I can’t help but notice how clean it is.

In college, I kept the blades moving nonstop so I wouldn’t have to look at all the built-up dust and grime that collected over the years.

Clearly, Miranda does an awesome job making sure the entire inside premises is spotless and ready for guests at a moment’s notice.

I roll over and hug my pillow against my chest. I nuzzle into the soft fabric of the pillowcase and breathe in deep.

Fresh linen and lavender. Very relaxing.

The linen smell harks back to my freshman year in college.

It was a time of exploration and discovery.

My first real relationship was born in that college dorm—Mark Holloway.

All six-foot-four-inches of muscle and chiseled good looks.

We used to joke that we could cut paper into a straight edge on his jawline.

Unfortunately, two years was all it took for me to realize he was a cheating bastard who used his good looks and charm to get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

I wasn’t the only one under his spell, but I was the last to find out.

What a fool I was back then. In a fit of rage and pain, I vowed never to get into another serious relationship, and here I am, years later and still living in the past.

That was, until I met Wyatt as an adult.

Now, whenever I close my eyes I can’t help but smile.

The image in my mind of him stripping down naked after the competition, his hairy chest, firm ass, and hard nipples, is enough to keep my spank bank full for a while and even make me rethink my self-imposed rules.

Sure, the weather today was cold enough to show our breath and make us shiver, but watching him proudly showing himself off and not bothering to pretend he was shy because of the low temperatures…

or how he didn’t even bother to palm his junk, not that he could have hidden it all behind one hand anyway.

Damn, I’m so fucking intrigued by what I saw.

Also, if I’m being honest, it doesn’t matter to me what he looked like at that moment.

I had so much fun winning that competition.

I really proved to myself that I’m capable of more than I even thought possible.

The look on Wyatt’s face was priceless. The way he smirked when he watched me pick up the axe for the first time, or when I first tested the weight of it while holding it overhead, steeled my resolve to win.

There was no way I was going to let him beat me.

Healthy competition has always been the way people improve themselves, and I imagine my father looking down on me with a big old smile on his face.

I wonder if he thought I could be a lumberjack?

The idea of me wearing flannel all year round and lumbering through the forest looking for a tree to chop down makes me laugh.

It’s so ridiculous, and yet, gratifying.

My mom wouldn’t be able to keep me in the mold she envisioned for me.

“I just want you to be happy,” she’d say.

“Bring home someone nice, get married, and work in a successful office somewhere.” The part she didn’t voice was, “Don’t be anything like your father.

” And the more I get to know my dad through his journal writings, the more I wish there’d been more time for us to connect.

What would my father have said if I’d come out to him? Told him I was gay and there wasn’t anything he could do about it? Would he have accepted me? My mother’s words echo in my mind, “I guess I won’t be getting any grandchildren from you then.”

I close my eyes again and breathe in the scent of my pillow, letting the air out slowly through my pursed lips.

My mother’s words disappear, as does my concern for what my dad would think of me.

The only thing staring me back in my face is Wyatt.

That fucking beautiful smile of his, plastered across his face, making my insides turn to a fluttering mass of butterflies.

Wyatt letting me see him naked, without a hint of shyness on his part, was the icing on the proverbial cake.

I lick my lips. My vanilla lip balm tastes sweet and causes me to think about Doris’ sweet rolls.

My head is all over the place today. One second thinking about food, the next Wyatt lying naked in my bed.

I shake my head and smile. The unexpectedness of moving to Alaska, meeting these awesome people, and now trying to save our family legacy in the Wildwood, has been momentous. It has also been stressful as of late.

Despite my misgivings about ever getting into a relationship again, the more I think about Wyatt, the more I like him.

When we first met as adults, I had absolutely no clue how he felt about me and that I was gay.

In fact, I was a little concerned about him finding out at first. I mean, Alaska is known for its rugged, outdoorsmen.

They can hunt, shoot, chop down trees, and build things.

What can I do? Nothing. Well, actually I can chop wood, but maybe not fell a tree.

Now, lying in my room alone, I desperately want to see him.

We haven’t even been apart an hour yet and I already wonder what he is doing.

Has he taken a shower? Is he lying on his bed thinking of me?

What would my father have said? Knowing I’m gay and developing strong feelings for his best friend’s son?

God, he would have been upset… I just know it.

I know that I didn’t want to change our friendship earlier but my feelings seem to come and go.

Part of me wants to explore, learn more.

Part of me is terrified. Having acknowledged this to myself in the past again right now, there are no actual rules that say I can’t go looking for Wyatt right now and ask him if he wants to have dinner with me.

Come back to my room? Do… whatever? I sit up and grab my phone.

I am an adult and there’s nothing stopping me.

The phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming call. I look to see who it is and my stomach drops. It’s the bank.

Fuck. Now what the hell do they want? Are they calling to rub it in we only have a few days left before the takeover?

“This is Finn.”

“Hello, Mr. Wildwood. This is Mr. Oliver, and I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No bother,” I lie through my teeth. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been going over some of your paperwork and came across something that is quite important. It would be best if we met in person to discuss.”

What now? Could the situation get any worse? Or maybe he’s calling to tell me we have qualified for an extension? I shake my head. That would be a long shot. If it turns out to be good news, I’ll stop on my way home to pick up a lottery ticket from the gas station.

“I can meet you at the bank in an hour,” I say. “Or were you thinking another day?”

“No, no. Today would be best. However, I would prefer to discuss this situation away from the office.” His voice drops in volume as he continues, “It’s a private matter and I would prefer not to risk the rest of the office knowing about it.”

Weird, but okay. “Sure, do you want to come to Wildwood?”

“Tell you what,” he says. “Meet me at the diner next door to the bank. There won’t be very many people there. I’ll get a table in the back.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“See you then.” He hangs up the phone.

My stomach is doing flip flops and threatens to toss out the last thing I ate.

Something about his tone of voice tells me it’s bad news…

at least for me. All my happy and sexually exciting thoughts and ideas are vanquished.

I throw on a coat and grab my keys. Rushing out to the truck, I don’t stop to let anyone know where I’m going, but when I turn to look behind me and back out, Wyatt is watching me leave.

I should have waved goodbye at least.

Tearing my eyes away from the rearview mirror, I focus on the road.

Town isn’t around the corner, it’s a maze of gravel and paved roads, but the ride there seems to take no time at all.

My mind is buzzing with all the possibilities and potential disasters that lie ahead.

I pull into a parking space in front of the diner.

Mr. Oliver was right, this place is empty.

The large plate glass windows reflect just enough light that I can’t see inside well enough to tell if he’s inside waiting, but I have a feeling he is. The red neon DINER sign flickers but doesn’t go out. Although, the N has been burned out, possibly from the multiple bird nests built on top of it.

Getting out of the car, I’m immediately hit in the face with a blast of icy air.

I pull my coat tighter around my chin, lock the door, and hurry into the restaurant.

I’m greeted by a metallic ding of a bell and the cook behind the counter points toward the back rather than saying hello.

I follow his directions and sure enough, the banker sits at the last table to the left.

He looks up and motions for me to come and sit across from him, and I do what he wants, although my legs feel like heavy weights are tied around my ankles, each step harder than the last.

I slide into the booth. Despite there being no one else in the diner, the air is thick with the smell of bacon grease and burnt coffee. The banker is sipping some.

“Thank you for meeting me here on such short notice,” he says.

“Of course,” I say, turning my coffee cup over so the waitress can fill it with the questionable hot liquid. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Sure thing, sugar,” she says and walks away.

“I’m hoping you have some good news for me,” I say before sipping my drink.

He looks down at the folder that sits on the table but doesn’t immediately respond. We sit in an uncomfortable silence until I’m nearly ready to scream. He then slides the orange folder over to me. “Take a look at this, son.”

Ugh. Don’t call me son. I’m not here to be nice, I’m here because I don’t have a choice but to play this stupid game with you. You hold the deed to my property . I want to scream the thoughts going on inside my head, but I hold back. I have to.

Without a word, I open the folder and my heart sinks.

It’s an additional agreement between my father and the bank, with Mr. Oliver named as beneficiary of the entire property, including clientele list, all land rights, and even a non-compete clause.

What the fuck did my father sign everything away for?

“I don’t fully understand,” I say, closing the folder, no longer wanting to see it. I even grab for the coffee as my mouth and throat are impossibly dry, but the hot liquid turns my stomach before it hits my lips.

“It was an addendum to the original loan agreement,” he says. “I had no memory of this existing, but when I found it in the loan documents this morning, I figured I’d better give you the full details.”

How is Mr. Oliver the beneficiary? Aren’t there laws against this kind of shit? Is it because we’re in Alaska? I could get a lawyer, but by the time I did, he would already be in possession of the property.

I’m screwed. Wildwood is screwed.

“What are you planning?” I ask.

He grabs at his imaginary pearls and leans back in his booth as if I’d just slapped him. “Why, Finn? What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s convenient that you have suddenly found this document that gives you everything I own and my family built. No questions asked? Why would my father have agreed to something so stupid and foolish?”

“I believe we’ve gone over this before, but there was a very sensitive situation… your father was dealing with some terrible news. He had no other choice.”

This is rich. “He had no other choice because you had him over a barrel. You exploited him. I’ll find a way to get my family’s property back… just you wait and see.” I scoot out of the booth as fast as I can and turn to give him a hateful glare.

“Enjoy your last few days at Wildwood,” he says with a sickening smile and wave.

“Fuck you,” I say under my breath as I hurry out of the diner. I barely make it to the truck before the tears start streaming down my cheeks.

I can’t shake the feeling I’m letting my father down. There’s no way he would have signed those papers if he thought I wouldn’t be able to save Wildwood.

I’m a complete failure.