His throat works on a swallow. "A few scrapes and bruises on your right temple and cheek."
"That's not so bad."
"Debatable."
This is not the reunion I'd planned. Finn is here, and clearly worried about me, but he's distant and fairly humming with some emotion I can't figure out. My memory clears a little more and a bolt of horror runs through me. "Oh, shit."
Instantly, Finn jolts as if pinched. "What? Are you hurting? Talk to me."
"Jake. How is he?"
Finn settles down with a scowl then rubs a hand over his face. "He sprained his neck. And, like you, has a concussion. He's out for the season but, all in all, he got lucky."
"I saw it happen. I was so scared."
His skin pales, and his lashes lower. "Me too."
"I know. I should have been there."
Finn glares down at his fists.
I want to touch him, stroke away the stiffness along his neck and shoulders. But he looks as if one touch will shatter him, and I don't know what to say to bridge the gap between us. "Did you win?"
The muscle on his jaw bunches. "Yes. We weren't going down without a fight."
But there's no emotion in his words. He keeps glaring at his fists as if he's thinking of punching something. I don't know what to do.
"You were magnificent," I tell him with a soft voice.
///
He grunts.
"Are you mad at me?"
"Yes."
It lashes like a whip.
I bite my lower lip, look away, blinking hard.
None of the harshness leaves his voice. "I'm trying not to lose it."
Guilt pulls at my heart. He witnessed his best friend get knocked out on the field. Jake could have died, and I know how much that affects Finn.
"I can't believe you're here." My voice is a thread, reaching out for him.
Silence greets me instead. The force of his stare is a heavy hand on my chest. I turn to face him. Wide eyes filled with outrage and anger glare back at me.
"You think I'd be anywhere else than at your side?"
"Jake-"
"God … " Finn laughs but then, without warning, his eyes well up and his lips twist. I stare in shock as his chin quivers and he lets out a harsh exhale that ends in a strangled sob.
"Hey," I whisper.
His chest heaves, a horrible pained movement, and he leans in, rests his head on my belly. "Fuck, Chess," he says on a choked breath. His arm slings around my hips, fingers clutching my side. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you like this. I cannot stand seeing you hurt. I can't."
I stoke his hair. "It's okay. I'm okay."
"It's not okay." He lifts his head and looks at me with eyes that are wet. "I got that call from James telling me I needed to get to the hospital because you were there, and my life fucking stopped. Do you understand? Your life stops, mine does too."
A shudder racks me, my heart swelling in the hollow cavity of my chest. "Oh, Finn. Come here."
But he doesn't listen. He sits back in his chair, his expression resolute and hard. "So, yeah, I'm mad. You left me. And you got hurt. You can't get hurt. And you can't leave me again, Chester. I won't survive."
My big, strong man waits for an answer, his body tense in the char, silvery trails of tears running down his cheeks. He's left his heart wide open for me, without shame or hesitation.
My vision wavers, and I blink to clear it. When I'm able to speak, emotion garbles my words. "Take my hand."
Shaking, I hold out my own, waiting.
Finn's brows pinch, his gaze darting from my face to my hand. I meet his eyes and hold his gaze. Does he know what I'm asking? Does he understand? Emotion bounces between us, and then all at once his expression clears. A small smile unfurls, as he reaches out.
His warm, rough palm presses against mine. Our fingers thread. Something inside me settles into place with a silent click.
I give Finn's hand a squeeze. "I was coming to find you. To tell you that I loved you."
He lets out a breath. And then he's crawling into bed with me, tucking my body around his hard strength. Soft lips brush my temple. Finn cups my cheek with infinite care. "I love you so much, it scares me."
I lean into his touch with a sigh. "That was my problem too. But I'm not scared anymore." My fingers toy with his longer ones. "I think no matter how my life played out, I would have found you. I would have loved you."
His eyes squeeze shut and when he opens them, they are shining. "You're my fate, Chess. I've known that since the beginning. I was meant to be yours."
"I told James that you were my fate."
He gives me a pleased smile. "Some things were meant to be."
I huff out a laugh. "That song … A band started playing it, right in the middle of my dinner. Every person in the place singing along. How am I supposed to ignore a sign like that?"
He laughs. "You don't."
I lay my head on his shoulder, and we both rest. The steady beat of his heart soothe me. Finn strokes my knuckles with an idle touch.
"I'm sorry I left the way I did," I finally say.
Finn stirs. "I wasn't hearing you when you said you were afraid. Not the way you needed me to hear it, anyway."
He turns his hand to that my palm rests on his, so that he's now holding me. "You think I need to father a child to be happy, because of what I lost. And it was easier for me to brush that aside with quick assurances than to really ask myself if that was true."
A tremor goes through me, and he tightens his grip as if he knows I want to pull away. Finn's voice is steady and sure, but taut with a hint of wryness. "Football is easy, if you want to know the truth. Easy in the way that I'm gifted. I fail it's all on me. I can control that. I never really lost anything that mattered to me until the baby."
Long fingers curl over mine. "I couldn't control that. It changed me, made me afraid. And what I feel for you is fucking terrifying. Because I can't control you either. I can only love you and hope for the best, that you'll love me back, that I can keep you safe and happy."
///
"I am happy," I whisper, turning further toward his body, to press close. "You've always made me happy. I panicked. But I shouldn't have. Because you are worth any risk."
He lets that absorb, pressing his lips to my head. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Chess. But I owe you an answer. Because I panicked too. And I should have taken that same risk."
Nerves pluck at my belly. I don't know why; he loves me. I love him. I know my worth, and I know he see it too. But some feelings cannot be changed, no matter how much you want to ignore them. I go still, letting him say what he has to. And maybe it's hard for him, because he takes his time, measuring his words as if they have weight.
"Thing is, when I lost my child … I lost someone to love. I didn't realize it until then, but I needed that. I needed love in my life. Someone who makes all the effort worth it." Finn shifts on the bed to that we're fact to face. "I love you, Chester Copper. More than anything. It isn't a matter of that being good enough; it is essential. You take yourself out of the equation and the rest has no meaning."
I don't know who moves first. Our kisses are soft, sweet, apologies mixed with promises. After a lingering press of his mouth to mine, Finn strokes the sensitive side of my neck with the backs of his fingers. "You want to adopt a child, employ a surrogate, do both, that's what we'll do. But I don't need that. Not now."
"I don't need that now either. I'm happy with it being just us."
His cheek brushes mine. "Whatever we choose, we'll do it together. As long as we're together, Chess."
"Together." It is a word ripe with possibilities, and I cannot wait.
Epilogue
Chess
* * *
In the spring, Finn bought me a house for my birthday. And I let him. It was surprising how liberating it felt, not worrying about what kind of message that sent or if I'd be trapping myself by allowing him spend so much money. I'd placed my life in his hands and he'd done the same. Every day the threads of our lives grew more intertwined, and we were stronger for it.
We chose a house on Third Street in the Garden District. Built in the 1850s, it was a Greek Revival style with double galleries along the front and the back of the house, and surrounded by wide lawns, with a pool tucked in the back. We painted the stucco a pale violet to represent New Orleans purple, with white for the trim. The high iron gates-which we needed for privacy-were a glossy dark green. And I was in love, true love with the massive old house.