Unrequited(39)

"If I had to do it all over again, I never would have done that thing." She couldn't bring herself to even voice that she'd slept with her brother-in-law. "I wanted to hurt your father, but not in this way!"

"I know, Mom," I said. "I know."

But I didn’t think she heard me over the sobs. She left, and I finished up breakfast, hoping like hell the day would turn around. It had to, right?





13





WINTER


Finn woke me, but I wasn't sure it was morning. There was no sun, and the room looked dark. I curled deeper into the covers where it was warm and smelled like us.

"Want to go for a ride?"

Reluctantly I pulled my head from under the covers. "Can the horses see in the dark?"

He chuckled. "Yes, they can, but it's not dark. It's six in the morning."

"Are you a morning person, or is this a special occasion?" His dark hair looked damp on the ends, which I supposed meant he showered, probably shaved, maybe even ran five laps. He was one of those.

"Morning person," he grinned unrepentantly. "But I brought you fresh coffee and breakfast to soften the blow."

I rolled over to see a tray with a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon. There was also a glass of orange juice and a mug that had steam rising from the top. "If you tell me that OJ is fresh squeezed, I'll scream."

"Whew." He swiped a hand across his forehead in mock relief. "It's from a bottle."

"Fine." I sat up grumpily and ran my fingers through my hair. One advantage of being Chinese was that bedhead didn't really exist for me. My stick straight hair looked about the same in the morning as it did when I went to bed, even with all the hair-to-pillow rubbing that went on last night.

"You look good in my bed, wearing my T-shirt," he said huskily. We stared at each other, and I licked my suddenly dry lips. He responded by taking a deep breath and then another.

Standing, he tapped the tray. "Hope you like mushrooms. I don’t carry a supply of girl’s panties, but I washed yours and put them in the dryer, so I hope that’s okay. I set out another T-shirt. Your jeans will be fine, and at the back door is a barn jacket and a pair of boots. I'll meet you at the barn."

"Where are you going?"

"To take another shower because I actually do want to take you out for a ride with the horses, and if I don't get out of here, you'll be too sore." He glanced ruefully down at his jeans, which had an interesting bulge in the crotch. "Eat before your eggs get cold."

I did, enjoying every bite and swallow. It was no wonder he always had a girlfriend. Who would want to give this kind of thoughtfulness up? I don't know that I'd ever made a guy breakfast. Certainly not Hugh. Washing my underwear? Who did that? How could Ivy have ever thought that Finn was only out for himself?

After I ate and dressed and did the finger toothbrush thing again, I carried the tray down to the kitchen. The dirty pans were stacked in the sink, and after I'd placed my plate, silverware, and glass in the dishwasher, I quickly scrubbed the pans clean and then laid them on a dishtowel I'd found in a drawer next to the sink. It was the least I could do.

The barn coat and big rubber rain boots were resting at the back door, in a mudroom off the kitchen. I blushed a little when I remembered how Finn and I had carried on.

The boots must belong to Mrs. O’Malley. I wondered where she was. The house had an empty quality to it. Maybe she was staying with family. After Mom and Dad died, Ivy hadn't wanted to be in our family home. She said it was too painful. I was the opposite. I wanted to live in that house forever, where I could remember every little interaction. Like the time Ivy and I had a flour fight making sugar cookies. There was the light blue stain on the carpet where Mom and Ivy had spilled paint when they were redoing her room. In the den, the leather chair that my dad always sat in had rubbed a black mark on the wall. And in the kitchen the front burner had scorch marks from all the times my mom would forget she had left it on. When I walked by the stove after they were gone, I swore I could still hear my dad sigh when he switched the stove off.

I was resentful that I'd had to sell it, whereas Ivy was almost relieved. So it could be his mom was like Ivy—wanting to stay away from the home that held so many memories.

The stables were about one hundred feet from the back door. There was a flagstone path leading from the mudroom to the barn, as Finn called it. To me barns were dirty, smelly things, although I'd not been in many, so my assumptions were likely inaccurate. But Finn's stables were nicer than my apartment. The floor was concrete, and the stalls made of cedar. The primary smell was hay.

From my one previous visit, I remembered each horse’s stall had a special mat and several inches of straw to make them comfortable.