Page 107 of Scent of Home

“I followed the trail markers back,” Locke says. “I need to sit down.”

“This way,” Finn says. “Hey, Dana, I’ll be back in about half an hour. I just need to clean up.”

“It’s all right, Finn, Bray and Shane helped us get ready. We’ve got this. You go and be with your,” she pauses, “your family.”

Finn glances at us and smiles slightly. There is a glow of happiness in his eyes. “You got my resort ready for dinner service?”

Bray grabs Finn and kisses him hard.

“Were you worried?” Finn whispers.

“I was.”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.”

Shane pulls Locke out of my arms and lifts him up. I follow on his heels as he leads us upstairs and deeper into the main house.

It’s darker up here, more somber, and I see more of Finn than I thought possible. He’s living in a shrine to his lost family. There is almost nothing of him.

I try not to notice it, but it’s impossible. Shane toes open a bedroom, and I go inside, frowning at the single bed.

I look around and realise this is Finn’s childhood bedroom.

“There was no need to change,” Finn says quietly, but I don’t miss the defensiveness in his voice. “I didn’t have anyone to…” he cuts off that sentence and looks over the shelves holding photos and a baseball.

“Shane?”

He looks back over his shoulder. “I’ll check him over and then, when we’re ready, we can go back to our house.”

Our. I hear that loud and clear, and so does Finn.

Finn shuffles backwards, away from Shane and Locke, refusing to meet my eyes, but I catch his hand before he gets through the door frame. I drag him out of the room and halfway down the stairs; I stop. He passes me, but turns back, looking up at me.

“Finn, how lonely have you been?”

His eyes are so sad as he stares at me. “Perhaps as lonely as you.”

I cup his cheeks, feeling the stubble against my palms. “You don’t need to be ashamed of anything. You are the most capable, talented, stubborn beta I’ve ever met.”

I lean down and kiss him deeply.

“I found him,” he whispers when he pulls away. “He was lost and heading in the wrong direction. He’s got a terrible sense of direction, even with markers.”

He starts to shake, and I carefully pass him and lead him down to the bar. I go behind and grab a bottle of whiskey and pour a shot. I slide it to him.

“Drink.”

He picks it up and drinks it, then slides onto a stool. He’s still shaking, so I line up two more.

“He could have died.”

I nudge the shot glass.

“He could have died in that car. Or ended up back with Alpha Labels. We almost lost him. Jason let him go, can you believe that. If he hadn’t, that could have been Locke-”

“Finn!”

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