When The Rain Falls

37. These Are My Assholes

37 THESE ARE MY ASSHOLES

FINN

The, otherwise organized, stack of mail flutters like confetti to the floor as I sweep an arm across the kitchen counter and hoist Aimee up.

“This will have to do,” I tell her, between full, urgent kisses. “There’s no way I’m making it all the way to my bed before I undress you.” I left work early to meet her here. And we were on our way upstairs, but fuck it .

“Now, let’s get these clothes off you.” I growl as I dig frantically into her jeans, pulling out her tucked shirt.

She wears far too much clothing lately. What happened to the days when she was prancing around braless and in mini shorts? Another reason to hate autumn. Right up there with fucking pumpkin spice everything and scarecrows.

“I don’t know.” Aimee grins wickedly, pulling away to admire my face. She runs her fingers along my hairline. I flick my thumb under her bra, where her skin is the smoothest. There are flames in her eyes, dancing wildly. Little souls in hell begging to be released. “I think I should make you work for it. I think I’ve been far too easy on you lately.” She nips along my jawline and my dick all but does a fucking flip in my pants.

I want her. Now. Desperately. But her wish is my fucking command.

“Alright, baby,” I say, bringing the boiling heat of my desire down to a restless simmer. “You want me to work for it?” My eyes are trained on hers as I throw my shirt over my head and toss it onto a barstool. “I can work for it. In fact, you’re going to love the way I work for it. Lay the fuck down,” I murmur in her ear. “And watch me work for it while your leg is over my shoulder.”

Aimee’s lips find mine. She smiles through the kiss as her nose wrinkles in pleasure. “Good boy,” she praises. God, I love her—I mean this . I love this .

Lately, instead of counting my breaths, I’m counting my fucking blessings. Some might say I got lucky the other night. But the truth is, I’ve been a lucky man since the day I met Aimee. She’s what I needed all this time. Someone patient and kind and reassuring. Someone full of contagious joy. When she walked into my life, she didn’t just light up the room, she lit up my soul.

Apparently, someone who runs into a rainstorm to dance has no hesitation about running into a rainstorm to save a life. It feels like she did that for me. Because my life has resembled a rainstorm for so long. And, time and time again, she just keeps running back into it.

A whole new world of possibilities is open for me now. For us . Because now, there’s no reason I can’t keep her. I had figured it was beyond the realm of possibilities to find someone again. I am now living beyond the realm of possibilities. And it’s fucking beautiful here.

I need to tell her all of this. But that’s a conversation for a different time. A more perfect time.

I help Aimee pull her shirt off. When it’s gone, I unfasten her bra and drink her in as I tug it hungrily from her body. I plant a kiss to each nipple as I ease Aimee onto her back. I’m hungrily working her jean zipper when a booming laugh erupts from the distance. Aimee sits bolt upright, her free breasts swaying deliciously with the movement. Both our brows furrow as the laugh reappears. It’s quickly followed by footsteps on the front porch. The door knob jiggles as someone works the key on the other side of the door.

Mom. She’s here for family dinner tonight. But she’s fucking early.

Goddammit.

"Tyler, you don't have to carry all the bags in on one trip," my mom says from somewhere near the end of the hallway.

Mom and Tyler. Fuck.

"I have a reputation to uphold," Tyler's muffled voice answers with a grunt. His voice deepens under straining. “All the women in town are fawning over my bag carrying skills. You haven't heard about that? I'm offended."

A cold sweat settles across my skin and I panic. I guide Aimee off the counter. She gathers her bra and her shirt to her chest as I scour the room for options. When I see the open accordion door of the pantry, I promptly usher her to it.

“Bear, what?” she protests as I push her into the dark space.

“Shhh,” I gesture for Aimee to keep it down. “Until I figure something out,” I whisper.

Aimee’s about to argue when my mom’s footsteps draw closer. Slivers of light from the slats in the door cut across Aimee’s body as I quickly shut the door on her. The last thing I see before Mom enters the kitchen is Aimee’s angry, red face being eaten by the door.

“Hey, Ma,” I spin and take a step back from the pantry as I run my hand through my hair.

My mom stops short of the clutter on my floor and looks up at me with her mouth open in shock. She has a hand pressed against her chest as if she’s just been scandalized. If she’s shocked by this, she is not ready to see a topless woman in my kitchen.

“Finn, dear,” she exclaims. “Why is your kitchen such a mess? Why is the mail on the floor? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Oh, I was just…” But my voice dies away when I can’t think of an answer. Luckily, the phone buzzing in my pocket provides a distraction. “Hang on,” I say as I pull it out and see a text from Aimee.

Aimee

Bear! Why did you put me in the pantry?!

Finn

It’s where I keep my snacks.

Aimee

Kinda hate you right now.

Tyler appears over moms’ shoulder. His eyebrows crease in surprise. “Bro, you know there’s mail all over your floor, right? Are you feeling ok?” He leans forward to inspect my face. “You’re just standing right next to clutter and not even getting twitchy.”

“I don’t get twitchy,” I argue. “Leave me the fuck alone.” My phone buzzes again.

Aimee

Can I come out now?

Finn

No.

Aimee

Why not?

Finn

You’re in the pantry. It would be weird.

Aimee

And whose fault is that? *angry face emoji*

“You know what this looks like, right?” Tyler accuses, hands on his hips. “It looks like you got drunk and passed out again. Shouldn’t you be at work? Do you need help?”

“Yeah, I do need help,” I mutter. “I need you all to get off my fucking case.”

“Hey, Finster.” My sister Jenna’s voice joins the crowd as she gathers next to Tyler and Mom. The youngest of the three of us, she looks like Tyler. She has friendly blue eyes and her hair is pulled back into a casual ponytail. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” She gestures at my chest. “We get it. You have muscles. Now put them away.” She glances down at the floor. “And why is the mail on the floor?”

“Goddamn!” I shout, flustered at the never ending stream of critical looks and questions. “Why do you all care about my fucking mail? Haven’t you ever seen mail on the goddamn floor before?”

Aimee

Who’s that?

Finn

A pain in my ass.

“Finn, dear, watch your language,” Mom scolds. “And wh are you so glued to that phone today? You’re as bad as Ruby.”

I ignore the question and sigh as I scrub the back of my head with my fingers. “Why are you all here? You’re two hours early.”

“My oven broke,” Mom explains. “And we wanted to get a head start on dinner. We figured we’d surprise you.”

“You know I hate surprises,” I mutter under my breath. Fucking hell. It’s starting to sink in just how flawed this idea is.

Aimee

I hope you have a plan. I’m not staying in here all night.

Finn

Give me a minute. I’m working on it.

“Hey, I need you all to go into the living room for a second. Real quick. While I tidy up,” I coax.

Aimee

Smooth.

Aimee

Real smooth.

“Finn, why?” Mom eyes me suspiciously. Tyler and Jenna match her expression. I don’t get a chance to answer before Dad lumbers into the kitchen. Did they invite the whole goddamn neighborhood? He walks past the three stupefied stooges and heads straight for the fridge.

“Hey, son.” Dad juts his chin at me as he walks by. “That lip is looking better. Got any beer?”

Aimee

Let me guess…your dad.

Aimee

Exactly how big is your family?

Aimee

Also, it’s stuffy in here. I can’t breathe.

Finn

Babe, hang on.

“You’re popular today.” Tyler shoots a sideways glance to the phone in my hand. “I thought you didn’t have friends. And you. Texting people. You know how suspicious this looks, right?”

I groan inwardly and try to collect myself. Then I scour the room and try to come up with a plan.

Dad pulls open the fridge and pulls out a beer.

“Toss me one too, Pops.” Tyler shouts. When Dad lugs a beer across the room, Tyler catches it expertly with both hands. “Got any chips?” Tyler asks, making his way towards the pantry.

“No,” I grab his arm and redirect him back to the counter. “Fresh out. This isn’t a fucking restaurant.” Tyler eyes me again, his suspicion deepening.

Aimee

You have loads of chips in here. Like five different kinds.

Aimee

You have Spicy Cheese and Spicy Nacho Doritos?

Finn

Shut up. I like chips.

Aimee

How long can you survive without oxygen?

Finn

I can last several minutes with you on my face, babe, so maybe you should chill.

Aimee

Good point. Also, let’s do that later.

“Hey, time for a fire drill,” I announce, circling a finger in the air. “Safety first. I need everyone to evacuate,” I hold out both arms and begin a lousy attempt to usher my family towards the hallway.

“Tyler, I think you’re right,” Mom says, planting her feet firmly into the ground and refusing to budge. “I think Finn has been drinking again.”

“Ma, I’m fine,” I mutter. When Dad tries to weave out of my reach, I grab for the sleeve of his shirt.

Fucking hell.

Too many monkeys. Not enough circus.

“Uh, Finn,” Jenna exclaims excitedly. “Are you aware there’s a woman in your pantry?”

Every sound in the room instantly dies as all eyes swivel to Jenna. She’s got the pantry door flung open onto one sheepish, but smiling Aimee. Aimee gives the room a polite wave. At least she’s fucking clothed.

Oh, fuck. Here we go.

“Of course, I’m fucking aware,” I argue as I cross my arms over my chest. It may be ludicrous for a grown man who was just caught hiding a woman in a pantry to sound indignant. And yet, here I am.

“A woman? Oh my God. A real woman!” My mom fans her face with both hands. I groan and cradle my head in my palm.

Jenna looks between the two of us. A mischievous dimple appearing below her right eye.

“Hey,” Tyler whispers to Aimee over Jenna’s shoulder. “Are you ok? Blink twice if you’re here against your will.” Aimee bends at the waist and begins to cackle hysterically.

Goddamn Tyler.

“Finn, I know you haven’t dated in a while, but you don’t keep women in your pantry. I think that might be some kind of felony.” The look Tyler gives me tells me he wants to be popped in the nose.

“Har har,” I grumble through a clenched jaw. “Real funny asshole.” I cut across the room, take Aimee’s hand and walk her into the kitchen. She gives my hand a squeeze and my face a gentle smile. Her eyes are still gilded with laughter.

“Ok, assholes,” I announce. “This is Aimee. Aimee, these are my assholes.”

"For Pete's sake,” Mom declares, thoroughly offended. She’s pointing a wooden spoon in my face and even though I’m forty-two, the wooden spoon sends a spike of fear through my veins. “Finn, I raised you with manners.” She turns two warm eyes to Aimee and turns her voice sticky sweet. “Hello, dear, I'm Missy. This is my daughter, Jenna. That's Tyler. And that's Finn's father, Lars." Mom gestures to the cast of idiots in my kitchen as she speaks. When she gets to Dad, he obediently raises his beer can. Charming.

After introductions, Mom immediately goes in for a vice grip hug. Aimee’s hands flail about as she searches for air.

“Fucking hell, Mom, let the woman breathe,” I mutter, trying to pry Mom’s claws away.

Mom eventually releases Aimee, but keeps both hands on her shoulders, wooden spoon still in hand. She looks at me disapprovingly. "Finn, seriously. Was that so hard?" She gives me a slight swat across the arm.

"Mom, please don’t ask him about what's hard." Tyler has an elbow propped against the counter. “Considering the particular circumstances, I don’t want to know the answer.” He leans forward and grabs an apple from my fruit bowl. I wish my eyes could form lasers so I could shoot them right into his face. Mom lets go of Aimee to swat Tyler's knuckles with her wooden spoon.

“Fuck off, Tyler,” I glower at him. Mom turns and unleashes her wooden spoon on me.

“Why does Aimee have sex hair?” Dad asks. “And does it have something to do with Finn being shirtless?” He gets the spoon next. It’s like whack-a-mole for bad manners and Mom can’t keep up.

Aimee turns beet red as she begins to smooth her hair down. “I like your sex hair,” I lean in and whisper assuredly into her ear. Aimee’s face wrinkles in delight and she covertly pinches my ass. Tyler sees, but smartly keeps his mouth shut.

“I’m sure it’s not what you think, Dad,” Jenna explains. “She was probably just organizing his canned goods.”

“And we know how particular he is about people handling his goods," Tyler quips, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Tyler, you watch how you fucking talk about her.” With reflexive brotherly precision, I reach out and smack him on the back of the head.

“Finn, stop being vulgar,” Mom chides.

"Come on, Ma. Like swearing’s his most egregious violation of the gentleman's code today," Tyler says, eyes roaming over my half naked body.

I feel Aimee’s hands on my back. Her smirking face tells me that she’s extremely amused by this entire thing.

"Aimee, will you join us for dinner?" my mom asks sweetly. “I’m making eggplant parmesan.”

I’m about to explain that Aimee’s just leaving when she eagerly answers with, "I'd love to." Wait? She’d love to? They’re my family and I don’t even want to be here right now.

I shoot Aimee a questioning look and she nods. So, I guide her to the bar and pull out a stool. I pull my shirt off the seat and slip it over my head. When she sits, I stand behind her. I place my hands protectively on her shoulder, as if my very touch has the power to deflect whatever havoc my family might dole out next.

But then something possessive and feral comes over me. And I suddenly want everyone in this goddamn room to know that her lips are mine. That her wild laugh, her warm eyes, and her soft heart are all mine . In fact, I kind of want to parade her around the city with her lips swollen from my kisses and my bite marks all over her skin.

Goddamn, Finn, that’s ungentlemanly .

What I don’t want is for my family to scare her away.

I brush a strand of hair out of Aimee’s face. When she looks up at me with her tantalizingly warm, brown eyes, I can’t help but feel that this is so natural. That she looks good with my family. That the hole in my life seems so much smaller now. I roll my fingers through the long waves of her thick hair.

"So," Jenna says, stealing my attention and breaking the gentle pull of Aimee’s eyes. She glances between us. "Last I heard from Mom, you were doomed to be a male spinster forever. I guess now I have to stop calling you Finster the Spinster. How long have you guys been together?” That's Jenna. Going right in for the kill shot.

I only roll my eyes halfway. Because I like the idea of Aimee and I being together. I like the thought of the two of us being a something.

"Finn, where's your spatula? It's usually in here," Mom says, rummaging around in one of my drawers.

"My bad," Aimee says. "Sorry, I put it in the next drawer over." My mom pauses her digging and gives me a pointed look. I have no clue what it means.

“Yes, Aimee. I need to know how you met my son since he never goes anywhere." Mom opens the next drawer. She smiles knowingly at me as she pulls out the spatula. Like it’s a fucking clue and she’s solving the mystery of my love life. “He just mopes around the house, like it’s his cave.” I close my eyes and take deep breaths. Maybe I should start counting.

Aimee twirls the glass of water in front of her and considers. "Well, technically, we met at a bar."

"Oh!" my mom exclaims. "A bar? I told you that you could meet nice girls at bars." She offensively points the spatula at my chest. Someone needs to take that spatula away from her before one of us loses an eye. Or a testicle.

"How do you know she's nice?" my dad asks dryly from his spot in the living room recliner. He’s casually flipping through an issue of Forbes. "She was in your son's pantry, touching all his goods." Fucking Dad.

Aimee just grips my arms tight and laughs like a baboon with a kazoo.

"Sorry for the hazing, Aimee," Jenna adds. "This is payback for all the times I've brought a boyfriend over and Finn's scared him off. I've been dying for an opportunity to get even."

“I never scared anyone off that didn’t need to be scared off,” I interrupt.

"Justin Patterson." Jenna folds her arms and assesses me for a reaction. "VP of an airline. A former student athlete at a Division I school, and took his grandma to church every Sunday. And you still came up with a laundry list of faults."

"But he was a fuckwad. Would it kill you to bring home a guy who isn't a fuckwad?"

"Finnius Albert Hudson! The cussing!" my mom practically hisses from across the kitchen. "I've had enough of your vulgar mouth. I taught you not to swear around company." Aimee slowly turns her attention to me. And she doesn’t have to say anything. I can already feel how much she’s enjoying this.

" Finnius Albert?!" Aimee asks carefully. "Your full name is Finnius Albert?" Her lips fold into her mouth as she swallows what I know is one of her more hysterical laughs.

"Unfortunately…" I mutter.

"It's a family name," Mom defends.

"Tyler, are you Tyronius or something equally amazing," she asks hopefully.

"Nah. They used up all the cool names with Finn," he says.

"Wait," Mom says, holding up a hand to pause our conversation. "There’s your father. Snoring again,” she says, pointing out a deep rumbling noise coming from the living room. “Can you take turns watching him? He needs to stay awake. If he naps now, he'll be awake all night and there will be no peace in the house. He's been having a touch of insomnia lately."

"I'll take first shift," Tyler offers, pushing off from where he was leaning on the counter. “And I volunteer Aimee to help.” Tyler waves for Aimee to join him. She slips off the barstool and out of my hands as she follows Tyler into the living room. When she leaves, she takes my attention with her. I watch the way she walks in those jeans. The way her lip curls in amusement when she talks. The way she pats my dad on the shoulder like they’re best pals.

"Finn, what are Aimee's favorite flowers?" my mom asks.

"I don't know," I say dismissively. My mind has left the room. Possibly, my heart as well. Is that something I should know? Her favorite flower? Wait a second. Mom’s already planning a fucking wedding. Goddammit.

"Mom. Stop it," I growl at her. Although, I don’t hate the idea. I don’t hate it one bit.

"What?"

"I know what you're up to and I'm telling you to stop it right now."

"I'm not up to anything, Finn. I just like to collect information. What do you think Aimee's favorite season is? Is it spring? I bet she likes spring. What do you think, Jenna?”

"Knock it off,” I scold.

"Oh, I see," Jenna says. She turns to Mom. "Finn's saying that Aimee is more of an elopement kinda gal."

"Thanks a lot, Jenna," I hiss, hands propped on my hips.

Mom drops her knife, wipes her hand on her apron, and turns her whole body around to face me.

"Finn, you better not." Mom's starting to turn red. Is that smoke coming out of her ears? Fucking Jenna. Getting her riled up on purpose.

"Ma," I tell her calmly. "You're jumping the gun. And you all need to start behaving. Because you’re going to scare her off.”

Mom lets her arms relax and fall to her side as she studies me carefully. Her face is starting to turn back to its normal shade of pale.

"Ok," she finally says gently. "But you promise me right now that you won't ever elope. My heart can't take that kind of pain, Finn."

I sigh and roll my eyes.

"Promise me, Finn," she demands.