“Jesus. They didn’t warn you?” Finn scowls, which somehow causes his biceps to bunch. It’s a good look for him.

“We are talking about people who named their daughter Chester because they thought it was a good meet cute story.” I shrug, hugging my chest tight. “My parents are loving, generous, and flighty as fuck. I was the one who remembered to take out the trash, buy groceries, and do the laundry. They taught me to dance the waltz and fingerpaint on walls.”

Finn’s blue gaze rests on me, and I shift my weight onto my other foot. “They aren’t horrible,” I ramble on, aware that my voice is far too shaky. “But reliable, they ain’t.”

When he speaks, it’s in a gentle, even tone. “Are you going to get in this bed, Chess?”

I stand a bit straighter and huff out a breath. “That’s all you have to say?”

His lips part as if he’ll speak but then he closes his mouth before opening it again. “In the spirit of friendship, I feel I should point out that your nightshirt is transparent when backlight by the bathroom light.”

I jump out of the bathroom doorway, flicking off the light as I go. With a glare, I hustle my ass into the bed, sliding under the cool covers as Finn laughs low in his belly.

“Asshole.” I pull the comforter up to my chest. “You could have told me sooner.”

“The struggle was real,” he admits, turning to face me. His impish smile fades. “How else was I going to get you in bed?”

With a sigh, I snuggle in, trying to get comfortable amidst the pillows. Finn turns off the bedside lamp and then settles down as well. We’re so close, shoulder to shoulder, his knees bumping mine, my cold toes wiggling over his, there is no escape.

I should be panicked but it feels nice. Safe. At least in this moment.

Finn’s voice is a murmur in the near darkness. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Chess. It can’t have been easy. I’ve always wondered…”

“What?” I whisper thickly.

Finn rests his head on his hand. “You’re so strong.”

“Hardly.”

“You weren’t intimidated at all by us when we showed up at your place, hollering and acting like a bunch of rowdy boys.”

“You’re a bunch of overgrown puppies.”

His teeth flash in a quick smile. “True. But I think you’re used to dealing with shit. Having a name like Chester must have been a nightmare in grade school.”

I tuck a pillow under my cheek and stare up at him. “Kids learn fast. Word gets out that taunting me will earn a punch on the lip, and they’re not so quick to tease.”

“But they still did it.” He sounds so protective, it hurts my heart and makes my skin twitchy.

We’re both fully aware that Finn calls me Chester. But he when he says it, somehow my name becomes simply me, something that I don’t need to hide from or cringe over. After a lifetime of feeling as though an essential part of me is nothing more than a sad joke, it is a gift I never knew I needed.

My fingertips sink into the down pillow as I try to get a hold of my emotions. “We’ve all had shit to deal with in childhood. Frankly, I think most of us deserve a freaking medal for surviving it.” I lift my head slightly and narrow my gaze. “Or did you coast through wound free?”

Finn worries his bottom lip with the edge of his teeth. “My ears grew bigger before my head could catch up. And I had acne.”

“Get out of town. Pretty Boy Mannus?”

“Back then they called me Pimple Boy Mannus.” He husks out a laugh. “At least when I wasn’t throwing TDs.”

“I bet the girls liked you anyway.”

We’re speaking in hushed tones now, and the words have a weight between us.

“I was the quarterback. Of course they liked me.”

“That’s not the only reason why.”

“What’s the other reason?” Somehow, he’s gotten closer. I never saw him move, but we’re almost nose to nose now, his forearm pressed against mine where they rest on the mattress.

I smile, the barest curve of my lips. “Like I said before, you’re one of the good guys, Finn. People can’t help but like you.”

His eyes search mine. In the dim, they glint like dark skies. “I want to hold you.”

My breath hitches, catching in my throat.

Finn presses on, his voice a rumble against my skin. “Just that, Chess. Let me hold you while we sleep.”

I’m not aware of making a conscious decision, but in the next breath, my cheek is pressed against the firm swell of his chest, and my body is tucked securely along his lean length. His arm wraps around my waist and he clasps my nape.

He’s so blissfully warm that I close my eyes on a quiet sigh.

“Thank you,” he whispers into my hair.

It shouldn’t be so easy to melt into his hold and fall asleep.

But it is.

Chapter Thirteen

Chess

 

* * *

 

Finn’s gone when I wake. Not surprising since he’s an early riser. After a shower, I head out in search of coffee.

Sean, who I still want to call Captain Mannus or sir, is in the kitchen taking what looks like turnovers from the oven.

“Meat pies,” he tells me, as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Try one.”

He puts a golden pie on a plate and hands me silverware and a napkin before setting the turnover on the kitchen island. I settle on a metal stool and cut myself a bite.

“Delicious,” I say around the hot, buttery pastry filled with savory meat and vegetables.

“There will be more where that came from this afternoon.” With elegant efficiency, he moves around the kitchen, putting turnovers on cooling racks, setting another tray of them into the oven.

Having never spent time around military men, I wasn’t certain what to expect from Finn’s dad. I thought perhaps he’d be hard, a stern man who kept to himself or grunted behind the newspaper he was reading.

It certainly wasn’t this man who exudes a quiet calm that makes you want to please him, who wears a “Good Lookin’ is Cookin’” apron while preparing a holiday meal for his family.

“Finn got you that apron, didn’t he?” I say.

The lines at the corners of Sean’s eyes deepen. “Yes, ma’am, he did.” He glances up from his work. “You know my son well.”