Page 3 of What You left in Me

“Finn,” she greets, her voice is taut but hopeful. “Your new sister.”

Oh. He’s still here.

It’s his dad’s wedding, of course he’s still here.

My cheeks are on fire.

He tilts his head, dark eyes sliding to mine. For a moment, it feels like he doesn’t see me at all, just the space I’m occupying. Then, he inclines his head once, curt. “Miss Vale,” is all he says. His voice is cool and low, a little raspy as if from disuse. It isn’t hard for me to believe he hasn’t talked to anyone all day.

Despite my better judgement, I beam at him, “Hello,” I chirp, clutching my little purse tighter.

He doesn’t reply to it, just keeps on studying me like I’m a nuisance. I notice that his girlfriend’s nails flex against his sleeve and the silence between us gets a little awkward as we stand there looking at each other.

For a second I think he looks sad, though he hides it like he’s had practice.

Why would a person who has everything in the world would look like that? He probably doesn’t like Mom, and he obviously has zero interest in this marriage.

Before I can make sense of it, he turns abruptly and walks off, without warning or even the courtesy of a backward glance,leaving me standing there with my smile still half-raised. Heat pricks my cheeks.Stupid. That’s what I get for almost feeling sorry for him.

I watch him disappear into the crowd, his dark suit folding into the blur of bodies and glittering lights until he’s just… gone. For a second, I’m not sure if I imagined the whole thing. The cold look, the sadness, and the way he walked away like I never existed. The music swells, swallowing the moment, and I force myself to breathe, to move, to not look after him again.

By the time twilight drapes itself over the estate, fairy lights string themselves into constellations above us. low and sweet music plays, and it continues to smell like roses mingled with lake water. Mom glides across the dance floor with Richard, and her laughter rings out. I almost don’t recognize it. I want to bottle it up and keep it in my dresser drawer for when something goes wrong.No. Shut up! Nothing’s gonna go wrong. Things are about to change.

I’m sitting at a round table now draped in white linen, sugared cake melting on my tongue, listening to the scrape of forks and the rustle of dresses. Candlelight makes everything soft. Mom catches my eye mid-spin and blows me a kiss across the floor, mouthingThank you, like I did something to give her this moment.

I wave back with sticky fingers, my chest ballooning with pride.

At the edge of the reception, I glimpse Finn again. He hasn’t danced. He hasn’t smiled. His hand rests on the small of his girlfriend’s back before he starts moving toward the driveway.

No farewells. No glance back.

Just the gleam of headlights as a black car swallows them both and disappears into the night.

I don’t know him. I’ve barely met him. But something in his quiet exit unsettles me. Like watching a shadow pull itself loose from the rest of the light.

Mom appears behind me snapping me out of my thoughts and brushes a curl from my cheek. “He’ll warm up,” she insists, her eyes following the car that peels down the street in defiance of the residential speed limit. “He’s just not used to joy. I think.”

I nod, pretending to understand. But I wonder how someone could grow cold to happiness, as if joy is a language you can forget.

I would never take joy for granted.

Mom has dated men before, good and decent men, but none of them stayed. Some didn’t want the complication of a daughter, some couldn’t handle the way she took charge, the way she set rules and refused to bend. She was too bossy for them, too proud, too much. And every time one left, I watched her fold herself into her room, heart cracked but never broken enough to stop her from trying again.

This time it feels different.

Richard acts at her like being bossed around by her is a privilege. Like he doesn’t mind that we come as a pair. Like he wants us, both of us, as we are. He wants to be a part of our family, and for us to be a part of his. He’s told us both that, over and over, in no uncertain terms.

I close my eyes, tilt my face to the wind, and whisper, “Please let this stay. Let this family last.”

Because too many times, it hasn’t.

It’s a secret prayer, fragile as lace.

A faint rumble drifts in from beyond the trees, thunder rolling far off, hinting at an oncoming storm. But it fades beneath the lap of the lake and the echo of my mother’s laughter. For tonight, everything feels safe.

Chapter 1 – Finn – The Man Who Stayed Gone

The jet lag hits when I step out of the terminal and into the sticky Willowridge air. Tailored grey shirt, black slacks, no tie. My sleeves are rolled up my arms, becausefuckformality in this godforsaken fucking heat. Sunglasses mute the sun’s glare, but it does fuck all for the headache pulsing behind my eyes. I don’t usually get headaches. Well, not unless family’s involved.