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

24. Grey

Finley is different after the dinner with Charlie. I don’t know what it is, but she seems more reserved. A small part of me worries that it has nothing to do with Charlie and has more to do with Gus and Eloise—now that they’re officially married and our pretend relationship could come to an end. But when we saw them in town a few days later, purchasing last-minute things for their move, she seemed happy. She smiled and even asked them how married life was treating them. But then, later that night when I brought up the trip to Maine and told her I was going to buy our tickets if she thought she could close the shop for the long weekend, she clammed up. Said she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to take the time off, so I only bought one ticket, told her I’d get another later if she changed her mind.

But it’s been two weeks, and she hasn’t. And every day I get closer to leaving her, even if only for a long weekend, the ache in my chest gets more severe. The trip is in two days, and I’m spending one of them on a twenty-four-hour shift.

I’ve been locked in the dorms for the last couple of hours, wishing for a call to keep me busy, but none have come in. My head feels like it’s about to explode, so I finally push myself off the hard twin bed and head out into the living area. Jacob is once again in his recliner, flipping channels on the TV. I’m not sure where everyone else is, but I’m glad they’re not here, because I don’t have small talk in me right now.

I sink down into the recliner next to Jacob’s, fruitlessly checking my phone again to see if Finley has texted or called. But it’s blank. I rub at the spot on my chest that feels like it’s been perpetually aching for the last two weeks.

Jacob casts his eyes in my direction, not even bothering to turn fully. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I say, but even to my own ears, it sounds like a lie.

He snorts, turns the volume down on the TV. “Yeah, okay. You’ve been weird for weeks.”

I’m tired of wearing my emotions like a glittering tie-dye cape around my shoulders, so flamboyant that people can’t help but look. Sighing, I say, “Things have been weird with Finley. Again. I thought we were good.”

Things were good. Things were better than good. It felt like every single one of my dreams was coming true right before my eyes. It’s so good that I felt like I had to hold on for dear life so it wouldn’t slip away. But something has changed. Now she’s pulling away, and I don’t know why.

“Did you tell her about Maine?”

“Yes,” I say, but then realize I didn’t really. “Well, technically, Charlie did. But I told her about it later.” I can still feel the sting of embarrassment, the tender spot of vulnerability as I told her that I was staying for her. I’d almost told her I love her.

And she’s been retreating since then, pulling back faster than I can manage to hold her closer.

Jacob lifts a brow. “Is she mad?”

“I don’t think so,” I respond, shaking my head. I know her, and she’s never had a hard time telling me when she’s angry or annoyed with me. But she is keeping something close to her chest, and it’s killing me that she won’t share it with me.

He looks at me like I’m an idiot, but I know I’m right. She would tell me if it was something as simple as being mad at me.

“Did you and Amelia ever…” I trail off, not sure what I’m wanting to ask. But I’m just now realizing that I do want to ask him something. That I’m tired of holding people at arm’s length. Finley was right when she said that I’m friendly with everyone, that I try to make everyone feel at ease, but I’ve barely let anyone close enough to know me . That I’ve hardly tried to really get to know anyone, even the people I spend major chunks of my week with.

“Did we ever what?” Jacob asks, brow arched again.

I clear my throat and my mind. “Did you ever hit a rough patch?”

I don’t know if that’s what’s going on with Finley and me, or if I’m reading into things, letting my insecurities get in the way, but I need to know if this is normal. If we’re going to be okay. If I can get the kind of happily ever after that Holden and Wren, and Jacob and Amelia, and Charlie and Brenda have.

His eyes soften, and he shifts in his recliner to face me more fully. “Of course we had rough patches. We still have rough patches. I told you that the complicated relationships are the only ones worth having, because they’re the only ones that are real. Committing your life to someone means learning to love all the versions of them over time. The Finley you fell in love with years ago isn’t the same person she is now. She’s changed, and you have too. You have to keep learning to love each other through it.”

My brow furrows. “How do you know I’ve loved her for years?”

Jacob rolls his eyes, shifting to face the TV and turning the volume up once more. “Anyone can see that, Grey.”

I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin when I’m finally off my shift. Things ended up picking up shortly after my conversation with Jacob, and we had almost nonstop calls the rest of the night. I should be exhausted. I am exhausted, but I want to see Finley. I want to spend the day with her before I leave her for four days.

Which is how I find myself knocking on her door at eight fifteen, fifteen minutes before she usually heads down to the shop. When the door swings open, Finley looks surprised to see me. The look is followed by a pleased grin that makes my knees buckle. That, though, is swiftly followed by shutters falling down over her eyes. So many emotions in such a short time that it feels like I have vertigo just watching them play out on her face.

“Hey,” I say. It sounds a little desperate, like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long.

She backs up into her apartment, holding open the door for me. She’s got one earring in and only half the buttons on her linen shirt are buttoned. She looks pleasantly disheveled, and it makes something in my chest tighten. Warmth and desire and wanting and something unnamable.

She barely spares me another glance as she dashes into her bedroom and digs around in her closet. I follow the noise, just wanting to see her, even if we don’t talk. Being with her calms something inside me that always feels like it’s buzzing, anxious, fraying.

“Did you just finish your shift?” she finally asks when I come into the bedroom, leaning on her doorframe. She’s got one foot digging into a white sneaker while she searches the depths of her closet for the other one, a clean white sock between her teeth.

“Mm-hmm.” Despite the weirdness between us over the last few weeks, I can’t help but smile as I watch her, heart tugging so painfully in my chest that I think it’s going to break through the skin.

She casts her eyes over her shoulder and pulls the sock from between her teeth. “Just wanted to see me?” There’s a smile on her lips. It’s familiar enough that I want to believe that the tension bubbling between us for weeks has all been in my head. I want to ignore it. I want to not say what I came here to say.

I nod as she finally finds her sneaker and begins to pull it on. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” The words stick in my throat, but I force them out. “I wanted to know if we’re…good.”

Finley stops moving, her shoulders stiff. “Why do you ask that?”

I let out a sigh, knowing my fears are confirmed. I think my chest is caving in on itself. That’s what has to be happening, right? It’s the only reasonable explanation for the pain.

Pushing a hand through my hair, I say, “Fin, please.” It’s all I can manage, and I hate how desperate it comes out, how wrecked I must sound. I’m showing all my hands, serving my heart to her on a platter for her to do with it what she wants.

Her eyes fall to the ground, avoiding mine. “Grey.” It’s all she says, like she can’t manage more. After a long, painful moment, she says, “I think you should go to Maine.”

I stare at her, confused, uncomprehending. “I’m going to Maine. Tomorrow.”

I’m horrified as I watch tears form in her eyes, inching one by one down her cheeks. “No, I think you should move there.”

“What?” Later, I might wish I’d been more eloquent, that I had denied her idea from the start. But right now, I’m too lost to say anything of worth.

She sinks against her bed, hands gripping the pale purple quilt like it’s the only thing keeping her from sliding to the ground. “When Charlie was here, I saw how happy you were. He told me what a good opportunity it is. And then when I asked you why you weren’t going, you said…” She trails off, the words hanging in the air. I told her I was staying for her. I almost told her it was because I love her, that I can’t imagine leaving.

And suddenly, I can’t hold it in anymore. I need to say it like I need my next breath. I need her to hear it, to know why I can’t leave, no matter what could be waiting for me in Maine. It couldn’t possibly be better than this. Than her.

“Finley, I love you.”

I don’t know how I expected her to respond, but I didn’t think she’d recoil like I’d hit her. Her eyes shutter closed, and she swallows like it hurts. “Grey, please, don’t say that.”

My feet move of their own accord, taking me farther into the bedroom, closer to her, needing to touch her, to prove to myself that this is just some twisted dream. This can’t be real, not now, not after everything.

I sink to my knees in front of her, putting us close to eye level so that she can’t hide from me anymore. “Finley.” Her eyes settle on mine. Hazel. Lined with silver tears. Shattered. “Please, sweetheart, tell me what’s going on.”

The sweetheart seems to be her undoing. Her tears track faster down her cheeks, fat drops landing on my hands where they rest on her thighs.

“You can’t stay for me, Grey. I’m not—I won’t be—” She shakes her head, as if clearing her thoughts. “I need you to go tomorrow and give it a chance. I need you to see if you could love it there. You can’t stay here just for me.”

I try to decipher what she isn’t saying, but I can’t think clearly. I feel like I’m being split open by her pain and my own, unable to fix it.

She holds my gaze for so long that I know she’s waiting for me to agree. But I can’t. “Finley, I know what I want. I’m not going to Maine to check it out. I’m just going to visit.”

She shakes her head, short blond hair swishing around her shoulders. “No, please. I need you to give it a chance.”

I’m trying desperately to understand, to make sense of what she’s asking and why, but I can’t. “Why?”

Her jaw tightens, her face looking more pained than it has since we started this conversation. “You can’t stay for me, Grey. It would kill me.”

“Why?” I ask again, needing to understand.

It takes her a long time to respond. So long that I think she’s not going to say anything at all. “You might regret it. I might not be enough to make you happy. Not forever.”

Her words knock the breath from me, a blow straight to my solar plexus, and suddenly, everything makes sense. Gus, the bookshop, how she’s pushing me away now. She thinks she’s not enough. She thinks she wasn’t enough to make Gus stay, that she won’t be smart or savvy enough to start another business, that she won’t be enough to make me happy.

She hasn’t figured out that she’s the sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that have hung over my life so far. That while her family and my aunt and Charlie and my job have been enough to keep the rain at bay, there wasn’t any sunlight until her.

“Finley, I love you,” I say again, and this time, it doesn’t sound like a broken plea. It sounds like a statement, a fact, an absolute truth. I watch the words land. She doesn’t shrink away, but I can tell she’s still not sure that it’s enough. “No one and nothing has ever made me as happy as you do, and no one or nothing will ever again.” My throat tightens, a lump lodged there that I have to swallow against. “I’ve been broken for so long, Fin, and you’ve been putting me back together. I’ve never met anyone I could be myself with the way I am with you, and I don’t think I will again. What we have is special, remarkable. Once in a lifetime. The stuff of dreams.”

My voice wobbles, but I will it to stay strong. I will myself to hold her gaze, even though it looks as shattered as I feel. I hope she will let us put each other together again, but I know she won’t unless I do what she asks. Unless she thinks I’ve explored every last option and still choose her. She doesn’t realize I’ve been doing that for the last fifteen years, searching for someone who could compare to her, and I’ve come up short every single damn time.

“I’ll do it,” I finally say, and watch as her shoulders sag with relief. “I think this is stupid, though. I feel like I should make that known.”

Some of the tension coiling in my stomach unknots when she laughs. It’s throaty and choked with tears, but it sounds like my favorite song anyway.

“That’s okay,” she replies. “We wouldn’t be us if I didn’t annoy you a little, right?”

The knot unties a little more, and a chuckle slips out of me. My hands tighten on her bare thighs, beneath the hem of her skirt. “You’ll never let me live that down.”

She shakes her head, smiling a little, although it still looks wobbly. “I don’t intend to.”

“I love you, Fin,” I say again. Now that it’s out, I can’t hold it back. I need her to hear it as much as I need to say it. I think she needs it too, because the lines of her body soften, and she dissolves into me, pulling my face to hers for a kiss. It’s slow, tender, and achingly familiar. We haven’t kissed like this in two weeks. It’s like there’s been something holding the both of us back, and I realize it’s been our insecurities nagging at us from the inside out.

But this feels right, and I can’t help the way my hands drag up, knotting in the fabric covering her waist, wanting to pull it off and feel her skin beneath, show her with my lips and hands and body what I can’t with words.

She doesn’t say she loves me back, but I think she’s doing the same thing. Telling me the only way she thinks she can right now. She knows me too well. If she told me she loved me right now, she knows there’s no way I’d consider leaving.

She sighs into the kiss, and I tug her bottom lip between my teeth, loving the way she moans into my mouth, the way her palms land on my shoulders and tug me into the V of her legs.

If she thinks withholding words is going to make me consider leaving her for Maine, she’s dead wrong. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could pull me away from this. From her. I’ll go to Maine for the weekend, but I’ll be coming home to her at the end of it, and I don’t plan on going anywhere without her ever again.