Page 64 of Finn's Future

When Reaper and Lucy had asked me to come for the weekend, I’d agreed too quickly, like I’d been waiting for someone to give me a reason to see them again. Truth was, I missed them. Missed Noah’s sleepy noises in the middle of the night. Missed Kate moving around the kitchen in the mornings. Missed having someone else in the house besides my own thoughts.

The last nine days had been too quiet. I kept waking up thinking I’d heard Noah crying before remembering the house was empty.

I rubbed my palms together slowly.

“She means nothing to me.”

The words still sat badly in my head.

I’d said them because Reaper was watching too closely, and because the club came first. That was the rule. Always. But Kate had heard them, and I’d seen her face afterwards.

The cabin door opened softly. I didn’t turn straight away. Kate moved carefully, quietly. The porch shifted under her weight as she stepped outside.

“You should be inside,” I said. “It’s warm in there.” I glanced back.

She stood near the door with her arms loosely folded, strands of hair catching the porch light. For a minute, neither of us spoke, and the silence wasn’t comfortable anymore.

Eventually, I stood. “Kate.”

She looked at me cautiously. “Yeah?”

I looked out towards the trees before continuing.

“What you heard in Reaper’s office . . . you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Her eyes dropped briefly. “But I did.”

The quiet stretched between us.

“I said it for Reaper,” I admitted.

She gave a small shrug. “I figured.”

That should’ve made things easier. Instead, it made something settle heavily between us.

Not anger. Something quieter than that. Like she’d expected disappointment from me all along.

“I didn’t mean it,” I said.

Her glassy gaze lifted to mine for a second before drifting away again. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

Yeah, it did.

“It matters to me.”

For a second, she just looked at me. Then, she shook her head slightly. “I think I just read too much into things.”

“You didn’t.”

She looked down at the porch boards. “The bedroom . . .” she started. “The way you looked at me, kissed me.” Her cheeks pinkened faintly. “I thought maybe it meant something.”

I stared at her. It had meant something. A lot more than I’d been ready to admit.

“You do mean something,” I said.

She looked at me again, then really looked, and something in her expression softened before she pulled it back. “You protected Noah and me,” she said. “You made us feel safe.”

“You say that like it’s small.”