“I’m starting to see a trend emerging here.”
Little Missy is finally done eating, and he saunters over to Finn with his tail wagging happily. The food must have toned him down because instead of trying to eagerly jump Finn’s leg like it’s his next great love interest, he just sits there and waits for Finn to pet him, which Finn does—gently tousling Little Missy’s big white ears. Little Missy leans into it with his eyes closed, looking contented and happy, and yeah, I get where he’s coming from.
“There’s also the fact that you’re way too rich.”
“Don’t hold it against me or anything,” Finn says sarcastically.
“Well, I, on the other hand, am not rich. Not even close. You know I’m not. If I were, I’d just buy more land and have a bigger sanctuary. I wouldn’t want to move Great Aunt May’s house, though, so I think I’d pay to bring it with me if it would make the journey. I’d build a huge barn, and I’d give tons of money to all the rescues I know are struggling, which is basically all of them. There are a million things I could do with a million dollars. Even if I did have the money and a big sanctuary and could hire people and have room for extras all the time and not have to worry every single day, we still come from different places. And the difference is that you’re going back to yours in six months.”
“There’s this thing called a phone. And a computer.”
“There’s also this thing called being epically awkward, which is what we’re doing right now. You’ve only been here for a week. There’s a lot of time between now and six months in the future—a lot of time for us to learn to hate or resent each other, and we’ll still have to live under the same roof unless one of us moves to the barn, and let me tell you, there isn’t a lot of room out here for someone to actually live in. The barn’s pretty full at the moment.”
It’s a big long speech, and at the end of it, I feel winded. I also feel deflated. I’m basically holding onto the bag of oats like a lifeline, and I’m pretty sure I also filled every bowl there is, which is about eight bowls too many.
“I see. So what do we do?”
“I don’t know.” I grip the bag of oats so hard that I’m shocked it doesn’t explode. It would be one heck of a mess if it did. “But I know what we can stop doing, which is proving and disproving theories.”
“So, I can’t test your theory about being too busy, me having too much money, and me leaving in six months and forgetting all about you? About two worlds coming together in harmonization instead of agony?”
“Yeah, pretty much all of that. Don’t test it. Please. I think since we’re still talking to each other like adults and being friendly, we dodged a bullet, but we should stop while we’re ahead.”
“I don’t think that’s what the saying means.”
“Finn, please!” I’m so emotionally spent that I didn’t even realize the tears were gathering until they were right there, pricking my eyes and burning up my nose like I forgot to plug it before diving straight into the water. Which makes sense, given I feel like I’m kicking and struggling furiously just to get back to the surface and take a breath.
Finn keeps on petting Little Missy, who just continues soaking up the attention. He drops his gaze away from me like he’s afraid to keep looking at me anymore since I might see it as a challenge, and he doesn’t want to upset me.
He lets out a soft breath, scratches the dog’s ears a little harder, then pets Little Missy’s ruff around his neck. He loves that. I know he does, and now his tongue lolls out as his eyes practically roll back in his head, and damn it, I wish it were me getting all that loving from Finn’s hands, even if I can’t. Because, duh, I just stood here and said so in a very long, very overblown speech that involved bulleted lists, legitimate reasons, and some old school, straight up clichés.
“Finn?”
“Okay.” He looks at me now, and damn, I wish he wasn’t so good at hiding his real emotion behind a blank expression because I know that can’t be how he feels. Or if it really is, then it’s going to kill me because that would mean he doesn’t feel anything, one way or the other.
I doubt that’s the case, though, because he’s not toying with me. He basically came in here to plead his case or try charming the pants off me again, literally, but I won’t let him because I can’t. The sanctuary has to be my number one focus, and what I’m doing right now isn’t focused at all. I feel totally out of control.