Page 5 of The Nicest Thing

Two thousand words a day.

That was my writing goal, and usually, I hit it.

When I was really on, I could double or even triple that number.

How hard could it possibly be to write a contract? The answer to that was: Very. Apparently, coming up with a document covering all the possible pitfalls of this deal between Finn and me was difficult. I still wasn't sure I got it right.

But after three drafts, scribbling until the wee hours of the morning, I'd fallen into a restless sleep. Even when I woke up, memories of Finn on my bed, looking at me with those intense gray eyes, haunted me.

Maybe this was a sign.

If safeguarding our friendship was this hard, perhaps we shouldn't do it.

I bit my lip as I looked over the contact(s) again. My car's air conditioner was on full blast. It was hot outside, and as I sat in the parking lot of the Southern U Wolves' practice field, I started to sweat.

Why was I doing this again?

My phone started ringing, and I answered immediately.

Grandma Rose never called this early.

"Hey yaya, what's wrong?" I said.

"Hello, granddaughter," she said, "how are you?"

"I'm fine. But what's wrong?"

"Nothing, honey. Why do you sound so worried?"

I shrugged even though she couldn't see it. "Your soaps are on. You never call during your soaps."

"Ah yes, well, it's reruns today," Grandma Rose said. "Luckily, it's an episode I love, or I'd be writing them a colorful letter about how at my age, I don't have all the time in the world. You know?"

I exhaled with a smile.

She was good.

Nothing bad had happened—at least, not yet.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, meaning it. "And I still say you'll outlive us all."

"I might at that," Grandma Rose said with a laugh then paused. "Actually, I do have something to tell you."

I waited.

"That mean director sent me another nasty gram."

My eyes closed on a wince.

"I didn't want to bother you, mi carino. But it's the third one this week, and well…"

"Oh no, yaya. What'd it say?"

"A bunch of nonsense." She scoffed. "Something about how rent is due, and if he doesn't get it, they'll kick me out on my rear. Blah, blah, blah."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I thought we had another week."

"Pssh, what are you apologizing for? You're not to blame."

She sniffed, and I could practically see her frown.

"It's that Director mierda."

I shook my head. "You shouldn't call him that…even if it is true."

Director Redmond really was a shit.

"Well, maybe if he stopped being a little shit, I wouldn't," she said, echoing my thoughts. "But perhaps you're right. I'll switch to Director putain. The French curses don't sound nearly as insulting but pack twice the punch."

I laughed, couldn't help it. It was either that or cry.

"I miss Angela," she said wistfully.

"Me too," I said.

The old director of Silver Pines Senior Living was an angel on Earth.

She cared about the residents, saw them as actual people and worked with us to find solutions for payment options in difficult times.

Unfortunately, she'd been replaced last year with Director Shaw Redmond.

He sent threatening notices—what yaya called "nasty grams"—never remembered the seniors' names, and only cared about money.

"Sorry again, yaya. I was already planning to come tomorrow morning. I'll see you bright and early for our tea."

"Stop apologizing," she said.

"Okay."

"And don't forget the strawberry jelly."

"You got it."

"Ah, my little Rose, I love you so," she said.

"I love you too, yaya," I said. "Call me if you need anything."

"Same to you, mi carino. See you soon."

"Bye, yaya."

After she hung up, I took a deep breath.

Everything was fine. I had the money for this month.

There was nothing to fear. But my sales were dipping; the prices at Silver Pines kept climbing, and Grandma Rose's call was the reminder I needed.

Gathering my papers, I strode toward the field in search of my best friend.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Once I reached the bleachers, my eyes found him immediately.

It wasn't that hard. Finn was in the third row.

He had a notebook resting on his lap and a pencil in one hand as he took notes.

His attention was fully on the field. The other people in the stands—girls mostly—shifted their gaze between various players and…

him. Finn O'Brien had just as much pull.

More really. The O'Brien force was strong with him.

I knew he was writing stats. Finn tried to explain to me once how he input all the data and analyzed it to produce the best outcome for both the Wolves and each individual member of the team.

I didn't follow everything, but my big takeaway was that my best friend was a genius.

A sentiment shared by the entire Wolves baseball team.

Despite their star players—Finn's older brothers—graduating and going on to play professional ball, the Wolves were still in contention for a run at the championship.

It was a testament to his mother's coaching. But I knew Coach O'Brien would be the first to give Finn credit. He didn't play the game. He worked behind the scenes to make everyone else better, not needing praise or adulation.

I grinned as he called out something to the players, pulling out my camera quickly to capture the moment. I kept filming as he stretched then ran a hand over his neck, and Finn caught sight of me a second later. His slow smile was warm and devastating.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied, set the phone down, closed the distance between us and gestured to his face. "You really shouldn't look at me like that."

"Why not?" Finn asked.

"It's too much. No one will believe you're that happy to see me."

"But I am." He shrugged. "I'm happy whenever I see you, Rose."

"Can I please use that in one of my books?" I said.

"Sure."

"And the 'I want to be used' line? I meant to ask about that."

Finn laughed softly. "Rose, you officially have permission to use anything I say in your books."

"Thank you." I did a little victory dance then got serious again. "Also, careful, that's a lot of power you just gave me."

He shrugged like it was nothing. "Why were you filming me?"

"Thought it would make a good reel."

"But I wasn't doing anything."

"You were being you," I said.

"Yeah, taking stats. Your next book must be about an accountant type." Finn laughed. "Hot."

I elbowed him. "Nerd hot is a whole thing. You should know this as my best friend."

"Well, if it helps you write, I'm glad I could be of service. Even in a small way."

I laughed, but it came out slightly forced.

Finn never seemed to notice, but pieces of him were in all my books.

Some of my heroes' best lines were things Finn had said to me.

Not in a romantic context, of course. But he was so effortlessly sexy.

Finn read my books; I knew he did, but part of me was glad he'd never put two and two together.

If he knew, I'd have to look for a new muse, and to be honest, after Finn? I didn't think anyone could measure up.

"Hey," he said, drawing my attention once more, "what do you have there?"

Following his gaze, I remembered the documents I held and the reason I was here.

"I'm glad you asked," I said. "These are the terms and conditions of our arrangement."

Finn's brow furrowed. "Oh yeah?"

"Hmmm." I pushed the papers into his hands and watched as he flipped through them, trying to control my nervous energy. "I came up with three versions of the contract."

"Wow," he said.

"I know," I said and rolled my eyes at myself, "short, medium, and long. I wasn't sure which you'd want to go with."

Finn's gaze narrowed as he read.

"There's also a schedule of dates and times we could film and a list of ideas for posts. I tried to keep both our schedules in mind."

No response.

"We'll go with the one you like best," I said quickly. "And of course, you can make edits if you want."

When he was finished, he looked up, meeting my eyes.

"You really think we need all this?" he asked.

"I just want to protect our friendship."

"Me too."

"I tried to be thorough. You know?"

He tilted his head. "'The undersigned agrees to a marriage of convenience.'"

I nodded.

"The undersigned will perform husbandly acts as required.'"

"Like pretending to be my husband at events—though I don't think we'll really need that part. Only for the couples' brunch. But just in case."

"No unnecessary intimate acts?"

My cheeks heated. "Um yes, I thought that would keep the lines firmly drawn."

"What's that mean exactly?"

"Well, no kissing, no hugging, no touching." My face went even hotter, but I added, "No sex…obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated, but his voice sounded strained.

A moment passed.

"This is a lot."

"I know," I said.

"I have a counteroffer," Finn said.

My lips turned down, but I said, "Okay…"

"What if we keep it simple?"

I liked the sound of that, so I nodded for him to go ahead.

"I can tell you worked hard on this, Rose," he said. "But I only think we need one rule."

"What's that?" I asked.

"No matter what, we always tell each other the truth."

I swallowed as Finn stared into my eyes.

"You good with that?"

"Um," I said then shook my head. "I mean, yeah, that sounds good."

"You hesitated."

"I was just thinking."

He lifted a brow and shot me a playful grin. "There something you want to tell me, Rose?"

"Nope, nothing."

I smiled brightly, hoping he wouldn't pry further, and thankfully, Finn let it go. As I watched, he flipped the short version of the contract over and wrote:

Rule #1: We always tell each other the truth.

Beneath that, he scrawled his signature then handed me the pencil. I took it, quickly adding my name.

Finn held out a hand, and I placed my palm in his.

We shook.

And that was that.

"I'm going to kiss your hand," Finn said.

My eyes widened as his lips met my knuckles. It was soft, warm, and lovely. He looked up at me from beneath his lashes and winked.

"Thought it was necessary."

I huffed a laugh, but as his lips lingered, my heart was racing.

"Hey, O'Brien."

We both looked to the field. The baseball player who'd called his name lifted his chin.

"Come play with us," he said.

"Not today, Graves." Finn nodded to me. "I'm talking."

"Oh, we see that," one of the other guys said with a shit-eating grin. "Been talking for a minute. But maybe when you're done talking, you can help us out."

Finn waved him off.

Another guy said, "Looks like he'll be talking for a while."

"Can't blame him," the second guy threw me a nod. "What's your name, sweetheart? You like baseball? What about baseball players?"

"Keep it up, Wasserman, and I'll stop helping you with that batting average."

The guy promptly shut his mouth.

"Hey, were my stats better today?" Graves asked.

"Yeah, you had a good practice," Finn said. "Velocity's better, less drop off on speed. But if you want to level up, you still need to work on accuracy."

"Meaning?"

"Make the ball go where you want it to go. Less balls, more strikes, more control over the strike zone."

"Thanks, got it."

Finn turned back to me, but before he could say anything, someone shouted, "Heads up, O'Brien!"

Looking back to the field, I froze.

There was a ball heading straight for us.

It was moving fast—faster than my eyes could track.

I knew I needed to move, but my brain was not communicating with my body.

My eyes widened as it came closer, but before I could panic, Finn's hand shot up.

He plucked the ball out of the air like it was nothing.

I exhaled heavily, and Finn's eyes were on me, his hands checking my shoulders, neck, face.

"Are you okay?" he said.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Are you?

"I'm fine."

"That ball was moving fast. Your hand must hurt like a mother."

Finn shrugged then turned to the baseball players, a fierce frown on his face. "What the hell is wrong with you? You could've hit her!"

"Nah man, we knew you'd catch it," Graves said confidently.

"Maybe you'll come play with us now?" Wasserman said.

Finn was not amused.

"I said"—the youngest O'Brien drew back his arm and fired the ball at the smiling player—"I'm busy."

The ball flew into the man's glove, and he winced.

Shaking his hand out, he said, "Why aren't you on the team again?"

Finn just shook his head before his eyes fell on me. His voice turned soft when he said, "You sure you're okay, Rose? Always tell the truth, remember?"

"Yeah," I said, standing up and backing away. "Hey, I need to run to the bank. I should go. You go ahead and play."

"But—"

"Bye, Finn."

"Bye, Rose."

I sped walked to the parking lot, not stopping to take a breath until I was safely inside my car.

The vision of Finn reaching in front of me to catch that ball replayed over and over in my mind.

Why was that so…hot? I felt warm all over but tried to bring back some calm.

I was almost there when I noticed the contract in my lap.

Looking down, I re-read the words Finn had written.

Our rule, one promise, one sentence that was supposed to preserve our friendship.

We always tell each other the truth.

I chuckled quietly, the sound a little sad, the irony not lost on me.

There was only one truth I'd withheld from Finn.

A lie by omission.

Looking back toward the field, I saw him and sighed.

My truth was this: I was in love with my best friend.

Had been for a very long time.

Though I'd tried to deny it, ignore it, stop it, I couldn't help feeling this way.

I was in love with Finn O'Brien—and he could never, ever know.