Page 26 of Making Home with You (The Rockport Beach #3)

Finn

My phone chimes out with a text and when I glance at it, I’m surprised to see it’s from Ryan.

It’s not that things have been bad between us since he found out about Sarah and me, he’s been totally accepting of the fact we’re seeing each other.

It’s just we don’t usually randomly message each other like this.

But when I open his text, I immediately understand why he’s contacted me. And it takes everything in me not to lose my shit, march over to Carla’s place and sort all of this out, once and for all.

Ryan: you should look at this.

I click on the link he’s texted and it opens to some Boston news site, an article about a small-town police chief, A.K.A me, being under fire from one of the local residents, A.K.A Carla.

It’s completely biased, unresearched bullshit that belongs in the tabloids. As much as I know I shouldn’t give a shit about it, that I should let it go because really, who’s even going to read it, I can’t.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble as I scan through the article a second time.

It gives nothing away, no mention of what the so-called allegations are about, but there’s enough information there that anyone with half a brain could read between the lines and figure it out.

Fuck, I hope Sarah doesn’t see it.

Shaking my head, I text Ryan back.

Me: how’d you find this?

Ryan: Joe sent it to me. Does Sarah know about this?

I let out a long exhale. Hell, this is the last thing I need right now.

Me: yes, mostly, but I’d appreciate you not sharing this with her.

Ryan: wtf is going on Finn?

I don’t reply, instead hit the call button and ring him. Ryan picks up straightaway.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he repeats.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” I answer sarcastically.

I hear Ryan exhale. “Sorry, that was harsh,” he concedes. “How are you?”

“Fucked,” I reply.

“I can see why,” he says. “What’s going on? Erin mentioned this woman has been giving you some shit, but going to a reporter? That seems kinda extreme.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “That’s the kind of woman she is,” I admit. “But regardless, it’s all bullshit, okay? Please trust me when I say that, Ryan.”

“I do,” he says quickly, and I immediately feel relieved. “Does Sarah know though?”

“She does,” I say carefully. “Not all of the details, because I can’t actually talk about it, but she knows something’s going on, yes. And like I said, Ryan,” I continue, “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t show her this. She’s got enough going on without having to worry about my drama.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything at first and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to work out if me keeping things from Sarah is such a good idea.

Hell, maybe he’ll just ignore my request and show her the article anyway.

As much as I might think he’s okay with us seeing each other, god knows Ryan and I don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to the women he cares about.

“Alright,” he eventually says.

“Thank you,” I reply, grateful. “I really appreciate it.”

“If there’s anything I can do though,” he adds. “Anything at all, you let me know, okay? God knows I owe you.”

For a second, I’m actually stunned into silence, unsure if I heard him correctly. “What?” I eventually get out.

“I owe you, Finn, for all the times you kept Erin safe, you know that.”

My head falls back as I stare up at the ceiling. “No you don’t, Ryan,” I reply, deadly serious. “I was doing my job and I was taking care of a friend, you know that. You don’t owe me at all.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do, seriously, let me know.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “Appreciate it.”

After I hang up, I send off an email to the detective I spoke to about Carla’s allegations, including the link to the bogus news article and a single question; can she do this?

I don’t get a reply, so forcing myself to focus on my job, I get back to work.

By the time I’m packing up for the day, there’s still no response from Detective Greenwood, but there is a text from my brother. Sighing, I open it.

Beck: family dinner, you coming? We need to talk.

“For fuck’s sake,” I can’t help but mutter, when am I going to catch a break here?

Sighing, I fire back a quick response.

Me: yes, am bringing Sarah too.

Beck: ok, cu tonight.

For a second I’m tempted to reply and ask him exactly what we need to talk about. But maybe I’m reading too much into it all. Maybe it’s something to do with the pub or their wedding or any number of other things that have nothing to do with the shit I’m currently dealing with.

Grabbing my things, I shoot Sarah a quick text, reminding her about dinner, before going home to shower and change.

After I’m done, I swing by the station to pick her up. The train is still five minutes away, so rather than freezing my ass off on the platform, I sit in my car, Googling Carla’s name in an attempt to find out how far she’s been spreading these lies about me.

It looks like it’s only the one article, but I can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning. Just as I close the app, my phone pings out with a new email. Opening it, I see Detective Greenwood has responded.

It’s not illegal, but it’s hardly appropriate. Thanks, I’ll look into it.

I exhale at his response, knowing there’s not much more I can do seeing as I’m not involved with the case.

But it’s hard not to feel completely fucking useless in all of this, especially when it feels like I could sort everything out if Carla and I could just sit down and talk to each other.

But I know that’s never going to happen, so I just have to accept that this is out of my hands and trust that Detective Ian Greenwood knows what the fuck he’s doing.

My head is pounding with all the things I can’t do by the time the train pulls into the station. Trying to ignore the stabbing pain behind my right eye, I slide my phone into my pocket, get out of the car, and head toward the platform.

“Hey,” I say, smiling as she steps into my arms. “You okay?”

Sarah smiles as she looks up at me. “I am now,” she replies, pressing a kiss to my lips.

I pull her close and together we walk back to my car.

“How was your day?” I ask as I open her door.

She glances at me quickly, before looking away. “Okay,” she replies. “Do we have time for me to change before dinner?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Of course,” I reply, not bothering to look at the time.

The drive back to my place is mostly quiet, neither of us elaborating on our day. It’s an easy silence though, despite everything that’s running through my head, all the things I don’t want to burden Sarah with.

By the time we get to Pop’s place, we’re a few minutes late. Beck and Kelsey are already there and it’s Beck who greets us at the front door.

“Hey,” he says, kissing Sarah on the cheek before giving me a slap on the back and a half hug.

We head inside and both my dad and Kelsey greet us before Kelsey drags Sarah off to discuss the work she’s doing for her and how well it’s been going. Despite the exhaustion I can see on her face, Sarah’s eyes light up when they start talking.

“Kels loves all the things she’s done for her,” Beck says, as we both watch them talk. “She’s really good at it.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” I say.

“We should think about getting her help with the pub,” he adds.

I turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

Beck nods. “Yeah, absolutely, you should see the stuff she’s done for the inn,” he repeats.

It occurs to me as Beck says this, that I have no idea what Sarah has done or is capable of. All I know is she’d told me marketing and PR was her thing, but I’ve never actually asked to see any of her stuff, even knowing she was helping Kelsey out. It kinda makes me feel like a dick.

“Food’s up,” Pop suddenly shouts, and Beck and I can’t help but laugh, knowing it’s Kelsey who made dinner and dad who just carries it to the table.

Just as we make our way over, Beck stops me, a hand on my arm. “Can we talk after dinner?” he asks. “Privately?”

I nod not bothering to ask why, even as a sinking feeling creeps in. There’s only one reason.

Dinner is light and easy and mostly filled with talk about Beck and Kelsey’s upcoming wedding.

It’s hard to believe it’s finally happening.

After all the years and all the shit they’d been through, I’m not sure anyone expected them to finally get to this point, even if it’s exactly where they always should have been.

Beck reminds me of a final fitting we have for our suits, before telling the girls and Pop we’ll clean up so they can relax in front of the TV.

“So, I got a visit from a Detective Greenwood today,” Beck says as soon as we’re alone in the kitchen.

My head immediately starts pounding again, my body tensing as any sense of relaxation I was finally starting to feel instantly evaporates. “And?”

Beck stares across the kitchen island at me, his face unreadable. “And it seems this thing is getting pretty serious,” he states.

I shrug. “It’s not ideal, no.”

Beck shakes his head. “Do you think maybe you need to get yourself a lawyer?”

I start the water, squeezing some detergent into the sink so I can start washing dishes. “I don’t think it’s at that stage,” I reply, having no idea if that’s true. “What did he want to speak to you about?”

Beck stacks dishes beside the sink before grabbing a dishtowel and moving around to dry. “He asked me what I knew about Carla, about what had happened between you two that night at the party. Anything that had happened since.”

“And what did you tell him?” I ask, still not looking at my brother.

“I told him the truth, Finn,” he says, hand on my arm. I glance up and find Beck watching me, a hurt look on his face. “What the hell did you think I’d tell him?”

I let out a long exhale, suddenly completely exhausted. “Sorry,” I say, meeting my brother’s stare. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“I know,” Beck says, squeezing my arm before letting go. “But I’m worried about you, about what this is doing to you.”