Finn

I nod again, regaining my composure, and roll to the side, allowing him to get up. He redresses quickly, kisses me on the forehead, and leaves quietly.

I try my best to fall back asleep, but after tossing and turning for forty-five minutes, I give up. Throwing on one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, I shuffle to the kitchen to make coffee.

There’s a note on the coffeemaker that says ‘All you have to do is press start’, and I smile to myself. Flashbacks of my dream all those months ago come rushing back to me, and Simon’s words send a chill throughout my body.

“He’ll take care of you. Forever, if you let him.”

“I will, big brother. I’ll let him,” I say silently to myself.

An hour later, I’m on my second cup of coffee when Tripp stumbles into the living room, looking around sleepily. He’s wearing nothing but sleep pants, and his hair is sticking out in every direction. I can’t stop the giggle that erupts in my throat. He spots me on the couch with my laptop and frowns.

“What are you doing out here this early?”

“Finn had to go into work, and I couldn’t sleep. I was trying to be quiet. Did I wake you?”

“No, fucking internal alarm goes off no matter the day.”

“That sucks. There’s coffee if you want some.”

“You are a goddess,” he gruffs, heading into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he comes in and sits opposite me on the sofa, reaching for the remote control.

“Will it bother you if I turn on the news?”

“Not at all. This is your house.”

“But will it interrupt you?” He motions to my computer.

“No, I was finishing up two articles for a client. They’re done.”

He nods and switches on the television. We sit in comfortable silence, alternating between the news and Sportscenter. When a segment comes on about the upcoming football season, he becomes animated, yelling at the TV. After thirty minutes, he gives me an exasperated look and puts it on mute.

“You hungry?”

“I could be.”

“You cook?”

“I do.”

“Want to join me in making some breakfast?”

“That depends,” I tease. “Are you trying to trick me into making you breakfast?”

He has the decency to look guilty, but gives me his signature grin. “No way. I’ll make you the best toast and eggs you’ve ever tasted.”

“You have eggs?”

“Absolutely.”

“Bacon?”

“Sure thing.”

“And bread?”

“Yep.” He smiles proudly.