Page 42 of Cabin Fever

When we break, she looks between the two of us. “That’s my whole speech. Questions? Comments?”

Finn clears his throat. “No questions. Comment.”

Dahlia puts out a hand. “Proceed.”

“I was going to say . . . that you should make him suffer a little. But I’ve watched him for the last few months, and—” Finn’s voice breaks, his jaw working. “Pretty sure he’s done enough of that himself. He loves you, Dahl. He just wants to do everything right.”

She grins through new tears. “What, Theo?”

We all laugh.

Dahlia leans down and gives Finn a hug. “Thank you. For being willing to narc on your friend.”

“I’ll narc on anyone. I have no loyalties.”

My heart swells as I watch her smooth her hair and start toward the door. Dahlia points to the T-shirt. “Do you think⁠—?”

“Wear it,” Finn says. “It’ll give him a fit.”

She laughs and heads out the door. And just like that, the dynamics in the Quinn hierarchy have shifted.

I don’t need to take care of Dahlia anymore. She may have needed me for a time, but she’s figured it out. Even if the roses are the wrong color or the room assignment changes, she can handle it. Probably better than I can.

“Ooh, Harp?” She leans back in before shutting the door.

“Yeah?” I sniff.

“I was thinking about what you said. About the slideshow. I think there's one more person we need to talk to before we get off this boat.”

Sister telepathy.

She smiles. “Meet me there after breakfast?”

I nod.

The door clicks. The cabin goes quiet.

And it's just the two of us.

Finn slides out of bed and heads to the bathroom. I find my pants, throw them in my suitcase, and pull on clothes for breakfast. We have appointments with the stylist in an hour and the wedding beach itself is close to the port on Grand Cayman.

It’ll all go smoothly, I tell myself, trying to breathe.

The bathroom door slides, and Finn enters the room. He stops next to me, his hand grazing my elbow. “Harp⁠—”

“You fell asleep last night.” I turn, my hands straight at my sides.

“I—yeah. I think we both did?”

“Before I could tell you something,” I clarify.

His brows pinch, and I have his undivided attention. Watching Dahlia ignited something in me, and it doesn’t feel so scary to say what I need to.

“I've had feelings for you my whole life.” It comes out steady.”Not a crush, Finn. The real thing. I’ve loved you . . . probably my whole life. Even when I didn’t understand what it was. And hearing about you—seeing you—undoes me because I still have no idea what that means to you. So I flip back and forth between hating you and wanting you, and it’s confusing as hell. Sitting here in this room with you . . .”

He wets his lips. “Confusing as hell?”

I run a hand through my hair. “You have no idea.” When I’m brave enough, I lift my eyes to his. “And here's what I need you to understand. When it's just us. When it’s this?” I motion to the room around us. “You feel like the safest place. But then I'd blink and you'd be over the fence with Melanie Fisher, or flirting with some sophomore at school, or you know, vanishing for fifteen years, and I could never figure it out. It hurt. Over and over again. It still hurts. It’s like⁠—”