Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sammie

T he last couple of weeks Finn and I spend in Alaska are the best.

I still have moments of doubt within myself.

Like, am I really good girlfriend material?

Or am I still too broken?

Then there are my feelings of guilt. They creep in at the strangest moments.

I try to let Finn know when I’m feeling off, and he helps me work through it.

The other day was one of those times.

We were doing laundry together and goofing around. Finn had me laughing at the stupidest things.

During one of my fits of giggling, I suddenly had a flashback of a memory with Amanda, one where we had been sitting on my bed telling jokes. She told me the silliest one that was so dumb it was funny.

I was giggling like crazy that day too.

That’s how grief works. It never really leaves you, so a memory like that can come up out of nowhere and knock you on your ass.

That’s what happened that day, and my giggling all of a sudden turned to crying.

Finn didn’t even question what had happened. He knew it had something to do with a memory of my sister.

He just took me in his arms and held me, soothing me as he rubbed my back and murmured, “It’s okay. Let it out, sweetheart.”

We didn’t discuss it then, he just comforted me.

Later, I told him why I’d lost it.

He understood, of course. Actually, when I tried to apologize for ruining our good time, he was having none of it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. We were at the kitchen table, and he placed his hand over mine. “You never have to say you’re sorry for how you feel, Sammie. Someone wise once told me”—he nodded to me—“that healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. I haven’t forgotten that.”

“It doesn’t,” I agreed softly, looking down at our hands joined on the table.

He cleared his throat, then said, “Can I bring up something, something that could be a sensitive subject?”

“Of course,” I replied.

He blew out a breath, and then continued, “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I think it could help if you went to some therapy sessions.”

I sighed.

He looked concerned that I was mad or upset by his suggestion, but I wasn’t, not at all. I mean, it isn’t like I’ve never thought of that myself.

I told him as much and then said, “Years ago, shortly after it all happened, my parents tried to get me to go to counseling.”

Quietly, he asked, “Did you try it?”

I shook my head. “No, I refused.” And then I explained, “Much like my feelings on how I felt I didn’t deserve to ever be happy, I also believed I was no longer a good enough person to be helped. I now know that was all part of me punishing myself. So that’s why I never went to therapy, even years later. I just didn’t believe I could ever be healed.”

Finn squeezed my hand. “But you feel differently now, right?”

“I do.” I nodded exuberantly so he’d know I truly do think I can he helped and healed, and that I deserve it. I deserve happiness. I went on, “In fact, I’ll call when we get back to Atlanta and see what I can set up.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” he said.

And, man, he looked so happy that it made me want to cry—good tears, though, not bad.

God, I love him so much.

And he’s too good to me.

But not too good for me.

I finally believe that.

See, I am getting better. But I absolutely do plan to go to therapy once we’re home.

In the meantime, I’m having the time of my life up here. Finn keeps me so freaking busy. We do a lot of fun “Alaska” things, one of which is go on a whale watch.

Wow, was that spectacular!

We end up seeing ten different humpback whales breeching the water, one with her baby. An orca even makes an appearance. Not to mention, there are so many eagles flying around and seals out sunning on rocks.

It’s a day I’ll never forget.

We do many other fun things as well. We go to a salmon bake, take a helicopter ride over the glaciers, and, hell, we even go dog sledding.

That sure was wild.

Some of my favorite times, though, are the ones like right now, where Finn and I are just walking through the trails that wind through the forest behind his cabin.

“It’s so quiet around here,” I say as I nudge a small branch off the dirt path we’re on with the toe of my hiking boot.

The path is wide enough at this point that we can walk side by side.

Taking my hand, Finn agrees, “It really is. I think I’ll keep this property forever.”

“I hope you do,” I reply softly. “I’d love to come back up here again with you.”

He squeezes my hand. “Of course we’ll be back, Sammie. We can come here anytime you want.”

I remind him, “Not during hockey season, though. You’ll be too busy.”

“Not necessarily,” he counters. “It’s not out of the question. We do get breaks here and there.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “Like the All-Star break.”

I look over at him and wink, since that time of year this season was technically the beginning of us becoming a couple.

We just didn’t know it yet at the time…or for a while afterward.

Well, I didn’t.

Finn wanted to date me right away.

But it’s good that we waited. Even though we slept together that first night, we took a step back and really got to know each other.

We became true friends, then lovers again.

The best part is, we’re not lovers in name only—we truly do love each other.

Bumping his hip with mine, he says, “Yeah, I sure am glad I stopped in Boots that night.”

I let go of his hand and link my arm with his.

Leaning against him, I murmur, “I’m happy you did too.”

We walk quietly for a few more minutes, until there’s a bunch of rustling up ahead of us in the brush.

That stops us dead in our tracks.

Whatever is in the thick greenery, it sure sounds big.

This is Alaska, after all, and the woods can be dangerous.

My heart starts racing as I whisper my worst fear. “Is it a bear?”

Finn shakes his head once. “I don’t know. But stay behind me.” Swiftly, he steps in front of me, shielding me with his body.

Slowly, from his coat pocket, he takes out the bear spray we always bring along on these walks.

But will it be enough?

My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

What if the bear spray doesn’t work?

Finn already told me we can’t outrun a bear.

We can try to scare it, but that’s not always successful.

And damn, I don’t even want to try.

The rustling continues, growing louder and louder, and as Finn raises his arm with the bear spray in hand, I grab hold of the back of his coat with both of my hands.

I don’t want to die.

And I especially don’t want Finn to die.

I love him, but until this second, confronted with possible death, I didn’t realize just how much.

He is the most important person in my life, and I’d do anything for him, including giving up my own life.

That’s why I know in my heart that if it is a bear and the spray doesn’t work, I’ll be jumping in front of Finn.

I will give up my life so that he can live.