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I knew that they would change my life that night at the bookstore. Deep down inside, I know I’m supposed to belong to them and them to me.
However, as peaceful as I feel, a constant state of panic still stirs deep within me. There are so many unknowns it’s impossible not to let my mind wander. We have yet to hear from Ronan’s contact in Ireland, which has prevented us from moving forward with any kind of plan regarding not only Declan but their father as well, and I’m still locked inside this apartment, unable to come and go as I please. I know the guys just want to keep me safe, but I can feel myself slowly crawling out of my skin. I miss my things, my favorite coffee shop, my books… the store. If all of that weren’t bad enough, I can still feel it. Deep down in the depths of my soul where I keep the last part of me under lock and key. The part of me that allows me to give myself over to them. The part of me that feels love like I never have towards another. If I give them that last piece of me, if I hold it out and let them take it, they can crush me. It will destroy me if I lose them, like I’ve lost everyone else.
But, I could keep them just far enough away, there will still be enough of me left to put myself back together when they’re gone. Despite how we all feel for one another, a relationship like this can’t continue forever. Right? Someone will get sick of it. They’ll tire of having to protect me, to worry about me constantly. They’ll tire of having to share me with one another. Someone will get hurt. Someone will leave. And part of me knows that as selfish as it is, if I can’t have all three of them, I want none of them. I don’t want to think about these things. I want to live in the present with them, to soak up all the happiness I feel when I’m around them, but I can’t stop thinking.
I’m in the middle of flipping the burgers when I feel a strong set of arms wrap around me. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even hear him walk in the kitchen. His clean smell envelopes me, instantly calming all of the thoughts I was just swimming in. Turning in his arms, I find Finn in a white V-neck, delectable ink-covered arms on display, and gray sweatpants. Very unlike him. “No suit today?”
“Hmmm…” He stares down at me, taking in the way I look in nothing but one of his button-ups. His hand works its way under the hem and tightly grips my waste. “I don’t have any plans today except being here with you. Besides, you seem to have stolen my shirt.”
I set the spatula on the counter behind me, run both my palms up his chest, over his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. “Well, I didn’t have any of my clothes in your room, and mine was so far away.”
“Oh really?” Finn lowers his head so his lips rest gently on my ear.
“Yes, really.”
“Because I think you just wore one of my shirts to torture me all day.” He gently tugs the lobe of my ear between his teeth. “Do you even have any panties on?”
I tap my lips with my pointer finger as if I’m thinking hard about my answer. “You know. I must have forgotten.”
“Fuck… Harper.” Pulling me tightly against him, I feel his rapidly growing erection.
I’m feeling a little sassy toward him today after the torture he put me through last night. I use the word torture loosely because I really did love every delicious second of it. But that’s beside the point. So, I smile coyly and pat him on the chest, “Now, now, Finn. Can’t you see I’m busy? Don’t want me burning these delicious burgers, do you?” I see a fire light in his eye at my brattiness. It only spurs me on “Hands off. Go take a seat until lunch is ready.” I watch as he tries to hold off the impossible smile that takes over his face, and what a beautiful smile it is. I’ll never tire of seeing this side of Finn.
He gives me a firm slap on the ass before stepping away from me, rounding the kitchen island, and climbing onto one of the stools. “Keep it up, Angel. I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me. It’s in your best interest if you behave.”
I must be a glutton for punishment for today. “Yes… Daddy.”
He points a firm finger at me, “Harper. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” I tip my head back and let out a deep laugh.
They really are easy to rile up.
After a moment, I notice a familiar tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I wiggle a finger toward his chest, “What does that mean?”
Instantly his hand, almost instinctively, moves up to his chest and begins rubbing at the black ink. Almost like the reminder of the word is causing his pain. He closes his eyes and sits back in his chair. I almost immediately regret asking him. I could have looked it up, but I wanted him to explain it. Finn doesn’t seem like the type of person who gets tattoos that don’t mean anything. Finally, he lowers his hand and opens his eyes to look into mine. The ravenous look he had in his eyes only minutes ago has disappeared, and in its place is pain.
It’s a Gaelic word, “teaghlach.” The foreign word sounds beautiful coming out of his mouth, like when Mac calls me Mo grá. I don’t ask him what it means; instead, I wait for him to tell me when he’s ready. Whatever it means obviously causes him pain.
A moment stretches between us, and I want to go to him, to hold him and let him know that I’m here, but I know that’s not what he needs. Finn’s love language isn’t physical touch like Ronan’s or words of affirmation like Mac’s. No, Finn just needs me here, to be around when he needs me. He needs moments, no matter how small, to feel connected with the people he’s around. So I don’t move. I just wait. After a few minutes, he sits up straight in his chair, looking like he’s trying to summon the courage to explain it to me. He looks at the burgers and then back at me. “Those about finished?”
“Ummm,” I give them a quick once over and then turn off the flame. “Yeah, they’re done.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and cover them. We’ll eat when the guys get back. They should arrive shortly.”
“Oh. Okay.” I hesitantly go about plating and covering the burgers in foil before setting them inside the microwave to keep warm. I worry that’s the end of a very short-lived conversation when Finn gently speaks, “Come over here, Angel.” I walk around the island and move to pull out the chair next to him before he grabs my wrist, halting my movement. “What are you doing?”
“Uhhh… sitting?”
“Not there.” He pats the counter in front of him, “Right here. I want to be able to look at you when I tell you this story.”
My tall frame easily allows me to slide onto the counter in front of him. He rests his palms on the tops of my thigh and begins mindlessly rubbing one of his thumbs in small circles. I can tell he’s hesitant to talk to me, so I reach up and run my fingers through his perfectly groomed beard, “It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
His somber eyes stare at mine, and when he’s ready, he takes a deep breath before speaking. “I told you once my parents died. That the McDermotts took me in as their own.”
“Yes…”
“But you never asked me how they died.”
It’s not a question but a statement. “I know better than anyone how it feels to lose your parents. What it’s like to relive that day over and over again every time you are forced to talk about it. It chips away at your soul. So, no, I didn’t ask you to tell me what happened, and I won’t ask you to.”
