I nodded, utterly fucking relieved. I was sure that Brant would have tried something eventually. And just like he’d taken her against her will, the word no wouldn’t have mattered to him.
Finley pulled the covers around her and I flicked off the lamp. “Get some sleep,” I said. “We’ll figure everything out in the morning.” I hope.
*
After a pancake breakfast at a diner along the highway, we were finally back in town. I pulled into Finley’s apartment complex and took a moment to compose myself. I didn’t want this to end in a fight, but I had a feeling it might, and I was prepared to go to battle.
Once inside, we watched Maple run straight to her stuffed owl and squeal with delight. Finley’s eyes found mine and she smiled—for the first time since this whole ordeal began, I was willing to bet.
“It’s good to be home, isn’t it, baby?” Finley said.
If she thought this was home, she was kidding herself. “Get packed up, I’ll wait.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Her smile vanished, eyes narrowing. “Wait. What?”
“If you think after everything that’s happened, I’m letting you guys stay here ...” I shook my head, my stiff posture matching hers.
“And here I thought you were being so sweet and helpful.” She planted her hands on her hips. “But once again, you’re just trying to control the situation. How many times do I have to tell you I can fend for myself? Plus, Brant’s locked up. You said we don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
I growled out a curse under my breath. Her constant rejection didn’t just hurt, it fucking stung. I'd been pushed too far and I was ready to snap. With Maple playing across the room, I leaned in close to Finley; I didn’t want her daughter to hear the ugly venom in my voice. “I'm done. You pushed too far this time. I don't give a flying fuck what you want anymore. Do you know what I went through knowing you two were in danger? And it's become pretty damn obvious that this place isn't safe. So I'm not asking you again. I'm telling you. Pack your shit. Please. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
We squared off, gazes locked together, neither of us willing to budge. But this was it. If she pushed me again, I might just walk out of her life for good. This moment meant everything.
Just as Finley angrily opened her mouth, a knock sounded at her door.
Her brow crinkled in confusion, she growled and whipped around to open up. It was a thin, jowly man with a bad comb-over and a handful of wrinkled papers. Based on the pieces of their hushed conversation I strung together, he was her landlord, and she was late on her rent. Very late—more than what she would've missed while being held prisoner.
Watching this train wreck of a conversation almost made me feel bad for Finley. None of this was her fault, and her dignity had already taken a beating lately. But it was time for her to realize that she wasn’t in this life alone. She didn't have to prove anything. She didn’t have to shoulder every burden like it was her own personal cross to bear. I wanted to help. I was here for her, and I always would be. Time and time again, I'd demonstrated that she could rely on me, and still she was fighting her way through life alone, one awful situation after another.
“I told you one more time and I’d evict you,” the landlord said, his voice stiff. Clearly this wasn’t his favorite part of the job.
Adding this complication to an already volatile situation was like throwing gasoline on a fire. Finley straightened her shoulders and gritted her teeth. “Fine. Then consider us evicted. Bye.” She slammed the door in his face and stalked into the bedroom, me on her heels and Maple toddling along behind us.
I watched as Finley grabbed a duffel bag from her closet and started stuffing the clothes from her dresser inside. She looked up at me and I expected some smart quip about me getting what I wanted. Instead, her eyes were simply sad.
“Will you go pack up that bureau?” She tipped her chin to the tall dresser in the corner of her bedroom. “It’s Marcus’s stuff and I can’t bear to go through it right now.”
“Of course.”
While I packed up a few framed photos, dog tags, a folded flag and a box of old letters, Finley threw clothes and shoes and toys into a couple of bags.
“What about the furniture?” I asked when she looked like she was through.
“Maple will need a crib...but the rest...” She shrugged.
“We’ll get her a new one.”
Finley breathed deeply for the first time since we arrived. “Let the property management deal with it. It was all secondhand anyhow.”
I lifted Maple into my arms and took a couple of the bags from Finley. “Fine by me. Let’s roll, baby.”
Chapter Fourteen
Finley