Page 74 of True Colors

Finn fills the doorway.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, firefighter-solid, wearing a T-shirt that reads Engine 9, and an expression that’s neutral but…alert?

“Luther.”

“Finn.” I hold out my hand. He looks at it for half a second before taking it.

His grip is firm, not threatening but definitely measuring.

He steps aside and lets me into their home.

“She’s almost ready,” he informs me gruffly.

I look around—and love that I can see another part of her.

The living room is cozy, and it feels intentional. A couch layered with soft throws; pillows arranged for comfort rather than style. Books line the shelves in uneven stacks—paperbacks with cracked spines, academic texts, not decorative.

There’s a desk in the corner; the surface is cleared except for a notebook and a pen.

Order without coldness. Comfort without clutter.

This is a place designed for safety by someone who once had none and never wants to lose it again.

A sound makes me turn, and I see her.

A duffel slung over her shoulder, scarf in place. When she sees me, her face lights up. She looks so beautiful that it’s a jolt, and I wish I had something to hold onto.

“H-hi,” she says softly.

“Hi,” I reply, unable to stop smiling.

Finn watches us for a long moment, then clears his throat. “So…Napa?”

Anouk slips her hand into mine. “H-he’s j-just…protective.”

“I get it.” I brush my lips against her cheek. “I would be, too.”

Finn growls softly. “You driving?”

“Yes.”

“You drinking?”

“Finn!” Anouk protests.

“Not until we’re there. And not if she doesn’t want to.”

Good answer. I can see him clock it.

He nods once. “She doesn’t always say what she needs.”

Anouk glares at Finn. “I am right here!”

“I know.” I tug her closer to me. “I’m learning to listen better.”

That earns me another long look. It’s not hostile.

“Okay,” Finn says. “Bring her back in one piece.”