Page 22

Chapter twenty-two

Finn

I’m groggy as hell today, unlike my niece, who’s kicking her little legs on her play mat like she’s trying to take flight, fists clenched, eyes wild, cheeks flushed with effort.

She’s got that focused look in her eyes.

She looks just like Daph right now. My sister gets the same look when she’s going for something she wants.

And Rosie’s about to throw down with that smug stuffed penguin she always side-eyes.

“I’m not a fan either, baby girl. That penguin looks shifty.”

She grunts, high-pitched and determined, wriggling her tiny body with so much drama. Her neck strains, feet plant, hips twist like she’s channeling all her baby strength into this one, singular mission. She’s tiny, but so freaking strong.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn, dropping to my knees beside her. “You’re not allowed to roll for the first time when your mom and dad aren’t here. That’s betrayal, Ro.”

She turns her head toward me, eyes big and sparkling like she knows. Like she’s about to roll and then gaslight me into thinking it didn’t happen.

“I mean it,” I say, hands hovering like I’m ready to intervene in case she pulls some Matrix-level baby move. “You wait until your mom and dad get home. I swear, if you flip over before they walk through that door, I’m never going to recover.”

Another grunt. Another determined little kick. Her arm flails wildly and lands on the penguin, knocking it over like she’s asserting dominance.

“That’s right,” I mutter. “Take your rage out on him, not me.”

Then her torso tilts, hips roll, and for a terrifying second, she rocks halfway to her side, enough that her weight shifts and gravity starts doing the rest.

“Shit, no, no, no—” I lunge, my palm brushing the edge of the mat as she almost — almost —makes it all the way over. But she doesn’t. Thank fuck.

Instead, she collapses dramatically onto her back, arms flopping to her sides, lips puckering in frustration. I sit back on my heels, exhaling hard, heart actually pounding. “Jesus, Ro. You’re gonna give me a heart attack before you hit six months.”

She gurgles sweetly, content to bat at the plastic giraffe dangling above her like nothing just happened.

I collapse onto the floor beside her, sprawled on my back, my breath caught somewhere between excitement and fear and exhaustion.

“You chill,” I murmur. “No rolling. Not today. Not on my watch.”

She coos and makes some noises as I try to muster the courage to sit up again, but all the fight has left me.

Talking to Foxx the other night has brought some of the nightmares back.

I haven’t had many since moving back here, but last night, I was under the water, searching for what felt like hours, only to never find Jared.

It’s the same as always; the moment I dive under the water plays like a loop, but I’m only ever met with the ocean staring back at me, waves above my head.

I rub my eyes, trying to erase the memory that feels so vivid still when the front door opens.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Hudson calls out, keys clinking into the bowl. His voice echoes through the entryway.

“In here,” I manage, still flat on the floor.

His steps thunk as he rounds the corner, brown paper bag in one hand, his hoodie in the other.

“You look dead,” he says, grinning. “Ro finally win the cage match?”

“She’s more savage than she looks,” I reply as I sit up on my elbows. I don’t mention the near-roll, because I’m 99% Hudson would cry if he knew he missed it. Daphne too, but Hudson for sure would blub.

Rosie squeals when she sees him, all gummy smiles and flailing limbs.

“Hey, little monster,” he coos, kneeling beside her. “You giving your uncle hell?”

He ruffles her light curls and drops a kiss to her cheek, then flops onto the floor beside me, digging into the paper bag.

“I got that turkey sandwich you like. And an extra cookie, because I’m an excellent provider.”

I chuckle. “Thanks.” He hands me the sandwich, and I take it but don’t unwrap it. Just hold it, fingers working at the edge of the foil like I’m thinking about opening it. I am thinking about it. But mostly I’m just...here. Stuck in the weight of last night. Of dreams I thought I’d outgrown.

Hudson opens his own sandwich, takes a huge bite, chews for maybe two seconds, and then side-eyes me.

“You’re not eating,” he says, mouth half full.

“I will,” I say with a tired yawn.

He studies me for a second longer, then wipes his hands on his jeans and leans back against the couch. “You sleep at all?”

“Some.”

He hums, not buying it. “What’s up?”

I drag a hand through my hair, keeping my eyes on Rosie as she bats at the giraffe again, like it’s personally wronged her. “I saw Foxx the other night.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. Daph said something was going on with you and Professor Jones.”

I want to snort at the Professor Jones name because I don’t see him that way, but I hold it in.

He grins. “Don’t panic. She wasn’t being a weirdo about it. Just said you seemed lighter. That you’ve been...different.”

I haven’t really updated Daph that much since the day in Mug Life. I kinda told her we hooked up, but not much else. “Did she say how?”

“Just that she was freaked out that you were smiling so much.”

I pick off a piece of the paper around my sandwich and throw it at him. “She did not. I always smile.”

“I think she’s right. Except for today, you’re less smiley today.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Foxx and I were together, and some surfing stuff came up.”

Hudson stays quiet, placing his sandwich on the coffee table.

“Didn’t get into everything,” I say, watching Rosie stretch one arm. “But I got close to something I haven’t said out loud in a long time. It didn’t even come up fully, but it was there. Right on the edge.”

I finally unwrap the sandwich, peeling the foil back halfway. I’m not sure I’ll eat it.

“That why you didn’t sleep?”

I nod once. “Same dream. I’m underwater and I can’t find him.”

Daphne knows about the nightmares too, but Hudson has always been open and supportive in a way that Daphne used to tell me about when she was pregnant. I believed her, but being on the receiving end makes me really happy that she’s found someone like him.

“I thought I was past this part,” I admit as I tear off a piece of turkey with my fingers and set it back on the foil.

“Coming home helped more than I expected it to. Therapy helps. But then I go and actually connect with someone and, suddenly, boom. Back under because I have to let them get to know me.”

“Sometimes the quiet lets the stuff you’ve been ignoring bubble up,” Hudson says, matter of fact. “You and Jared weren’t…?”

I glance at him. “No, we we’re just friends.”

Hudson takes another bite of his sandwich, chews thoughtfully, then says, “So…is it serious?”

I blink at him.

“With Foxx?” he clarifies.

“Oh. Uh…” I rub the back of my neck not sure what to admit when we’ve had a rocky start to whatever this is. “I don’t know yet. It feels…” I feel a little bad that I’m not admitting this to Daphne first, but here it goes… “It feels like I can breathe around him. Even when it’s hard.”

He nods again, like that makes perfect sense. “That sounds serious enough to me.”

I finally take a bite of my sandwich, and my stomach doesn’t completely reject it. That feels like progress too.

“Professor Jones has always been the biggest eye candy the math department has ever seen. You struck gold, Finny.”

“The whole fucking gold mine,” I mumble around a bite.

Rosie lets out a grunt just then, plants her feet, and before either of us can process what’s happening, she rolls. Like, full roll. Face-down, triumphant, legs kicking like she just completed an Olympic routine.

Hudson freezes mid-bite. “Did she just—?”

“She rolled ,” I say, eyes wide.

“No. Shut up. Did I just witness my daughter’s first roll?!”

I wince. “Technically, yes. Officially? I think we both know what we have to do.”

Hudson takes a second to realize what I’m not saying, then lets out a whine. “She’s going to know, ” he mutters. “Daphne knows everything. She’s gonna take one look at me and know that I’m keeping something from her.”

“Yeah, well…distract her with something else,” I say, leaning down to adjust Rosie on the mat like I didn’t just commit to a lifetime of deceit, “we take this one to the grave.”

“She’s gonna interrogate me. I’m a terrible liar.”

“I know.”

He shakes his head, eyebrows pinched. “I crack under pressure, Finn.”

“I know. ”

Rosie flails her arms with all the glee of someone who has no idea that we’re going to have to lie to her mother for eternity.

“I’m not emotionally prepared for this,” he mumbles.

I sit back on my elbows, watching Rosie like she’s some kind of tiny god of mischief. “She waited till you were here. That counts for something.”

He peeks at her from between his fingers. “She’s gonna be trouble.”

“She’s already trouble.”

“God, I love her.”

“Same.”

Hudson sits up and nudges me with his knee. “You deserve something good, Finn. You know that, right?”

I nod, throat a little tight. “I’m starting to believe it.”