Page 11

finn

. . .

I’ve spent years memorizing the constellations of freckles on Hazel’s shoulders, but watching them darken under the summer sun today aboard the whale cruise feels like discovering them all over again.

We barely make it through the front door of the cottage before her hands are in my hair, pulling my mouth to hers with an urgency that steals my breath. The salt air clings to her skin as I press her against the wall, my fingers fumbling with the knot of her sundress.

“Bedroom,” she gasps against my lips, and I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her down the hall.

The late afternoon sun filters through the gauzy curtains, painting golden stripes across Hazel’s body as I lay her on the bed. Her chestnut hair fans out against the white pillowcase, those hazel eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I confess, watching a slow smile spread across her face.

“Show me,” she challenges, reaching for the hem of my t-shirt.

I pull it over my head and then lower myself to her, savoring the way her breath catches when my bare chest meets hers.

The sundress slides away easily, revealing the black bikini she’s been teasing me with all day.

I trace the edge of the fabric with my fingertips, memorizing the contrast against her sun-kissed skin.

“Finn,” she whispers, arching into my touch. “Don’t make me wait.”

I’ve never been able to deny Hazel anything. I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, between her breasts. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, urging me lower. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her bikini bottoms and slide them down her legs, my mouth following their path.

When I taste her, her thighs trembling beneath my palms, I feel like I’m a teenager again. Her hands guide me, showing me exactly what she needs, and I give it to her willingly and reverently.

“I need you,” she pants, tugging me back up her body. “Now.”

I shed my remaining clothes and hover over her, brushing her hair from her face.

For a moment, we just breathe together, our bodies aligned but not yet joined.

This is what I’ve always wanted—Hazel looking at me like I’m her anchor in a storm, her hands mapping the contours of my back like she’s claiming territory.

When I finally push into her, the sensation is overwhelming. Her body welcomes mine, tight and slick and perfect. I have to close my eyes for a moment, fighting for control.

“Look at me,” she commands softly, and I do.

We move together slowly at first, savoring each sensation. But soon, the tenderness gives way to something more primal. Her nails score my back as I drive into her, her name falling from my lips like a prayer. She wraps her legs higher around my waist, changing the angle until she cries out.

“Right there,” she gasps. “Oh, Finn.”

I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Twenty years of loving Hazel—from childhood crush to adolescent longing to this consuming adult need—all of it culminates in this moment, in the way she trembles beneath me, around me.

When she comes apart, her body clenching around mine, I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck and breathing in the scent that has always meant home to me.

Afterward, I hold her close, our limbs tangled and our hearts beating in tandem. The setting sun casts the room in amber light, and I trace idle patterns on the small of her back.

“What are you thinking about?” she murmurs against my chest.

I could tell her I’m thinking about tomorrow’s schedule or the tech problem I need to solve for her website. But the truth spills out instead.

“I’m thinking that I never want this to end, Haze. I love you so much.” I press a kiss to her temple. “And I’ll love you long after the stars burn out.”

She goes still in my arms, and I feel her breath catch against my skin. For a moment, the only sound is the distant crash of waves against the shore and the thundering of my own heartbeat. I wonder if I’ve said too much, pushed too hard against the walls she’s built around her heart.

Then she lifts her head, those hazel eyes searching mine with an expression I can’t quite read. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, tender and deliberate.

“Finn,” she whispers, and there’s something fragile in her voice that makes my chest tight.

“I love being here with you. I wish I could find words eloquent to tell you how much I love you.” No matter how many times she confesses her love, it exceeds my expectations.

Over the years, I imagined hearing them countless times, but nothing prepared me for reality—the way her voice wavers with emotion, the vulnerability in her eyes as she offers me her heart.

“Please, don’t ever stop,” I breathe, needing to hear those words one more time to believe they’re real.

A soft laugh escapes her lips, and she leans down to kiss me, slow and sweet. “I love you, Finn Morgan. I fought my feelings for so long, I won’t ever pretend again.”

I roll us over until she’s beneath me again, framing her face with my hands. “You never have to pretend with me, Haze. Not about anything.”

She nods, blinking back tears that catch the fading light. “I know. That’s what scares me.”

I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “We’ll figure it out together. We always do.”

The cottage grows quiet around us as evening settles in, and I pull the sheet over our bodies. Hazel curls against my side, her head on my chest, and I feel something shift between us—something deeper than desire, more permanent than passion.

“The ice cream shop,” she says suddenly, and I chuckle.

“Now you’re thinking about work?”

“I’m thinking about us,” she corrects, tilting her head to look at me. “About what this means for everything.”

I smooth her hair back from her face. “It means we stop dancing around each other and start building something real. Together.”

Her smile is radiant in the dim light. “I’d love that.”

“Me too,” I say, tracing her lips with my thumb. “More than you know.”

She kisses my palm, her eyes drifting closed. I watch her breathing slowly, memorizing this moment—the weight of her against me, the trust in her surrender to sleep.

The cottage creaks around us as I hold her, my mind racing despite my body’s exhaustion. I’ve wanted this for so long that having it feels almost surreal. The cynical part of me wonders if tomorrow she’ll retreat if the morning light will bring back her hesitation.

But I push those thoughts away. This is Hazel—my Hazel—and whatever fears she has, we’ll face them together.

I must doze off because I wake to moonlight streaming through the windows and Hazel’s absence from my arms. For a panicked heartbeat, I wonder if she’s gone, but then I hear the soft padding of her feet in the kitchen.

I pull on my boxers and follow the sound, finding her wrapped in my discarded t-shirt, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders as she rummages through the refrigerator.

“Hungry?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

She jumps slightly, then smiles over her shoulder. “Starving. Mind-blowing sex works up an appetite.”

I laugh, crossing the room to wrap my arms around her from behind. “Mind-blowing, huh?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” she teases but leans back into me. “Your ego is big enough already.”

I press a kiss to her neck. “Only about some things.”

She turns in my arms, a container of leftover pasta in her hands. “Want to share?”

We eat cold pasta straight from the container, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, passing a fork between us. The domesticity of it hits me—how natural this feels, how right.

“What?” she asks, catching me staring.

“Just thinking about how many times I’ve imagined this,” I admit. “You, me, some random midnight snack. Being together without pretending we’re just friends.”

Her expression softens. “I imagined it too, you know. Even when I was telling myself I didn’t want it.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, setting the pasta aside. “Remember last summer when we stayed up all night on the beach watching the meteor shower?”

“Of course.” It had been torture, lying beside her on a blanket under the stars, wanting so badly to pull her into my arms.

“I almost kissed you that night,” she confesses. “When you pointed out Cassiopeia and your hand brushed mine. I wanted to so badly it hurt.”

I reach for her, drawing her onto my lap. “Why didn’t you?”

She rests her forehead against mine. “I was scared. Of ruining our friendship. Of not being enough. Of loving you so much that losing you would destroy me.”

“Hazel Brown,” I murmur, “you could never lose me. Not ever.”

Her smile is tender as she kisses me, slow and deep. I carry her back to bed, and this time, when we make love, it’s unhurried—a gentle exploration, a promise of forever in every touch.

Later, as she drifts off to sleep in my arms, I make silent plans. For tomorrow, for next week, for our future. Because now that Hazel has finally let me in, I’m never letting go.