Chapter TWENTY
MITCH PULLEDup outside Finn’s house, unexpectedly at a loss as to his next steps. The four days he’d spent staying in the house with Finn were fresh in his mind, although the day spent at Rocky’s beck and call had put a damper on Mitch’s happy state of mind.
Fuck, it’s all an illusion, anyway!What was he thinking? That he and Finn would play happy houses?
He turned hishead at the touch of Finn’s hand on his thigh. Finn’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and Mitch’s heart took a dip. He looked so sweet and innocent, once more radiating good health and positive energy. Rocky was looking tired and washed-out recently. Plus Finn didn’t display any of the unease and built-up anger his brother conveyed; Rocky always seemed like he was only a stone’s throw from having ameltdown. The two Cummings men may have been as different as chalk and cheese, but Mitch forced himself to remember, for the umpteenth time, that FinnwasRocky’s brother, and that meant he was involved in the club so he too was under investigation.
“Did you want to come in?” Finn asked. “I could make us dinner.”
Mitch needed to remember Finn was the bad guy and ignore the flush of pleasurethat filled his chest at the invitation. He needed to politely decline and head home. Ross would be waiting for him to check in, and would want an update, would want to hear the latest info Mitch had gotten from Finn about the shipment in two weeks. Instead Mitch turned off the ignition. “Sure. I’d love to.”
The fridge still held groceries Mitch and Finn had purchased when Finn was well enoughto venture out the previous day after their walk, plus the few things left over from Mitch’s original shopping trip. Mitch leaned on the bench as Finn pulled out ingredients.
“There’s the basics here to rustle up a veggie pasta. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure.”
It was relaxed and comfortable to watch Finn prepare the simple meal. He moved with quiet efficiency as he diced onion, chopped garlicand tomatoes, and sliced zucchini. Soon the small kitchen was redolent with the scent of the pasta sauce. The back door was open, a gentle breeze cooling the room after the heat of the day.
“Do you want to get us a drink while I finish up here? Then maybe you can set the table outside.” Finn smiled as he looked up while stirring the pan. He placed the spoon on the bench. “I’ll be back in a second.”
By the time Mitch retrieved water from the fridge, Finn had returned with a couple of tumblers and two large bowls he set down next to the sink. “Here, give these a quick rinse, will you?”
Finn started stirring the sauce again, and Mitch took care of the dinnerware. It felt so right, so perfect to be working side by side getting ready to share an evening meal. Mitch pushed everything else tothe side and decided to enjoy Finn’s company.
They finished off the pasta primavera with the remains of a loaf of bread, as the dusk settled over the back garden. The cicadas set up a loud chorus, and it was only when the mosquitoes became too much of a nuisance that they finally made their way inside.
Mitch found himself wishing they’d used more pots and dishes as they finished the washingup in record time. He took his time drying his hands and hung up the tea towel on the handle of the oven door. He didn’t want to leave the small house, but there was nothing else left to do.
He slowly turned around, ready to say goodbye, when Finn came back into the kitchen with a couple of mugs.
“Coffee?” Finn asked, holding them up.
The relief was immediate, and Mitch couldn’t hold back thesmile. “That’d be great.”
They sat side by side on the old couch, drinking coffee from the white china mugs. Mitch held his up and gestured with it to Finn. “I’m honored you’ve pulled out the good stuff for me tonight.”
Finn chuckled. “Nothing but the best for you,” he quipped, then flushed slightly.
“I appreciate it,” Mitch said, warming at the idea Finn was flirting with him, even if he didlook slightly embarrassed. It had been a long time since that had happened—flirting. He sipped the hot drink and relaxed back into the couch cushions. He studied the mug in his hands. “It’s taken you a while to unpack.”
“Yeah,” Finn mumbled.
“I was surprised that you’d been here for a few weeks, but you were still using the few bits and pieces that were obviously in the house when you arrived.I would have thought you’d want to get settled in with your own stuff, not use the chipped, mismatched crockery. Make this place your home.”
There was silence for a moment as Finn studied his coffee intently. When he looked back at Mitch, his eyes were full of sadness. “This place was my home when I was young. It was my home when Mum and Dad, and Carl, were here. But it’s not my home anymore.”
“But you chose to come back here?”
Finn laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I don’t want to live here, Mitch. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be anywhere near this place.”
“Where would you rather be?”
“I haven’t really allowed myself to think much beyond cutting the ties, but that’s probably just wishful thinking too. Maybe up the coast. The beach.”
Mitch had learned Finn didn’t like Rockymuch, but he wanted to distance himself from the club too? From the one thing that was consistent in his life? His chest tightened at the idea that Finn, who was only twenty-three, didn’t have something to look forward to in life.
“It doesn’t hurt to have dreams,” Mitch said softly.
