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“Hey, honey, can I get you a plate?” Finn asked.
She looked up at him, her eyes shining with affection and gratitude and genuine happiness. “Would you? My feet are killing me.”
“Be right back.”
Finn grabbed a place in line and loaded up a plate with a little of everything before returning to her. Damon had taken the seat on one side of her, but the chair on the other remained empty when he returned with his own food.
Everyone gathered together, sharing food, joy, and cheer. Link was the last to join them, opting rather to sit at the kitchen bar with the teens than take the empty seat next to Emma.
“What’s that about?” Finn leaned over and asked Charli.
She glanced between her friend and Link before turning to him with a shrug. “Not quite sure, but it seems to get worse every year.”
After dinner, some of the guests broke off into games. The more the drinks flowed, the louder it got. His family’s home wasn’t small, but it wasn’t huge either. His head rang from the extra noise. His chest tightened as anxiety twisted. Needing some space, he stepped out the back door, not bothering with a coat. Sucking in the crisp winter air, he tipped his head towards the pine trees at the edge of his parents’ yard creating long shadows in the quickly fading sunlight. The snow sparkled, reflecting the illumination from the windows in the house. The door behind him opened and shut with a click. Finn turned.
Charli’s worried gaze was directed at him. “You okay?”
He hesitated. “It’s too crowded in there for me.”
“We can go home. I’m pretty tired myself.”
He studied her. “You sure?”
She nodded, turning to return inside. He took a step to follow her, but she stopped.
“Finn?” Charli turned back to face him.
“Yeah?”
“Can you . . . I mean . . . Would you stay tonight? I just . . . don’t want to be alone on Christmas,” Charli asked, biting her lip.
Finn stepped forward, tugging it free with his thumb. He smiled. “I still owe you that dance.”
“I’m not . . . I mean, I just wondered if you’d hold me tonight.” Her eyes looked up to him, vulnerability flashing.
“Absolutely.” Holding her tonight would be the best gift he could have asked for this Christmas. And just maybe the magic of the holiday season could repair some of what was broken. Maybe Finn could be the man Charli needed.
45
Finn
It was New Year’s Eve, and the bar was loud and crowded. They’d tripled up on bartenders tonight, and Mason had got together a few more guys for extra security. Finn pulled the handle of the beer tap, carefully filling the order for one of the customers. Despite his request, Charli was busy as ever taking orders at the other end of the bar. Her stride represented much more of a waddle at thirty weeks into her pregnancy. She reached for a bottle, the strain evident on her face with her belly against the shelf.
Finn handed the beer to the customer. “It’s on the house.” He came up behind her before picking the vodka from the shelf and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She smiled.
“Isn’t there some payroll that you can work on in the back room instead?”
She huffed. Her eyes narrowing. “I am not made of glass. I can do this . . . I just might need some help reaching stuff.”
He chuckled. “Alright.”
She mixed the drink while he leaned against the counter. “You doing okay?”
His body hummed with the constant need to be aware, looking out for danger. This was one of the most difficult parts of his PTSD—the hypervigilance. His therapist had given him some techniques to ground himself, but he would need a break sooner than later. “I might step out back for a few minutes.”
She nodded. “Now might be a good time while there’s a break in the crowd.”
