Page 64 of Sometimes You Stay

And she wasn’t going to let Finn feel sorry for her. Not when she had a good life. A full life. Even if she didn’t have a full house.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Pursing his lips to the side, he nodded slowly. “All right. How about we stop at Kildare Capes and walk a little bit?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

She didn’t know what she was agreeing to, but she wouldn’t pass up a moment to catch her breath, to set down the memories that clouded her mind.

Within minutes, he’d parked his old pickup—the army-green one that looked like it belonged in one of those World War II movies—in a little pull-off big enough for just one vehicle. She hopped out as soon as he stopped, closing the door behind her. The sound immediately disappeared, replaced by the clapping waves nearby and the call of the birds. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she inhaled the smell of lush grass and open water, sunshine and serenity.

“Come on.” Finn had rounded the hood of the truck and reached out for her hand. She paused for a split second before sliding her palm against his and letting him lead her across the pale sand toward the shore. The call of the wind and the waves revealed exactly where they were headed, and yet when they arrived on the beach, she realized she hadn’t had any idea.

It was a small beach, just a little scrap of rich sand tucked between towering walls of red earth. Uneven and messy, they curved and jutted into the water. The beach disappearedand there were only red-rock walls meeting the blue waves, natural sculptures that no artist could compete with. Only the sounds of peace and the smell of earth and sky and a tiny bit of heaven between them.

“What is this place?” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand, his fingers strong but gentle. “This is my home.”

He had the same strength as these walls that withstood the endless waves, the same refusal to back down or back away. The same beauty too.

Which was absolutely ridiculous because Finn was not beautiful. He was ... Finn. He was handsome and rugged and kind and loyal and protective. He was not beautiful. But he and the island were the same. The iron that made the shores red ran through his veins too. And the gentle heart of the land was the same one that beat inside him.

Cretia stopped walking, tugging on his hand so he stayed by her side. “Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I thought you might like to get somecontent. And...” He paused, stepping to face her. She had to look up to meet his eyes, and his gaze searched hers like he was reading a map for the first time. Shivers raced down her bare arms, nearly breaking their hands apart. But he held fast.

“This is one of the most beautiful places on the island—one of my favorites anyway. And I wanted you to see it.”

“Because...”

“Because even if you’re only here for a little while, I don’t want to hold anything back. I don’t want to miss a chanceto share something great with you. To show you how great it could be.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs, painful and ecstatic at the same time. He wasn’t talking about a slice of coastline on the north shore or a beautiful spring morning. He was talking about sharing something real. Something powerful. Between them.

He dragged his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow, a whisper of a touch that left fire in its path. She gasped and closed her eyes, wanting only to know the feel of him against her skin. Everything else disappeared. The beauty of creation vanished until there was only her and Finn. And maybe God had created them to be in this very moment.

His hand traveled back up her arm, but he didn’t stop at her shoulder, his fingers walking over to her neck and dancing up to her jaw. Her stomach swooped like the birds on the ocean wind, and she leaned toward him, grabbing on to the front of his shirt. She had to or she would fall over completely.

Finn’s muscles tightened just beyond her knuckles, his breathing above her head soft and erratic.

She was playing with fire. And well aware of it.

He was never going to leave the island, and she wasn’t going to stay. But she would always wonder if she walked away in this moment.

Regret was a vicious master. And she refused to let it taunt her. She’d rather know than be left to imagine. Memories were better than remorse.

Licking her lips with the tip of her tongue, she leaned into his warmth, into his strength. His arms wrapped around herwaist, tucking her against him. She pressed an ear to his chest and listened to his pounding heart.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” he whispered, though he didn’t make a move to let her go. He quickly followed that with a self-deprecating chuckle. “That probably should have been inside processing.”

“I am too.” She couldn’t explain why she also admitted it. But it had been nearly ten years since she’d been kissed. And she’d been held this close by a man exactly never before.

Risking a glance up into his face, she met his gaze. His eyes were intense, but his face held the same kindness she’d known since he’d swooped in to rescue her. He captured a few strands of her hair that had been blown free by the wind and tucked them into place, his fingers brushing against her ear and melting something deep inside her chest.

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