Page 100 of When The Rain Falls

Finn rotates his can a quarter turn and takes a deep breath. Ruby and Finn are both still learning to navigate her slight increase in freedom. And I think the process is making both of them a little crazy.

“I was just asking, Ruby,” Finn sighs as he fiddles with the pull tab of the can. Ruby stares him down from across the table. There's a pattern between these two. When Finn wants tointerrogate, this makes Ruby clam up. And the more Ruby clams up, the more Finn wants to interrogate. A perfect Catch-22.

“There’s never just asking with you,” Ruby mutters. The look she gives him could slice a watermelon. Finn just glares back, matching her expression, facial feature by facial feature. Sometimes,I swearthey are the same person.

And then Ruby stands from the table. Her chair nearly toppling backwards as she rises. She maneuvers around the chair and storms away.

"Come back and clear your plate!" Finn calls after her.

"I will later," she shouts from down the hallway.

“Goddammit,” he mutters and tosses a crumpled paper napkin onto his plate. He rubs his temples and there’s a watery shimmer in his eyes.

I rest my hand on his back, glide my palm over the smooth muscles below his shoulder. The moment I touch him, I feel the tension in his body go slack. “Let her cool off. Then you can try again later,” I offer. I remember being her age. When my emotions were so big and so heavy that they would color the world around me. It’s hard to see good intentions and genuine concern when your mind is flooded with insecurities and you’re desperately grasping for independence.

Finn collects himself. He turns to face me. He takes my hand in his and presses a kiss to my wrist. He doesn’t say anything. But there’s athank youon his face.

“I appreciate it,” he says softly. “Everything.” Everything. I’m not exactly sure what he means byeverything. But still, I gather his praise like a bouquet of flowers. It makes me feel warm. Like a smooth stone being washed in the rays of the sun. He runs a hand down my thigh. His hand is weighty and warm. When he gives me a squeeze, I’m reminded how large his hands are and how good he is at wielding them.

"Want to sit on the back deck?” He nods to the sliding door. “The porch swing?”

"Sure,” I tell him. “That sounds nice.” Suddenly, I have to swallow around a new layer of thickness forming in my throat. This is everything I imagined a real relationship to look like. Cooking side by side and enjoying quiet moments on a porch. How is this man giving me everything I ever wanted?

Finn tells me not to worry about the dishes, that he’ll get to them later. He takes my hand and guides me out the sliding back door, but not before stopping to grab a blanket from the hallway closet. When we step outside, he gestures for me to take a seat on the swing. When I take a seat beside him, he wraps the fleece around my shoulders. I rest my head against him and we both stare up the trunk of the large fir trees in his backyard, the tips of the trees disappearing far above us. The sun sets low through the thick boughs of the trees, casting light against the side of the house in diffused, orange glows against the dark grey siding.

"I don’t sit out here enough,” Finn says. He pushes off the deck with his feet and we sway gently forward. I nestle up against him and he moves his arm to make room for me next to his heart.

“So,” I prod. “What was up with earlier? Why were you so mad?” Finn doesn’t answer. He just keeps caressing his fingers against my waist.

"Bear," I prod.

He’s quiet for a moment and then he finally answers. "There was a bar complaint against me," he starts. “It was a bit ago. I thought it would be no big deal. Hoped it would go away. But it didn’t." He pauses before continuing. "On the way home, my lawyer called. They're offering a deal. A stipulation."

"Ok,” I say tentatively. “Is that good?"

"If I agree that I violated rules, they're going to give me a light sanction. Or punishment. Whatever you want to call it.”

“What kind of punishment?" I look at him again, but he keeps his gaze fixed low on his lap or his feet. It's hard to tell which. His face is expressionless.

"A sixty day suspension." He turns his hand over and picks at his palm. "And anger management."

“That's not so bad."

"It's fucking ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand along his thigh.

"You don't think you need anger management?"

He sighs before taking my hand in his. His thumb brushes across my knuckles and then traces the veins on the back of my hand.

"I never imagined that it would be worth it,” he confesses. “To work on myself. Until now. Until you.” I look down at our hands. Where he’s caressing me. And my heart skips at his words. At the thought that I’m worth something to him.

I can’t help but notice that even though the mood is gloomy, there's a brightness on his face that didn't used to be there. Like after days of darkness, the sun is promising to finally rise again.

“Twenty-seven, huh?” he breaks the silence. His heartbeat thumbs soothingly in my ear, his legs brush against mine as they rock us.

I curl my arm around his. “Does it matter?”

“Only that maybe you should stop calling me Daddy now.” I think he’s joking, but I can’t exactly be sure.

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