Page 68 of Hard to Love

He looks peaceful in his sleep. The intensity with which he seems to do everything in life is softened right now by the light of the moon. His chest rises and falls evenly, and I can’t help but remember my dream. The peace and safety I felt snuggled up against him.

Just. Sex.

Then why as I stare at him do I feel like I . . . nothing. Never mind. The man helped me when I was in need of an escape. He helped provide it. Of course, that makes this bond between us more than just the sex, but . . . hell, we’re good together.

I move to the wall of windows with the intention of looking out of it, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes off Finn as I relive earlier.

A cat-ate-the-canary grin slides onto my lips.

There was power in the sex for me.

A sense of sexuality I don’t think I’ve ever felt, and a confidence I don’t think I’ve ever had before. Something about Finn made me comfortable enough to have it. To own it. His reactions, God, his reactions will live in my memory, because they were so goddamn sexy and arousing and powerful. To feel his legs trembling as I took him deep. To watch his heavy-lidded eyes darken as I talked dirty to him. To watch him come undone as I rocked back and forth over him. To hear my name on his lips and know that I did that to him.

I always thought Vivi and Jordan were full of shit when they said there was power in sex.

Now, I know better.

Now, I know what it’s like to own your sexuality and I can’t wait to own it again.

His words rumble through my head.

Important firsts will be noted from now on.

From now on . . .

I give in to the want and move toward him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. A type of thank-you for whatever therapy of his this is.

Because he is helping me. In some way. Somehow.

He is definitely a balm to the damaged parts of me. And he’s proud of me. That’s something my dad used to say to me too. And even that gives me confidence, because Finn’s opinion matters.

I give him one last look before I head toward the hallway and push away the thought hinting in my mind.

The one that says our time is limited . . . so I need to enjoy it while it lasts.

STEVIE

“YOU SOUND BETTER. MORE SETTLED,” Vivi says.

“I am. I think.” My laugh fills the line and hits my own ears but I like how it sounds. Genuine instead of on the edge of hysteria as it had been. “Definitely better.”

“Is it the tennis you’re practicing, the interview you gave, or the man you’re staying with who’s helping foster that?” she asks, curiosity edging her tone.

I think for a beat. “Maybe it’s all three.”

“Honesty.” She sounds surprised. “I’m impressed.”

“Gee. Thanks.” I laugh again, and God, does it feel good.

“No, I just mean, we knew it was hard for you, losing your dad. We knew you weren’t ready to talk about it. Or the future. So, we kind of let you get lost in the outside for a bit to help quiet the noise, if that makes sense. We tried to challenge you with things to push you outside of your box to prevent you from breaking down . . . but maybe we were wrong. Maybe that’s what you needed in order to get to this stage you’re at now.”

I know what she means by that. Now. And I also know that when I was with them, I didn’t feel quite as alone as I had when Dad first passed. They’d come when I’d asked though, and I knew I was . . . am so lucky to have friends who do that.

“Who knew what I needed . . . but thank you for being there for me regardless.”

“Always. You know that. We had your back then, and we have your back now.”

STEVIE