Page 91 of Feel Me

My face warms and I’m ready to tell Finn he can’t put this all on me. That I’m not the only one to blame. But I don’t know anymore. Not with how I’m feeling.

I rub my face. “When was the last time you talked to her?” I ask. “And how did you start calling her to begin with?” The trouble Finn was in made him a defendant, not a victim. But Mel didn’t treat him that way. It shouldn’t surprise me, being who she is. But it does.

Finn looks at me closely, like he’s trying to get a fix on me. “It’s been a while since we talked, and long before Thanksgiving, you know, the first time you fucked up.” He grins at my narrowing stare. “When I first got in trouble, she told me if I ever needed to talk, to call her and she’d be there for me.” He shrugs. “So I did and she was.”

When I don’t respond, he shakes his head. “Shit, Declan. You finally meet someone actually worth spending time with, and just like that you let her go.” He huffs. “Dumbass.”

“It wasn’t just like that,” I say, my temper rising.

“Wasn’t it?” He leans forward. “You know what Wren recently said about you?”

I slump in my seat. “No, but I can’t wait to hear it.”

“That you’re the shepherd in the family.”

“The shepherd?” I ask.

“You know,” he says. “The guy with the big stick.”

“I know what a shepherd is,” I say. “But what the fuck does that mean?”

He glances down at the industrial strength carpet. “No, that can’t be right.”

“Good, because it sounds—”

He perks up. “You’re the sheepdog,” he says, pointing. “That was it, which makes total sense cause you’re acting like a little bitch.”

“What the hell, Finn?”

“Hear me out.” He holds his hands out, like what he has to say is important, but can’t remember exactly what it is. “We’re the flock, the seven of us with Ma. Yeah, that’s it. So we’re in the field, eating grass, playing with the cows, and jumping over fences and some shit, you hear what I’m saying?”

“I hear it,” I admit. “I just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He ignores me, speaking fast like he’s onto something. “But it’s like, all this time you’ve been biting our heels, barking out orders, keeping us in line, and being a dog, you forgot to look at the rest of the pasture.”

“The pasture?” I ask slowly.

“Yeah. And it turns out there’s like this whole farm.”

“With a barn full of crazy?” I offer.

He brushes the comment aside. “No, with like other pastures. And in one of those other pastures there’s another sheepdog, looking out for the flocks of ducks.”

I just blink back at him.

“Melissa,” he says, like I’m the stupid one. “Melissa is the other sheepdog. The one who looked after you, took care of you, even though she was still looking after the chickens, ducks, and goats.” He leans in. “She was the sheepdog you needed, the one you shared your bed with, the one you introduced your flock to, the one who showed you how good the rest of the pasture is and everything you weren’t seeing on that farm.” He makes a face. “Believe it or not, it sounded good when Wren said it.”

“Are you trying to tell me Melissa showed me everything I missed out on? That where I looked out for everyone, I didn’t look out for myself as I should have—in the way that mattered most?”

“Close enough.” He smirks. “Oh, and that maybe you should have puppies.”

He’s trying to tell me I shouldn’t let her get away.

And he’s right.

CHAPTER 25

Melissa

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