Page 86 of Falling for Finn

“Positive. She mentioned several times that she needed to network and make connections in big cities to build her career. Considering we’re in a small-ass town, this place wouldn’t be ideal for a professional artist.”

“So you’re gonna let her slip away because ofgeography?”

I roll my eyes. “Wow, I didn’t realize you were a relationship expert.”

“I’m a woman, and I can read you like a book. You’re miserable and miss her.”

Of course I fucking do. She invaded my space for nearly three weeks, and we had more sex than I can count. But Oakley meant much more to me than that.

She had me wanting to rip out my hair one second and fuck her the next.

But the tender and vulnerable moments together are what made the difference.

“I’ll get over it…eventually,” I say harshly, wanting this conversation to be over.

“Well, in case you wondered, she’s just as sad as you and decided she’s moving out of her apartment.”

“To where?” I blurt out.

“She hasn’t responded yet.”

I shipped her boxes the same week she flew out, so she should’ve gotten them a while ago. There was so much I wanted to say before she left, but I couldn’t get the words out. Instead, I wrote her a letter and put it in one of her boxes.

But who knows when she’ll see it.

And if she’s already read it, she hasn’t texted or called.

I finish my food and put my dishes in the kitchen. When I come out, Jessa’s in my face again.

“You want me to tell you when I find out?” she asks.

“No.”

If Oakley wanted me to know, she has my number.

Once I escape her, I head to my truck. Even that has too many memories of her. Along with every inch of my house. I can’t go anywhere on the farm or in Maplewood Falls without thinking about her.

It’s fucking torture.

After a long-ass day, I call it quits. I worked nonstop, but it did nothing to clear my head like I hoped. If anything, it reminded me of the tours I gave her and when we made love in the orchard.

I’m tempted as hell to call her, but I’m not sure it’d help either of us. We never discussed keeping in contact after she went home. What would be the point? To stay friends? It’d hurt too much to hear about her moving on or dating someone else. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

As soon as I walk into my house, something’s different. The lamp upstairs is on, and I know I turned it off. I’m tired as fuck, so I might’ve forgotten.

Shrugging off my jacket and kicking off my boots, I make my way to the fridge to grab a beer. If anything, maybe booze can numb me long enough to pass out for a bit.

God knows I need sleep more than anything right now.

I make my way to my room and stop dead in my tracks when I hear sheets rustling.

Someone’s in my bed.

My heart pounds as I stomp up the remaining stairs, and I grow anxious at the possibility of Oakley being here. But when my bed comes into view, my anger shoots through the roof.

“What the fuck are you doing, Aspen?”

She’s sprawled out on the covers in nothing but a tiny piece of lingerie.

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