Only in Your Dreams (The Mountains are Calling #2)

5. Finley

My favorite thing about my mom’s house is that there’s always noise. The soundtrack to my childhood was filled with mom’s singing, Holden and Grey playing video games on the couch, music softly filtering through the walls of my room when I’d forget to turn it off. My life now is so quiet. I still play music in the shop and in my apartment, unable to stand the silence, but there are so few people. I have customers, and Nora will come to hang out while Raj spends the evening solo-parenting their kids, but the rest of the time, everything is so, so quiet. The unbearable kind. There’s no singing in my kitchen, no pattering of little feet on my floors, no bickering or laughter or teasing. It’s just quiet. And it haunts me.

But Mom’s house? Somehow, even when it’s just the two of us here, there’s the kind of noise that fills you up until you’re overflowing. And when everyone is here—Mom and Holden and Wren and June and Grey—I think I’ll never feel lonely again.

That’s how it is now, when I’m the last one to pull into the full driveway and let myself into the packed house. Mariachi music is playing over the speakers, so I know Mom is making tacos, and I can hear June’s high-pitched giggle the second I open the door. Everything inside me lightens, like fog lifting in the sunshine after heavy rain.

The bathroom door opens next to me, and Grey steps out, his clean linen scent filling the hallway. His eyes flare brighter when he sees me, his mouth quirking up in a grin. “Hello, love of my life.”

I roll my eyes, shove his very firm chest. “Absolutely no one is going to believe you if you act like that.”

“How should I act?” he asks with a lift of his brow. Even that small motion makes the muscles of his face constrict, makes the lone dimple on his left cheek twitch.

I stare up at him, assessing. “You’re normally more…” I trail off, gesturing with my hands, trying to find the words. “With women.”

“More…?” he parrots, mirroring my movements.

“Suave,” I say, choosing the only word I can think of to describe the way I always see him interact with women. He’s charming in all the ways he never is with me, like he’s trying with them but doesn’t feel the need to when he’s around my family.

This makes his smile hitch higher, and just the sight of it makes me start to see what everyone else does. He really can be magnetic when he tries.

“Suave, huh?”

My eyes flick to the ceiling again. “You really are unable to politely take a compliment.”

He bends a little closer, into my space, and suddenly, the air feels thinner, like standing on top of a mountain. “I just don’t get many compliments from you , Fin. But keep ’em coming if you want me to be more suave with you.”

I can almost understand it now, the way all these women fall under his spell, the way they drop their guard for him without a second thought. If he weren’t Grey , I could see myself doing the same. He’s so big, broad and towering over me in a way that makes me feel small, which I rarely do. The clean smell of him is almost intoxicating, and I’m not sure why when I know it’s just laundry detergent and cheap bar soap and him. His pale blue eyes look almost pearlescent in the dim light of the foyer. Having his attention focused squarely on me is heady, like the moment you dive into water, and it’s everywhere all at once.

The moment is broken when a head of blond curls appears at the end of the hall, and I hear my niece shout, “Aunt Finley!”

I turn my attention to her and take a full breath of the apple cinnamon smell of Mom’s house the minute Grey backs up, taking the clean laundry scent with him. “Hey, June Bug.”

She barrels into my legs, her arms wrapping around my waist, acting as if she didn’t just see me yesterday. Her endless enthusiasm for me has never worn off. I could crumble with the gratefulness of it. If I had her with me, I think I could have stayed single as long as Holden did too. She has a way of making you feel like you don’t need anyone else. It’s my favorite thing about her. I hope she never, ever thinks she’s not enough.

I squeeze my arms around her bony shoulders, marveling at how tall she is. I swear just yesterday she was two, chubby cheeks and wobbly legs and more confidence than I can muster on my best day, and now she’s eight . Closer to a teenager than a toddler. It makes a knot form in my throat, and I fight to shove it down.

“How was your day, sweet girl?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her mess of curls. Ever since Wren took over June’s hair routine, it’s been much more tame. It’s less tangled and filled with ringlets, but it’s still thick and heavy and wild. I don’t think she will ever grow out of that, no matter how much curl cream Wren puts on her head.

She pulls back, bright blue eyes meeting mine. “Wren is having a baby!”

My gaze snaps up to meet Grey’s, and from the surprise written on his features, this is news to him too. Wren appears at the end of the hallway, a patient, happy smile on her face. Holden is right behind her, his hand on her waist.

“Well, I guess you heard the news,” Wren says, laughter tingeing her voice.

June swivels to face her, eyes comically wide. “Oh no. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

The grin on Wren’s face widens. “You absolutely should have. You’re going to be a big sister. That’s, like, the biggest news ever.”

Pure delight lights up June’s face, and she turns back to me. “I’m going to be a big sister.” She says this with the kind of childlike wonder that all of us would give up every privilege in adulthood to be able to muster again.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I look between her, Wren, and my brother. Holden’s gaze is firmly planted on Wren, and I’ve never seen him look quite this happy. The first time I saw him hold June, maybe, or his wedding to Wren. But I’m not sure even those times compare to the joy on his face now. It’s almost painful to look at. I want to crush him in a hug. Tell him how proud I am of him for all the small and big decisions he’s made. All the bravery it took to get right here. He deserves every bit of it.

Mom appears behind them, silver lining her eyes. “Isn’t this the best news?”

I nod, the knot in my throat too thick to speak.

Wren claps her hands together. “Let’s celebrate.”

If I thought Wren and Holden’s announcement would distract from the news that Grey and I are in a fake relationship, I was dead wrong. We spend the first two and a half minutes of dinner discussing the pregnancy—Wren is six weeks, due in the spring, and feeling pretty good except for being tired—before Mom turns her laser focus on me.

“You’ll never guess what I heard today.”

I dip a chip in salsa, giving her nothing, and wait.

She looks between Grey and me, where we’re sitting across from each other at our usual spots at the table. “Grey, your aunt called me to tell me that you and Finley are dating.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re obviously not actually dating.”

Grey’s knee bumps mine beneath the table as he leans back in his seat, propping his hands behind his head in an effortlessly relaxed pose. “Yeah, Jodi. That would be ridiculous.”

I spear him with my gaze, shoving my knee harder into his. “Don’t know you? Grey finds me annoying.”

Everyone at the table, with the exception of June, groans, and I have to suppress a grin. Grey sits up, taking the heat of his knee with him, but the toe of his sneaker nudges my sandal. “This again, really?”

“Yes, I haven’t forgiven you.”

“It was fifteen years ago,” he yells.

I fight my smile harder. Sighing, I prop my chin on my hand. “Feels like yesterday.”

The truth is, I’ve mostly gotten over it. It was fifteen years ago, after all. But I was sixteen and crushing on my older brother’s hot best friend when I overheard him telling Holden that I was annoying. I was crushed. I’d reacted exactly in the way an annoying sixteen-year-old would have, by calling them both out on it. And I’ve basically never let it go, but not because it still upsets me. Mostly because it upsets Grey , and that’s too fun to pass up.

Maybe there’s a little part of me that never fully healed from it, although I’ll go to my grave with that secret. I’m not still hung up on him or anything, but shortly after that incident was when he started his serial dating. It was the first time I’d ever felt like I wasn’t enough, even if I couldn’t name it as that at the time. I liked Grey, and he was willing to date anyone but me. So yes, I’m over it, but the scar is still there, and I’m just petty enough to keep reminding him of it.

Before he can respond, Mom changes the subject, eager to cut this off before we really get going. “So how did this rumor come about, then?”

Her question brings me back to reality, like being doused by a bucket of frigid water. “Gus is marrying Eloise.”

Mom’s hazel eyes soften, a look of concern passing over her features.

I try my best to look unaffected, lift my shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “It’s fine,” I say, pushing around the spilled contents of my taco on my plate with a fork. “Anyway, he came into the shop to tell me and basically said he hoped I didn’t get emotional like I did when he broke up with me, so—”

“He said what?” Grey asks. I’m startled by the grit in his tone, the flat look on his face. His jaw is pulsing from how tight he’s holding it shut. When I look beside him at Holden, he’s wearing a similar expression, but much less…just much less . Everything about my brother looks less intense than whatever is going on with Grey. I don’t know what to make of it, because this is so unlike him. He’s usually all relaxed lines and easygoing confidence. He’s rarely whatever this is.

“He made some dig about me being emotional during the breakup,” I say, waving it off like it isn’t a big deal. It is, but whatever energy is buzzing off him right now feels electric, pulsing with something unreadable and tangible.

His jaw ticks. It’s so firm it looks like it might snap. Instead of responding, he makes a noise in the back of his throat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes connecting with Holden’s.

I roll my eyes at them. “I know you guys never liked him.”

Wren cuts in before they can reply. “No, it wasn’t that—”

“He’s an ass,” Grey says, and my gaze cuts to his. His expression is still steely, but something about the way he’s not holding back makes a laugh bubble out of me.

The sound of it makes him soften, and everything feels back to normal.

“Yeah,” I say through laughter. “He kind of is.”

“Uncle Grey,” June pipes up from beside Wren. He meets her gaze, a smile hitching up the corner of his mouth, no longer tense and bristling. June holds out her little hand across the table. “You owe me a dollar for the swear jar.”

Grey’s eyes snag on mine, the dimple in his left cheek making an appearance as he pulls out his wallet and hands her a dollar.

After Saturday night dinners at Mom’s, June stays over, and traditionally, Wren, Holden, Grey, and I find something to do for the night. Usually, we end up at Matty’s Bar in town. It’s dark, the menus are always sticky. The music is too loud, and there’s never enough seating. In short, it’s my favorite place in town.

Tonight, the place is packed. Live music pours out of the open windows—an eighties cover band from the sound of it—drawing in locals and tourists alike from the swampy, blistering summer night. With all the bodies, it’s not any cooler inside, but at least there are cold drinks and free bowls of peanuts and enough people to never run out of conversation.

Holden groans as we make our way through the packed bar. I have to hold back a smile, because I know what’s coming. “Can’t we just go home?”

Wren looks up at him from where he’s got his hands on her shoulders, leading her through the maze of people to the bar. “C’mon, grandpa. Let’s stay for a while.”

I don’t even have to watch to know he’s caved. He’s so gone for her that he is unable to tell her no. It makes my heart pinch a little every time. I want to know what it feels like to be loved like that by someone. To know that a simple request from me is enough to change his mind. With Gus, it was never like that. I’ve just started to realize all the ways in which I’d settled with him, all the ways we weren’t right for each other.

All the ways I wasn’t enough for him.

“You see a table anywhere?” Grey asks directly into my ear, his broad chest colliding with my back as I come to a sudden stop. Wren and Holden pause when someone walks in front of them. His palms catch on my waist, steadying me, and a shiver runs through me at the contact, the feeling of his large, calloused hands connecting with bare skin.

He drops his hands before I have a chance to dissect my reaction to them. “Fin?”

I glance over my shoulder at him. The blue of his eyes looks even more striking in the dim lighting of the bar. There’s a tiny scar above his eyebrow that, somehow, I’ve never noticed before. “What?”

He leans closer, placing his lips right at the shell of my ear to be heard over the music. “I said do you see an empty table anywhere?”

His warm breath on my neck feels like honey dripping down the column of it until it pools in the space below my belly button. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts and whatever this reaction to him is. Then I look around the crowded bar. Right in the middle of the room, I spot one free table.

“I found one,” I yell to him. “I’ll go save it. Order me a margarita, please.” I need some tequila to snap me out of whatever that was.

He nods, moving me to the left with a hand on my hip before following the path Wren and Holden are forging to the right, where the bar is.

I can still feel his phantom fingers on my skin as I make my way to the table.

What is wrong with me?

It’s been fifteen years since I’ve harbored any kind of romantic feelings toward Grey, and although what I was feeling a minute ago wasn’t exactly romantic, it was…electric. It was a pulse of want that I don’t even want to examine.

Seven months is too long to go without being touched or held, and it isn’t helping that Grey was technically the last one to do it. The night of Wren and Holden’s wedding is foggy, but I do remember the feeling of his cool hands on my neck as he held my hair back. The beat of his heart beneath my cheek. The feeling of rightness at being held in his arms. I remember something else too now, something that has been lost to the tequila haze that night. He said something, right as I was drifting off to sleep, about wanting someone in Fontana Ridge. But that can’t be right. Not when he’s dated almost every single woman in town within a ten-year age range.

No, I must have heard him wrong.

I finally reach the table, where I find that there are only two chairs. Spinning around on my heel, I search for available chairs, but instead, my eyes snag on Gus. He’s playing darts with Eloise on the other side of the bar. They’re laughing, looking like something out of a rom-com movie montage, the ones where the couple is falling in love over lattes and reaching for the same book in the bookstore. Where they’re making dinner together in a much-too-large-for-their-budget NYC apartment.

It feels like a knife between my ribs, but not for the reason I would have expected. It’s not seeing them together that hurts. Or maybe it is. But it’s seeing them together . Seeing how they interact, how effortless it looks when everything between us felt like work. Fun work, work I enjoyed, but it wasn’t the kind of ease I see between them.

Not enough.

Grey sidles up next to me, drinks in hand, Wren and Holden on his heels. Wren’s eyes settle on the table. “Oh no, there are only two chairs. I guess I’ll have to sit on your lap.” She says this with dramatic regret, flashing Holden a wide smile.

When I peer up at Grey to laugh at her antics, he’s already watching me. It makes that weird feeling in my stomach start up again. I take the drink he’s extending in my direction and nod toward an empty seat at the bar. “I’ll just go sit over there.”

His eyes flick up, and I know the moment he notices Gus and Eloise, because that muscle flickers in his jaw again. When his gaze lands back on mine, there’s something hard in it—almost predatory. So unlike the easygoing man I’ve known for the last twenty years, and it makes my heart pound faster. But then the look dissolves, disappearing into that charming facade I’ve seen him use on so many women.

Before I can head to the bar, he’s sitting in the chair beside me, pulling me down onto his lap. His hand is heavy on my stomach, tugging me back into his chest. I feel his lips on the shell of my ear, hear the gravel in his voice as he says, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. We’ve got a show to put on.”