Page 42 of Sometimes You Stay

She brushed her fingers along his forearm, light as a feather. He was forgiven. For intruding parents. For interrupted kisses. For a life that must look entirely foreign to her.

“Oh, Finnegan,” his mom cried.

He whipped around to look for the disaster that must have provoked his mom’s reaction. Maybe Joe had gone after one of the throw pillows or pulled his treats off the counter. That had happened once or twice. But his dog had been in the barn with them, and a quick survey showed his home was just as he’d left it a few hours before.

“Your desk is a mess!” his mom continued, marching in that direction.

Finn almost laughed the comment off until she neared the corner in question. Suddenly his pulse skyrocketed, and a rush of adrenaline raced through him.

He’d dropped the letter from the bank on top of a pile there. He also hadn’t bothered to move it since then.

“Mom!” The word came out much sharper than he’d intended. At least it made her stop and turn toward him, so he slapped on the best smile he could manage. “Would you ... would you...” His mind was absolutely blank. He’d like to blame the board he’d taken to the face, but that wasn’t at fault. Still, maybe he could use it as an excuse. “Would you get me an ice pack for my eye?”

“Oh, my dear. Yes!” She scurried toward the kitchen, almost immediately rummaging through the freezer. Ice cubes clinked against each other as she poured them into a plastic bag.

He let out a quick sigh of relief, only to see his dad headed in the same direction his mom had been.

“Your father had a pretty good system back in the day,” his mom said. “I’m sure he’d help you get it organized.”

As if pulled by a rope, his dad strolled toward the desk and the letter he absolutely could not see.

Finn swallowed hard against the sudden pounding of his heart in his throat. “No. No.”

His dad turned, halfway across the room, an arched eyebrow asking all the questions he needed to.

“I mean, I know where everything is.” Finn offered a lame shrug. “A new system would just make me lose things.”

With a laugh, his dad walked back toward him, his motions stiff and slow, and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s my boy.” Leaning in, he added in a whisper, “That’s what I tell your mom even if I have no idea where things are.”

Finn gave the expected chuckle, but a line around his lungs pulled tight, stealing his breath.

“You could hire some help, you know,” his mom said as she marched his way, holding out the ice pack wrapped in a dish towel. “I did most of the finances when your dad ran the business.”

He accepted the ice and pressed it to his face, the cold making him grimace and reigniting the nerves along his cheek. Keeping his other eye on his dad, Finn watched for any response to the suggestion.

His dad squeezed his shoulder. “That’s not a terrible idea.”

Finn couldn’t tell if that meant his dad thought he could use the help. Or if it meant that he didn’t think Finn could do it all on his own.

Probably the latter. Which stung like a wasp. But that hadn’t changed in more than ten years. His dad had always questioned his ability to take on the family business. Not so much to his face, but Finn had overheard enough to know the truth.

“I’m doing fine,” Finn said. “Things are running as smoothly as ever.”

His dad cleared his throat. “I heard from Mike that you’re thinking about adding onto the barn.”

Finn pressed his ice pack harder against his cheek. It was already numb, but the pressure against his face took his mind off of other stresses. “It’s just an idea. I haven’t really looked into it.” His insides twisted on the lie. But he couldn’t handle hearing his dad’s thoughts on a possible addition.

The property boundaries hadn’t changed since his great-grandfather bought the land. But the once tree-covered fields were now grassy pastures, fenced plots for the dogs—and other animals—to roam. The rolling hills blocked even ahint of a view of the north shore, but on quiet days, Finn imagined he could hear the gentle crash of the bay against the rocky red beaches.

Sometimes, when he let the dogs out to run, he stood in the fields and simply watched the wind ripple through the tall grass, the green flickering and changing with every stroke. Even Roberta enjoyed simply standing in the sunlight that poured over the hills. The animals seemed to know what he had learned long ago. There was something special about this plot of land.

It was made for more.

His dad had seemed content with it as it was. As far as Finn knew, his dad’s only hope was that the business would continue, that Finn wouldn’t sink what their family had worked so hard to build.

Finn wanted more than survival. He wanted to leave a mark, to raise the trajectory of their family’s name.

But until he could prove that he could grow the business into something more than producing a few dozen dogs a year, he wasn’t ready to tell his dad about his hopes for expanding the barn.

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