Finley Embraces Heart and Home (Love Austen 4)

“You can only be you,” Ethan says and shuts his eyes. I feel him internalising his own words.

“It’s hard to be me in this body.” It’s a whisper and I still, sensing Ethan stilling also.

I can see him searching for a reply, wanting to be careful, sensitive. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing too.

“I’m sorry it’s hard for you.”

Elinor sniffs. “I should have been . . . I feel like I’m . . .”

We listen, we wait.

Elinor laughs. “Would you . . . would you call me Noah?”

“Of course,” Ethan and I say at the same time.

“Would you, like, useheandhimpronounsforme?” in a rush. Noah is shaking.

“Absolutely, Noah,” Ethan says. “And . . . we’re here for you.”

Noah’s smile wobbles. He wraps his arms around me and then Ethan. He’s still sobbing, but he’s smiling too.

When Zach comes out, he takes his brother by the hand. “I love you, Noah,” he says, voice breaking deeply at the end. “Mum and Dad, too. They want a signal when you’re ready to see them again.”

It’s our cue. Ethan and I are quiet again as we move back towards the house. I fish out my phone, send Noah all the links and contact information I have that could help him and add a coda of hearts. If you need to talk . . .

I look at Ethan. He looks at me. We’re both thinking the same thing.

Oh, to live our true selves.

I haven’t slept well the last few nights. Bennet being in Ethan’s room . . . It’s strange, knowing someone else is there. Someone who is not Ethan.

I yawn loudly. Across the felt of the pool table, Cress looks startled; Ford, at the bookshelf, amused; Bennet sympathetic, like he’s noticed how tired I am. Ethan is quiet, expression unreadable.

It’s his turn to knock the balls about, and he does, his gaze slipping from the felt to me.

He misses his shot.

I survey the table and line up.

How quickly I went from my decision to stop leaping, to this untameable hope that we might leap together.

I’m shaky.

I miss my shot.

Cress engages Ethan in conversation as she takes her turn, and I press the end of my stick against my socked foot and absently rub the end up and down.

Next to me, Bennet is frowning at his phone. “You all right?”

He stuffs the phone into his back pocket. “Sure. Just a message. My gift card wasn’t claimed.”

“Gift card?”

“For Lyon.”

His little brother.

“It was his birthday at the end of January.” He lets the rest hang there, and I feel his ache, deeply. In the background, Julia is giggling for Tom to find her in what sounds like a game of hide-and-seek.

Bennet’s phone dings again and he hurries to check. His shoulders sag. “Just one of my editing clients.”

“Oh? How’s that going?”

He takes his turn at the pool table. “I’m not sure it’ll work. I’ve only got two clients at the moment.”

“Don’t give up already. You’ve only just started, you need time to build up a reputation. I’m sure you will. Kia kaha.” Keep at it.

My words momentarily transport me to my desk at fifteen, tearing out the pages of my notebook after getting the results of my English mock exam.

Ethan dragged my chair from the desk with me in it. He knelt before me, his solemn eyes pinned on mine. “So you didn’t pass the way you wanted. So what? Stop being afraid this means you can’t be a writer. You will become one. Kia kaha.”

“Oh, I have a great idea!” Cress’s elevated voice rips me to the present. She’s bouncing on her feet, close to Ethan. Bennet is thanking me for the encouragement and Ford is mucking around at the bookshelf, obviously eavesdropping.

“You should have a house-warming party!” Cress continues.

Ethan hums.

“You could have a theme. It’d be fun.”

“You’d all come?” Ethan says, glancing at me.

Cress and Ford heartily agree. “We could have it this Saturday. Should be enough time to tell all your friends about it.”

I waver. “I don’t know. That’s Bennet’s last night—”

“Count me in,” Bennet says. “A themed party sounds like a ball.”

“Ohhh, a ball-like theme. Dressing up nice, that sounds good.” Cress clicks her fingers. “Masks and mimosas. It’s perfect.”

Ethan’s gaze covertly clashes with mine and it feels like I’m falling from the cliff into the river again. The last time we went to a masked party was the first and only time we kissed.

“Masks.” The word is torn from me, deep and guttural.

“And mimosas!” Cress says. “Who’s in?”

“Your stepdad doesn’t seem to know you and Bennet aren’t together,” Ford whispers.

I look away from Ford to Bennet and Tom across the breakfast table. Tom is deeply engaged in their conversation, like he has been in all their conversations during the week. Tom approves of Bennet. His eyes are always alight with humour around him.