Page 46 of Faithless Vows

I blink at him, a spark of indignation flaring.Me? I only nearly went down because of him.

And then it hits me, not just Finn standing in front of me, but Finn here. Finn in my lane, in the middle of my morning, like the last six years haven’t happened at all. I move without thinking, stepping into him and wrapping my arms around him, holding tight. “Finn,” I blurt, too loud. “It’s you.”

He goes still for half a second, like he didn’t expect it. Then his body eases, and his arms come around me in return. I feel his cheek rest against the top of my head. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It’s me.”

We stand like that for a moment before it occurs to me that I’m still holding him, my cheek pressed to his chest.Jesus. He’s gotten tall.

I let out a small, awkward laugh and step back too quickly, nearly tripping again in the process. Finn’s hands tighten, steadying me, then fall away once he’s sure I won’t go down.

“Sorry I scared the bejaysus out of you,” he says. “My da’s in a meeting with your grandda. He mentioned you might be about, so I thought I’d find you here. It was always your favourite place.” He rubs the back of his neck, like he’s suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. “I was only trying to get your attention,” he adds.

I just stare at him, everything I want to say tripping over itself.Where have you been? Did you know I was home? Why haven’t I seen you?

I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the Walsh twins since I got back. I kept expecting to. Thought I’d run into them somewhere, or that they’d come by the house.When it didn’t happen, I started to wonder if they just didn’t want to see me.

I asked Róisín about them once. She said they’d both been busy. Finn had been brought further into his da’s work. Catríona had been helping her mam more around the house. I left it at that.

Finn shifts his weight and looks past me, down the lane toward the shore. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. Too quickly. I clear my throat and answer more slowly this time. “I’d like that. As long as you’re not in a rush.”

He shakes his head. “My da won’t notice I’m gone for a while. He’s with your grandda. They’ll be at it for hours, the pair of them.”

That makes me smile, because it’s true. The men in my family can make a ten-minute conversation last two hours if there’s tea involved and someone willing to argue. I start to walk on, assuming he’ll fall into step beside me, but Finn reaches out and tugs lightly at the hem of my sweater, stopping me. I turn back to him.

“You look well,” he says.

I blink at him, then glance down at myself. Borrowed boots, one toe scuffed. Declan’s sweater—thick wool, brown, and cut for shoulders broader than mine. My braid hangs over my shoulder, the end fraying slightly where it’s come loose. I might have taken the don’t dress to impress part of being home a bit too seriously, apparently. I make a soft, embarrassed sound and drop my gaze, nudging a small stone with the toe of my boot. “Erm… you too.”

A low, rough sound leaves him, like he’s holding back a laugh. “I missed you, Lannie.”

My gaze stays on the ground for a moment longer before I lift it again. “I missed you too,” I say, and it comes out softer than I expect.

We walk on together without rushing. The puddles get worse the closer we get to the shore, where the ground dips lower, but I give up trying to avoid them. It’s probably safer just to walk through. The low stone wall comes into view, running along the edge of the lane the way it always has. Iclimb up onto it like I’ve done a thousand times before, and Finn settles beside me, close enough that our arms brush.

The sea is rough today. Waves crash against the rocks farther down the shore and creep higher up the sand before pulling back again. The wind tugs at my hair, loosening a few strands from my braid, and I tuck them behind my ear. Finn clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says.

I tilt my head toward him. “What for?”

He exhales, shaking his head. “That came out wrong.” He looks back out at the water, his brow pulling together as he searches for the words. Then he meets my eyes. “I’m not sorry you’re here. I just… wish it hadn’t been under circumstances like that.”

My throat tightens. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m just glad to be home.”

We sit in silence for a moment, watching the water. It’s comfortable, sitting here beside him. “I missed this,” I say, and I don’t mean only the sea.

Finn keeps his eyes on the water. “It was always your favourite place.”

I lean my head against his shoulder without thinking, and his arm comes around my shoulders, settling there. My eyes burn, and I swallow hard, refusing to cry on a stone wall like I’ve wandered into the sad verse of an old song. “How’s Catríona?” I ask, shifting the conversation to safer ground.

Finn’s mouth curves. “She’s grand. And she’s been dying to see you.”

My heart lifts. “She has?”

“Oh yeah,” he says. “She was raging she didn’t spot you sooner. Keeps asking anyone from your place what you look like now, like you might’ve come back with a different head.”

That pulls a short, genuine laugh out of me. “And neither of you came up before now,” I say, before I can stop myself.

He glances at me, then back at the water, his arm easing away from my shoulders as he scratches at the seam of his jeans with his thumb. “My da said to give you time to get your feet under you. Figured you’d have enough people in your face.”