He felt the tears against his cheeks, Hank’s voice heavy and gruff as he replied, “We are, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” Finn whispered as he licked Hank’s salty tears from his cheeks, swallowing them down and making room inside himself for the remnants of Hank’s sadness. Just like Hank always made room for all Finn’s insecurities and doubts. Once Hank’s tears stilled, he kissed Finn’s lips reverently. Then Finn felt his smile against his lips.
“What are we gonna do with all this time now?” Hank rasped.
“Love each other,” Finn whispered. “Just love each other.”
“I can do that,” Hank nodded solemnly. “Always.”
Epilogue
Hank
Two years later
What used to be one of the worst days of his life had become just another day in an endless succession of moments with Finn, loneliness replaced by a deep-seated feeling of contentment. Hank had used to measure out his life in things he’d done with Eugene and without Eugene. It had been an odd equation because everything that was good and bright belonged on the other side with Eugene, and he’d always assumed that it could never be different. That there had been an expiration date on the bright moments and that all he’d been left with was a dull, faded replica of the life he’d once had.
As it turned out, the light could return in the shape and form of a thirty-eight-year-old man with muddy-brown eyes, straw-blond hair, and a moderate case of abandonment issues. He guessed some things came in packages and if he wanted Finn, he would have to take all of him. That was okay, too. It was a rather nice package, after all, with the good by far outweighing the not-so-good. Obviously, Hank didn’t like that Finn still had moments where he doubted Hank and his love for him—obviously, he would rather be without that. Mostly for Finn’s sake, though. Because he just wanted Finn to be happy and for that recurring frown between his brows to become less frequent. It had become less frequent. Some things were just harder to get over than others, he guessed, and for Finn, it kind of stuck with him that he’d been abandoned as a kid. Hank could see how that could stick.
‘I love you, Hank,’ Finn had whispered against his heart the first night they’d spent together after coming home.‘Including the parts of you that you try to hide from me. What I love the most, though, is the way you consciously see me and still care for me. I’ll consider if that means that I can like myself a little more, too.’ Finn often said strange things like this that made Hank’s head spin and forced him to think about himself and how he now suddenly mattered to someone else again. And not in the way he mattered to Colton, because he knew he was important to his nephew, too. ‘I love how you were brave for me, Hank, when I needed you to be.’
‘I never thought I could be brave like that, to be honest,’ he’d admitted, trailing his broad fingers through Finn’s silky strands that were still damp from their shower. ‘But, as it turns out, I can. I can be when it matters.’
‘Because I matter?’ Finn had gripped his shoulders, needily climbing on top of him.
‘More than anythin’. Jesus, kid, there ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.’ And it was the honest-to-God truth. Now that he had admitted to himself and to Finn that they belonged together, Finn’s happiness had become his sole focus.
If there was one thing that Hank hated, it was waking up to an empty bed. Finn had been on a night shift, and those were the worst. If it weren’t for Maggie camping out at his feet, snoring softly, he would probably be pacing trails into the floorboards on those nights. Considering he’d slept alone for nearly seven years before Finn had come into his life, he was really doing a piss-poor job at it now.‘It’s only two weekends a month, babe. We rotate. We all gotta do it. The rest of the time, I’m all yours.’ Right. Well, as long as Finn was happy—which he was. On the days and nights that he wasn’t in Whitney, he was back home where he belonged, working next to Henry in the clinic, attending to their human patients.
Finn was always a bit hyper when he came back from a night shift, especially if he’d been working with Hannah. Hannah was a twenty-something nurse who’d started at the same time as Finn, and they’d immediately hit it off. Night shifts with Hannah meant sugar rush and watching rodeo if their shift was quiet, and from the sounds that were coming from the kitchen right now, it sounded like Finn had been on a shift with Hannah. Loud clangs and clatter, the electric whisker running, andMaggie Mayblasting from those fancy Sonos loudspeakers that Finn had installed all over the cabin, costing him a minor fortune.
He was quite the sight, his Finn, as he stood there in the early morning light, pinks and oranges covering his pale skin like watercolors on a naked canvas. His hair was longer now, gathered in a low ponytail, a few loose strands dipping into his forehead. It suited him with the longer hair and Hank liked it, much easier for Hank to get a grip on when he wanted to fuck Finn aggressively. Just the way they both preferred it.
The dips and curves of his muscular upper body, the odd sprinkling of freckles across the shoulders, always made Hank want him, crave him. This morning, he was wearing flannel pajama pants with little raccoons on them—they’d been a gift from Hank their second Christmas together, and they were Finn’s favorite. Hips rocking to Rod’s raspy voice, he was flipping pancakes left and right, Maggie’s brown doe eyes fixed on him. Finn was the center of her universe, and Hank didn’t blame her. He was the center of Hank’s, too.
Maggie was the one to notice him first, resulting in a loudwoof,and once she started spinning around with a pair of Finn’s socks in her mouth, Finn noticed him, too.
“Mornin’ babe. How did you sleep? I didn’t wanna wake you, but there’s coffee. Maggie insisted I make pancakes and you know how persuasive our girl can get. What time are they coming?” Finn shifted on his feet, cheeks flushed pink with a combination of tiredness and adrenaline.
“Breathe, kid,” Hank murmured against Finn’s neck, placing his hands on his narrow hips, stilling his hyper movements. “How many did she have?” He nodded at the pup.
“Not that many,” Finn leaned into him. “Just a few bites here and there.” He nipped playfully at Hank’s shoulder.
“Finn…”
“Just two. One was an accident, though, since I didn’t flip it right and it landed on the floor.” He shrugged, biting his bottom lip, the moths fluttering restlessly.
“Jesus. You can’t feed her that many pancakes,” Hank groaned, tipping his head back. Brushing at his brows, he mumbled, “I need coffee.”
“Why not? All little girls love pancakes,” Finn pouted, the freckles above his upper lip glimmering in the early morning sunlight.
“She’s just a baby. It ain’t good for her.” Grabbing the coffee pot, Hank reached for two coffee mugs from the cupboard and poured them both a cup.
“She’s not a baby. Besides, I made Cara pancakes all the time when she was little.” Whisking furiously in the remaining batter with one hand, he dropped another generous lump of butter on the sizzling skillet.
“Well, it ain’t good for her. You’ll end up spoilin’ her rotten like you do Fenn.” Hank shook his head, unable to hide the fondness in his voice.
Finn turned in his arms, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Clasping his hands around Hank’s neck, he whispered, “Just like you spoil me rotten, Daddy?”Shit.Releasing Hank, Finn quickly poured the remaining batter on the skillet while reaching for the other one, flipping the pancake casually in the air.
