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Chapter thirty-eight

Finn

The tension that, seconds ago, was full of electric energy between me and Foxx has immediately dissolved into something much more unforgiving.

I’m staring at the guy in the doorway, who stands there with a smug and pissed-off expression on his face. Something skitters down my spine, cold and icy, as he looks me over with disdain.

I’m pretty sure I don’t have to ask who he is. Judging by the way Foxx seized up and the way the guy used his first name, I’m guessing this is his ex, Ryan. Plus, he’s the same guy in that picture from Foxx’s early social media days, I’m sure of it.

He steps forward slightly, hands in his pockets, like this is normal. “I’m Ryan,” he says casually. “Foxx’s husband.” And bingo, I was right.

I scoff before I can stop myself, and shift, planting myself a little more squarely in front of Foxx, as if I could physically keep the past from getting too close.

“Ex, from what I hear,” I say, tone dry.

Ryan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole thing. That arrogant tilt of his mouth makes my fists clench at my sides. This fucker really believes he has some kind of claim over Foxx. “Semantics,” he says with a shrug.

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Pretty fucking big one, don’t you think?”

Ryan just smirks, the whole thing apparently beneath him. Like I’m beneath him. And I realize, in a sick sort of way, he’s not here for Foxx. Not really. He’s here to rattle him. To remind him of whatever power he used to have, because I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been around for years now.

Foxx still hasn’t said a word. I glance back, just long enough to see the look on his face.

He’s frozen, pale, his mouth open like he wants to speak but can’t quite get the words to form.

And I get it, I do, but what am I supposed to do?

Seconds ago, he felt like mine, and now, it’s almost like he’s slipping through my fingers like sand.

There’s too much heat in my chest, too much static behind my eyes, and if I stay, I know I’ll say something I can’t take back, that could make things worse for Foxx.

So I step away slowly, like I’m not completely unraveling.

“I’m gonna head out,” I say, my voice relaxed, even though nothing inside me is. “Let you two talk.” I have no idea if that’s what I should do here, but what I do know is that they have history that doesn’t involve me.

Foxx flinches, and his eyes finally meet mine, but I can’t get a good read on him.

There’s something there, regret, hesitation…

but it’s locked down. “Finn…” he says, and the way he says my name undoes me a little, but there’s a thread of something else, like he knows he has to deal with this without me.

I give him a smile that feels like it belongs to someone else. “Call me later, okay?”

It’s not anything I’d normally say to him, but it’s the only thing I can think of. So, I turn on my heels and leave.

I make it down the hallway without looking back, but my heart is pounding, my brain scrambled. I’m not sure if I’m overreacting or not reacting enough.

Out the door, the crisp, open air fills my lungs, and I realize it’s the first breath I’ve taken since leaving his side.

By the time I slide into my car, my hands are vibrating, not with anger, but something messier.

I’m not mad at Foxx; I’m just confused, and the reality is, I’ve just left my guy in a room with his ex. That feels monumentally stupid.

“Fuck!” I shout as I grip the wheel, knuckles white. I could go home. I should go home to my parents’ house and calm down. Instead, I bring my phone out of my pocket and dial my sister’s number.

I just need to be around people who know me. Who feel solid.

She answers on the fourth ring.

“Hey, Finn, what’s up?”

“Are you home?” I ask quickly.

“Yeah, are you okay? You sound strange.”

“I’m…” I pause, because what am I? Sad? Upset? Confused? All of that and more. “Can I come over?” I ask, pushing the words out before they get stuck in my throat.

“Always. We’re home.”

“See you soon.”

It only takes a few minutes to get to their apartment, but it feels longer, like I’m driving through molasses, stuck in my own head, replaying the look on Foxx’s face when I left.

I don’t know if I want to punch something or just lie down and pretend none of this ever happened, because the scenarios plaguing me make me feel criminal.

When I push open the door, the scents of popcorn and candy hit me.

Liv is the first person I see, Daphne’s best friend since forever.

She goes to Washington State, but they try to get together often, and I completely forgot she was coming down this week.

She’s curled up on the couch in sweatpants and an oversized WSU hoodie, dark hair scraped into a bun as she cradles a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one hand and scrolls her phone with the other.

She looks up, eyebrows raised. “Jesus. Who kicked your heart into traffic?”

“Hi, Liv,” I mutter. “Nice to see you too.”

Her mouth pulls into a smirk, and she sets her phone down, spoon still dangling loosely from her fingers. “You look like shit,” she says, but it’s gentler now—well, in the way Liv does gentle. “C’mere, loser.”

I cross the room without thinking, and she shifts, lifting the edge of the blanket. When I collapse onto the couch beside her, she immediately drapes the blanket over both of us.

Daphne comes in a second later, eyes scanning my face like she already knows something’s wrong. “Finn…”

“I’m fine,” I lie. Liv hands me the pint of ice cream wordlessly, and I take it, scooping a hefty mouthful.

“I think we’re battling heartbreak warfare over here, Daph. Play that song. We need to hype him up and get him angry instead. I’m already at my angry stage.”

Daphne doesn’t even ask which song. She pulls out her phone, and within seconds, the opening chords of “Good 4 u” start playing over the speakers, although quietly, because I’m guessing Rosie is asleep.

I groan into the spoon. “Oh, come on. We don’t need the song. That’s not—”

“There’s no heartbreak like a Rodrigo-certified heartbreak. Let it wash over you, Finn. Don’t fight it.”

“Wait, are you heartbroken too?”

“I’ve been dating a guy who I’m ninety-five percent sure is married, so I ran away here instead of confronting him. What do you think?” she deadpans, just as Hudson pops out of the bedroom then too, closing the door softly.

“Uh oh, are we at this point already, Liv?” He looks to me. “Hey, man, when did you get here?”

“Right before these two decided I need to be serenaded by Olivia Rodrigo.” Liv tries to soothe me by brushing my hair, but I push her off my head. “I’m not a cat, Liv, don’t pet me.”

She snickers and steals the spoon from my hand, just as the chorus kicks in, singing into it in hushed tones—probably trying not to wake Rosie, though the dramatic hand gestures don’t exactly help. And despite my state of mind, it’s really hard not to laugh at her.

I cover my face, shaking my head, but the grin slips through anyway.

Liv just winks and keeps going, mouthing the lyrics like it’s her personal therapy session. Across the room, Daphne starts humming along too, barely holding back her laughter.

And I give in.

Not all the way, but enough to hum a few words under my breath. Enough to point at Liv on the chorus. One thing about Liv is that she’s always a bottle of fizz on the brink of exploding.

The music stops, and we all deflate back onto the sofa. “So, now you can talk to us,” Daphne says. “What happened?”

Hudson settles next to my sister with a few bottles of water he hands out, and all eyes are on me.

“Foxx and I were in the classroom. Alone. We were…close. Like…uh, anyway. And then his ex walked in.”

Liv perks up. “Oooo, are you screwing your professor, Finn?”

I don’t answer right away. Just level her with a look as I yank the spoon back from her hand and take another bite, like it’s the only thing keeping me from melting into the couch.

“That’s a yes,” she mutters under her breath, satisfied.

Daphne glares. “Liv.”

“What? I’m invested.”

“I’m not screwing him,” I say finally, even though my voice isn’t exactly steady. “It’s not like that.”

Then I think about what it is like. I said to Daphne last week that I’d fallen fucking hard, and I know that’s true, because the unhealthy amount of possession I feel for him since the weekend away, makes me stay awake after he’s fallen asleep, just staring at him being peaceful.

It’s not the soft kind of feeling either. It’s sharp. It cuts. Like I could rip the world apart with my bare hands if it ever tried to take this from me.

And maybe that’s what scares me more than anything else—not the fact that I feel this much, but how fast it snuck up on me.

How deep it already runs. How known he feels.

Like my body’s been waiting for his weight in the bed beside me.

Like his breath was always meant to steady mine.

Because part of me still thinks this is going to disappear.

That I’ll wake up and it’ll all have been some cruel dream, and I’ll be alone again, pretending I’m okay with quiet nights and empty mornings.

And fuck, if that’s not the most beautiful and terrifying thing.

“Jesus Christ,” Liv breathes, her eyes a little too wide now. “You’re in it. ”

I scrub my hand down my face.

“Yeah, okay? I’m in it. And when Ryan showed up, I immediately felt like I’d lose him, which is ridiculous, because he’s been nothing but amazing. He listens. He cares. He makes space for me without asking for anything back. Like just being around him makes me…more.”

My voice cracks a little on that last word, but I don’t care.

“He makes me want things,” I say. “Things I told myself I didn’t need.”

There’s a stretch of silence, and I can feel it settle in the room.

Then something hits me so deep in my chest it steals my breath.

What if he thinks me leaving, me not saying anything, was a sign that I don’t want this?

That I don’t want him? What if he’s telling himself that Ryan showing up means something, that it’s safer to slip back into whatever version of himself existed before me?

My heart pounds harder. I sit up straighter.

I want to be there for him. Not just in the moments where it’s easy. I want to show up. Be the person he turns to when he’s had a bad day. When he doubts everything. When he forgets that he’s already changed my whole life without trying.

“Shit,” I breathe. “I have to go.”

Daphne blinks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, already standing, my arms and legs feeling like they’re full of static energy. “Yeah. Because if he’s sitting there wondering if this is real, if I’m serious, I don’t want him going to bed with any doubt.”

Liv whistles. “Rom-com energy. I love this for you.”

I shoot her a look, already moving toward the door. “Also, Liv, dump the asshole. You deserve better than a lying cheat.”

My chest is thudding like I’m standing on the edge of something huge, and I know the second I jump, there’s no going back. But I don’t care. I need him to know.

That I’m all in.