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Finn’s fork hits his plate hard enough to make Taylen jump.
“Wait.”
His eyes lock onto Taylen. Then swing to Bastian.
“Maybe you two can help.”
The whole table’s attention pivots.
Finn’s face is alight, and he’s out of his chair now, moving into the version of himself I know and love. The events coordinator, the problem solver, the man who has a plan.
“The access road from the farm connects directly to Route 7. Taylen, your service road could handle overflow parking. We remove the fence temporarily, set up the market stalls on the flat area by the orchard.” He’s gesticulating now. “The views of Mt. Philo would make it all feel magical. The natural amphitheater effect of the valley would be perfect for the carol singers. And imagine the lighting opportunities with all those apple trees.”
Stone lights up. Nikko already has his phone out. Sylvie is nodding, and Kay is grinning.
Bastian starts pushing back, complaining about media attention. The danger of Hall of Fame fans descending on the farm. Insurance liability. Kids climbing fences. His voice is calm and reasonable, but I’ve known Bastian for twenty-five years, and I hear the panic underneath it.
He glances at me, waiting for backup, but I can’t do that when Finn is breathing for the first time since he arrived, and he’s even eating his dinner.
Bastian looks at Taylen. I could be wrong, but all I see is a challenge from Taylen. As if he’s daring Bastian to disagree.
Everyone seems convinced that moving the Christmas festival to the farm is the best solution for the town.
I keep my face neutral because I know exactly what Bastian is asking for when his eyes land on me again. Twenty-five years of band meetings, contract negotiations, and difficult decisions, and every single time, Bastian looks at me for a temperature check. I’m the one who says this is a bad idea when it’s a bad idea, and this is fine when it’s fine.
I may not be able to claim Finn as mine, but I also won’t do anything that would make his life harder.
“I’ll think about it,” he says finally, even if the words come out clipped.
Griffin’s eyes go bright with the knowledge that Bastian’s answer means it’s a bit more than halfway to a yes.
Sylvie stands with more energy than anyone should have after preparing the feast in front of us. “Why don’t you all retire to the living room? Bastian and I will clean up here before we have dessert.”
Chairs scrape as everyone starts to drift out of the kitchen.
The living room is warm and dim. Someone has already turned on the TV, low. Kay curls into an armchair with her phone. Mik and Tyler are on one end of the couch as close as they can be. Stone is stretched across the loveseat like a cat, one arm over his eyes. Nikko is on the arm of the couch, scrolling through his phone.
I take a seat on the far end of the two-seater, closer to the fire than the others. There’s an armchair pulled up beside it that no one has claimed.
A minute later, Finn drifts in with his tablet already in hand, a stylus tucked behind his ear. His hair is still slightly wild. He doesn’t look up. He just crosses the room and takes the space beside me.
He pulls up something on the tablet and starts making a list.
Not once do his eyes meet mine, but his knee is close enough to mine that if either of us shifted an inch, we’d touch.
I love that in a room full of people, despite the secrets we’re keeping, I’m the one he gravitates to because he knows he doesn’t have to be brave for me.
I let my arm rest along the back of the couch, palm turned inward. Close enough that if he leaned back, my hand would be right there.
He doesn’t lean back, but the slight twitch of his lips tells me he knows what I’m doing and likes it.
Nikko looks up from his phone. “Did you all know there’s a new local band playing at Joe’s tonight? I just saw it on the bar’s social media page. We should go.”
Stone lifts his arm off his eyes. “Now?”
“Yeah. Come on. It’ll be fun. Local band, small venue, cold beer.”
“Nik,” I say. “The last thing a brand-new local band needs is Hall of Fame turning up and stealing their oxygen.”
