Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

F inn

The dart slams into the bullseye with a satisfying thunk, and I raise an eyebrow at Ridge. He whistles low, shaking his head like I’ve just bested him in a gladiatorial arena. “Damn, Finn. You’re deadly tonight.”

“Channeling some unresolved tension, maybe?” Fox chimes in, grinning around the rim of his beer mug.

Liam snorts from the corner, his boots kicked up on a stool. “You mean the neighbor he’s been growling about since she moved in? Yeah, I’d say there’s a little tension there.”

I toss another dart, this time purposefully missing. “If by ‘tension,’ you mean a persistent rooster and a dog who thinks her garden is a buffet, sure.”

“Oh, don’t start with the rooster again,” Ridge says, leaning against the bar. “It’s not the rooster keeping you up at night, Finn. It’s the girl.”

Fox taps his glass on the table. “The childhood sweetheart twist was a nice touch, though. Real Hallmark movie stuff.”

“Hallmark?” I glare at him, regretting telling them all about last night’s revelation. “This isn’t a damn fairy tale.”

“No,” Liam says, his tone dropping into something quieter, something that cuts through the ribbing like a hot knife. “But maybe it should be. Love’s about the only thing that matters in a place like this, Finn. Out here, it’s too easy to lose sight of what’s important.”

The bar falls quiet, save for the clink of glasses and the soft hum of conversation from the other tables. I don’t respond, but the words linger. Love. Important. They feel foreign, like trying to fit into clothes you’ve long since outgrown.

Eventually, Ridge changes the subject, diving into a story about a bear encounter on the trail. I laugh when I’m supposed to, throw a few more darts, but my mind is already halfway home. By the time I step out into the cool night air, my thoughts are tangled in the memory of Tessa’s wide-eyed determination when she told me about her plants, her rooster, and her dreams of starting fresh.

The drive home is quiet, the dark road winding through the forest like a familiar old friend. When I pull into the gravel driveway, Shep hops out of the truck before I’ve even killed the engine, his tail wagging as he trots toward Tessa’s cabin. Her light is still on, a soft glow spilling out from the basement window.

I stand there for a moment, leaning against the truck, watching. What is she doing up so late? And why the hell do I care?

With a sigh, I shove my hands in my pockets and follow Shep’s lead. I knock lightly on the basement door, the sound barely audible over the chirp of crickets.

The door creaks open, and Tessa peers out, her brow furrowing when she sees me. She’s wearing an old sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a messy knot, and there’s dirt smeared across her cheek.

“Finn? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I say, nodding toward the light inside. “Figured I’d check in before you brought another rooster into the mix.”

She rolls her eyes but steps back, letting me inside. I follow her downstairs and the warmth of the basement wraps around me, and the scent of damp soil and fresh greenery fills the air.

“I was repotting some plants,” she says, gesturing to the small table in the corner where a collection of terracotta pots sit. Her hands are covered in soil, her fingers deftly patting down the dirt around a sprig of something green and delicate.

“You’ve got a knack for making things grow,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Tessa looks up, startled, and then a small smile curves her lips. “I like bringing things to life.”

For a moment, I can’t look away. There’s something about the way she’s standing there, so completely herself, that tugs at a part of me I thought had gone numb a long time ago. My time in the military left a mark that’s hard to shake most days. Shutting down makes it easier to get through deployment when you’re in the middle of mass destruction halfway around the world.

“You always this dedicated?” I ask, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest.

“Only when it matters,” she says softly, her gaze meeting mine.

The air between us shifts, the silence stretching out like a taut wire. I take a step closer, the distance between us shrinking until I can see the flecks of soil on her hands, the way her breath catches as I reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Tessa,” I murmur, my voice rough.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, and for a heartbeat, we’re suspended in that moment, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on us.

And then I kiss her.

It’s slow at first, a tentative brush of lips that quickly deepens into something raw and consuming. She tastes like coffee and something sweet, and I can feel her hands trembling slightly as they press against my chest.

I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, my thumb brushing against her jaw. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

Tessa blinks, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. “Me? Dangerous? You’re the one barging in here with all this intensity.”

I smirk, leaning in to trail a line of kisses along her jaw. “You bring it out in me.”

Her laughter is soft, breathless, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“I’ve been wanting to do that again since you got me all wet in the yard,” I admit. Then, before I can stop myself, I scoop her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the old couch in the corner. She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair as I settle her onto the cushions, my hands trailing over the curves of her hips.

“Finn,” she whispers, her voice trembling with something between desire and disbelief.

I pause, my forehead resting against hers. “Say the word, Tessa. Tell me to stop, and I will.”

She hesitates, her fingers curling against the back of my neck. And then she shakes her head, her voice steady. “Don’t stop.”

The words ignite something in me, a fire that’s been smoldering for too long. I kiss her again, my hands mapping every inch of her as the world outside fades into nothing. I savor the taste of her lips, the feel of her soft skin under my hands. And then I pull back, breathless and mind reeling.

“We should stop before this gets out of hand–I don’t trust myself with you, Tessa,” I admit.

Her round eyes catch mine, something like yearning settling in her pretty irises. For the first time in years, I feel alive. Completely alive. And it’s all because of her.