Page 41 of Where We Belong

Well, I guess I’ll let hunger win.

Careful to make as much noise as I can to give him time to slip back into his pants if he was getting down to business, I push the door open and say, “Hey, it’s me!”

No answer, but loud country-rock music is playing, so he might not have heard me.

Risking another step inside, I look up to find Finn alone in the kitchen, full-on dancing to a song with a foot choreography that seems too complicated to be spontaneous. Lips pinched tight to keep myself from laughing, I stand there and watch as he shakes his ass and moves around the kitchen, using a pair of tongs as a microphone.

When I can’t take it any longer, I walk to the kitchen, but the music is so loud that he doesn’t hear my steps.

“Hey,” I say right next to his face, making him jump three feet high.

“Jesus fuck,” he shouts with a hand on his heart as he goes to turn the music off. “Didn’t think to announce yourself?”

“I did. You were just too busy with your one-man show to notice.”

He purses his lips, then lifts one side of his lips into an annoying smirk. “Good, wasn’t it?”

“I will decline to answer this.”

He shakes his head, then turns toward his stove. “I was just making dinner. Want some?”

“Sure. I can help.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” He grabs a pair of oven mitts from an orderly cupboard, then opens the oven and pulls out…

“Are those dino nuggets?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you, five years old?”

“Excuse me, I didn’t know there was an age limit to enjoying these babies.”

I hold it together for all of three seconds before laughing out loud. “You want me to go get you a Fun Dip while at it? Or maybe a Happy Meal?” I snicker again.

“I’m a little bit of a picky eater, okay?” Finn says.

“A little bit?”

“Fine, a lot.”

“It’s good you’re very self-aware.”

“Shut up and grab your dino nuggets,” he says, and with a smile, I indulge him.

We fill our plates with literally just that—veggies are probably a no-go for him—and only once we’re both seated face-to-face at his dinner table do I dig in.

God, this is good. It’s been years since I’ve eaten one of those, always focusing on fueling with the cheapest and leanest protein while training or while prepping for the upcoming season. My mother rarely did the groceries at home, so I usually went by myself and got everything I needed. Josie was usually happy with my healthy meals, and if the rest of them weren’t, I didn’t care.

“See? It’s good,” Finn says after swallowing his mouthful of nuggets.

“I never said they weren’t good, I said you were eating like a child left alone for the weekend.”

“Don’t people say children always speak the truth?”

“Sure,” I say. “It definitely applies to that.”

“Thanks for agreeing.”

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