Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Twenty

Finn

“ N o more salmon,” I announce as I walk into the kitchen carrying a big batch of king crab and snow crab legs. “Three nights in a row is enough.” I set the crab on the counter and turn to where Sammie is seated at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. “I know you love the salmon up here, and it is fantastic, I agree. We can have it again, for sure, but it’s time for you to expand your horizons and try some other great Alaskan catches.”

I’m not joking around. I truly think Sammie is becoming addicted to freshly caught salmon. Or maybe it’s just the way I grill it and top it off with a light glaze.

It is pretty tasty that way.

The first night I made it, after a day spent showing her the local sights, she went wild for it and insisted we have it the next night…and the one after.

That’s all fine and good, as I love salmon, too, but she’s missing out on some other great options.

Tonight, we’re going to remedy that.

“All right,” she says, eyeing the crab on the counter warily. “But some of the claws on those things look downright scary.”

I laugh. “That would be the king crab you’re referring to. They are big fuckers. But don’t worry. I assure you they’re all dead.”

“Ha ha.” Sammie rolls her eyes at me. “I know that. But look at how sharp their claws are.”

I tell her, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you crack ’em open. I’ll show you how not to get cut.” I raise a brow. “Do you trust me?”

Her green eyes soften as she says, “Actually, I do, Finn.”

Oh, Sammie, the things you do to me when you say shit like that.

There are moments, like these, when I just want to stop everything and tell her I fucking love her.

And that I want her—in every way possible.

I just may do that someday.

But not now.

The time has to be right.

I feel it’s coming soon, that perfect moment.

I just hope it happens while we’re still here in Alaska.

I keep my promise to Sammie.

The snow crab is no problem, but I teach her how to use the metal crackers in the best possible manner so as not to get stabbed by the spiny shells of the king crab.

She learns quickly and does a great job.

Nodding approvingly, I say, “See, you’re cracking them like a pro, like a true Alaskan.”

“I feel like one,” she shares with a smile. “This is fun.”

Softly, I say, “I’m glad you’re having a good time, Sammie.”

I am.

I want her to have the best time up here.

After we eat and clean up the kitchen, Sammie comes with me outside, where I plan to chop some wood. I have a big stone fireplace in the living room, but we haven’t used it yet. The weather has been mostly sunny and fairly mild the past few days, though the nights have gotten cold. That’s why we’ve kept the furnace on.

But the temperature really plummeted today.

Tonight will be freezing, like literally. We may even get some snow. I figure that hanging out in front of a roaring fire might make for a nice, mellow evening.

A warm one too.

It may even be a little romantic.

We’ll see.

By the woodpile, even though we’re bundled up in parkas and gloves, Sammie starts shivering.

“Yikes,” she says. “It gets cold in Atlanta sometimes, like in January, but this is some next-level freezing.”

I laugh as I grab a thick log and an axe. “It does get down in your bones up here,” I agree. And then I say, “You can go back inside if you want. This won’t take too long.”

“No.” She flips up the hood of her coat, clearly determined to stay. “I’ll acclimate in a few minutes.”

I shrug. “Okay, if you say so. But if you change your mind…”

“I’m fine, Finn,” she insists. “Or I will be soon.”

“All right.”

I keep an eye on her, and she does stop shivering. Still, I try to chop up enough wood for a good fire as quickly as I can. I’m pretty fast, so it doesn’t take too long.

After I grab several pieces of wood to take in with us, I say. “This should be enough to get us started. I’ll come out and get more if we need it.”

“Okay,” Sammie throws over her shoulder as she practically sprints to the door.

Guess she was still cold after all.

Chuckling, I follow her in, close the door, and then begin placing the wood in a metal rack by the fireplace.

Soon it’s piled high.

The original plan was to start the fire in a little while, but when I turn around and notice Sammie still has her coat on, I ask her, “Do you want me to get this thing going now?”

She bounces up and down on her toes. “Oh my God, yes, please.”

I laugh and nod. “You got it.”

Even though the furnace is still on, it doesn’t run constantly. This fire will warm things up quickly, though.

And, sure enough, a few minutes later, after adding several smaller pieces of wood for kindling, along with a few whopper logs, we have a roaring fire going.

Sammie finally chucks her coat, leaving her in faded jeans and an off-white fisherman’s knit sweater.

I’m in jeans as well, but my long-sleeved tee has been enough for me. I’m plenty warm, especially after we plop down onto the plushy rug on the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace.

“Are you warming up now?” I ask Sammie.

Nodding, she holds her hands out toward the fire and replies, “I am. This is so nice, Finn.”

“It is,” I agree.

We’re quiet then, but it’s a comfortable silence.

Even though we’re facing the fire, I keep stealing glances over at Sammie. I can’t help it. It’s just that she looks so beautiful in the light of the flames with her long hair tumbling down her shoulders and her cheeks glowing.

We sit like this for a while, and then we start chatting about the past few days.

At one point, I ask her, “So, you’re having fun up here? You’re glad you came?”

“Oh, yes.” She nods. “I love it in Alaska. It’s so beautiful and just… I don’t know. This place feels like it renews your soul. Does that even make sense?”

“Actually, it does,” I reply.

I know exactly what she means. I haven’t even thought about hockey or our missing the playoffs. I, too, feel renewed, in a lot of ways. Not only am I at peace, but I know once I’m back in Atlanta, I’ll be ready to start fresh, prepping for the new season.

Suddenly, and out of the blue, a big wind kicks up outside, rattling the panes of glass in the windows.

I say, “That must be the snow coming in.”

Sammie sits up straighter, excited. “Do you think it’s here now? The snow, that is?”

I shrug. “It could be.”

Rising up to her knees, she says, “Can we go outside and check? I really, really want to see snow. I don’t count that slushy crap that falls once in a while in Georgia as being the real thing.”

I raise a brow. “You do remember it’s cold out there, right?”

She waves her hand at me and pshaws. “Who cares? I’ll be all right. Besides, if I get too cold, you can help warm me up out there.”

Wait, what?

Did I just hear her correctly?

I don’t know what she means by that.

Maybe she just plans to borrow my coat or something.

You know, layer up.

My mind is everywhere as we don our parkas and boots and head outside, where it is indeed snowing.

And kind of a lot.

“Wow!” Sammie marvels as she spins around in a circle, her face to the sky. “This is amazing.”

Her excitement over the snow is contagious. I take a good look around and feel a new appreciation for the beauty of this night.

“It is something,” I agree.

Skipping over to me, Sammie places her hands on my arms and looks up at me, her green eyes sparkling. And then she says softly, “Thank you for bringing me up here with you, Finn.”

“Of course.” I take a chance and place my hands on either side of her waist. “I’m happy you’re here with me.”

Reaching up, she touches my stubbled cheek. “Are you really?”

I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m fucking rolling with it.

“Yes,” I reply, smiling. “I am.”

Moving her hand from my cheek back down to my arm, she says, “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure. Ask me anything.” Even though it’s through the parka and thick sweater, I squeeze her waist.

She sighs, and there’s a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “If I did something bad back in the past and I told you about it, would you still be my friend?”

“Sammie, I’d be your friend no matter what. In fact”—I hold her gaze—“I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

I see a struggle in her eyes.

She’s fighting something.

But what in the hell could it be?

I can’t imagine anything in her past could really be that bad.

At last, she says, “Before we go back inside, where I want to tell you something, can you do one thing for me?”

God, doesn’t she know what the answer will always be?

“Anything, Sammie. I’ll do anything for you,” I say quietly, as if this moment demands softness.

And then she just about floors me when she says, “Kiss me, Finn.”