WINTER

The past couple weeks had been hard. I’d been so tempted to go back to the apartment, and I worried about Ivy constantly. When I wasn't worried about Ivy, I kept thinking about Finn.

He’d somehow figured out where Tucker lived and would drive by morning and night. Last week, his pattern changed. He started leaving donuts and coffee on the front step.

"What's this all about?" Tucker asked.

"I told him I bribed you all at Atra during my first month by bringing you food and coffee." The truck at the end of the street didn't move as I stood on the front steps staring first at the food and then down the road. Finn sat there until I picked up his offering and went inside.

"I miss those days." Tucker grinned and swiped a donut. Then he sobered. "You think you should at least talk to him?"

"I can't." I sipped the coffee.

"Do you think he’s the father of Ivy’s baby?”

“No. He’s so adamant that he isn’t, and I just don’t believe he’d lie about something like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I can’t hurt Ivy like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?” I asked offended.

“You heard me. I said that was bullshit. You’re using Ivy as an excuse. I think you’re scared.”

“Of what?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Of being happy,” Tucker replied, leaning back in his kitchen chair until only two wooden legs held him up. I barely resisted the urge to kick the chair out from under him.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you've been hurt so many times in your life by the people you love, who are supposed to love you back, that you don't trust in happiness anymore. It feels false to you. The closer people get, the more you want to shove them away. It was easy for you to stand by Ivy because she needed you. It feels good to be needed. But when the need goes away, what do you have left? Need and love aren't the same thing.

“When you love someone you have to be completely vulnerable to them. You have to give them the opportunity and even the means to knife you in the heart. Only you trust they won't. It was easy to love Finn when he was unavailable. So much harder when he returned that love. Having unrequited feelings are safe. It's when you share them that shit gets real. For that split second when you thought Finn was the father of Ivy’s baby, it hurt so bad you decided you didn’t want to be vulnerable anymore.”

“You don’t know anything,” I said, but even to my own ears the words were weak. I sat down in the chair opposite of his before I fell down.

He slammed the chair legs down and leaned forward. “If you had to do it all over again, would you wish you were never adopted?”

“No! Never,” I replied in real shock. “I love Mom and Dad. My life is so much better than what it could have been.”

“Right, so even though the pain of being left behind is fucking unbearable at times,” he thumped his chest, “and I miss my brother Will like a motherfucker, I still would want to live through it all again. Suffer the loss a thousand times for the honor of having him as my brother. Loss sucks. Hurt sucks. But it's worth it.”

I licked my lips nervously because I was at a complete loss for words. Was I really pushing Finn away and using Ivy as my shield? “I don’t believe that’s it.” I looked to Tucker for understanding, but this time there was none. Instead he speared me with a gaze full of pity and then demolished the rest of his donut.

"What?" I demanded. "What was that look for?"

"Just felt sorry for the old boy. No matter how many donuts he leaves, he'll come away empty handed."

“How do you know?”

"I know a hell of a lot about pain and loss. When my baby brother died, I turned to his wife. They'd been high school sweethearts, married just days before he died in Afghanistan. I thought I loved her, but she ran off with a Marine she knew all of five seconds." He laughed hollowly. "And she told me I didn't love her, that I only loved Will."

His story astonished me. Tucker had a steady stream of one-night stands. Some hookups lasted a week but hardly longer. I never once thought he nursed a broken heart.

"Was she right?" I asked.

He sucked in his lower lip and gave me an abrupt nod. "Yeah, I didn't want to let her go because she was the last piece of Will I had left. Finn isn't into you because he wants your sister. If he wanted your sister, he could have her. I only wanted Sam because Will was gone. That isn't the case with the two of you. The only person who’s making you feel second place is you."

Who’s first wife now? Finn had said when I’d told him to leave that night.

After those revelations, Tucker disappeared.

I couldn’t sit still, so I drove to Finn’s farm, bypassing the main road and taking the little-known access road toward the back of the property. I wanted to see it again—the pond where we'd made love, the land he cared about.

I parked the car and got out. The walk through the small forest wasn't easy. No one had used this path for a long time. I only knew about it because Ivy'd had me drive out here more than once after she and Finn had broken up and she'd lost her driver's license due to multiple OWIs. She'd wanted to see what that asshole had been up to. We never caught sight of him—only his truck, which had changed over the years.

I settled down on the spot where we'd had our picnic and drew my knees underneath my chin.

"Winter Donovan, right?"

My head jerked up. Mrs. O'Malley had crept up behind me, although how I didn't hear the horse, I didn't know.

"You were lost in thought," she explained, reading my silent confusion correctly. "Where's my son?"

"Working. It's nice to see you, Mrs. O'Malley." I stood and watched as she dismounted.

She swung her leg off the horse and came to stand beside me. Her riding boots were old leather and covered with dust. She wore actual jodhpurs that were slightly baggy around the thighs, a helmet, and a trim vest over a long-sleeved blue denim blouse.

"You two haven't been back since that one night." I felt my cheeks heat at the memory of that. I hoped she hadn't been around the pond that day.

"No ma'am, it's been a busy few weeks," I lied.

She stuck her hand under my chin and pushed it upward. She was about five inches taller than me, and I guessed she wanted to look me in the face. "You have this sad, martyred look on your face."

"Martyred?"

"Yes, very. I know it well. I've worn it every day of my life, so I recognize it easily when I spot it on someone else's face. Is this about the baby?"

I did a double take. "How do you know about that?"

She flicked her fingers. "Henry is a gossipy old man. He keeps me in the loop. He was convinced Finn would fail. Too young and not enough experience."

"Finn isn't going to fail," I retorted.

She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. "Henry told me about the drama. Must have overheard something in the trailers. You are apparently noisy—in all your activities." She looked down her nose, and I flushed, deep and red. Note to self: don't have sex in construction trailers.

"I couldn't say, ma'am," was all I could choke out.

"I didn't want Finn to take this job. In fact, I actively tried to get him to quit. I had Henry call off the concrete subcontractor and create a few other problems that would delay the project so he'd walk away. I underestimated Finn's stubbornness."

"He doesn't walk away from anything." I thought of the daily donuts and coffee. The frequent trips to Tucker's to see me. I wondered about all the phone calls and text messages I'd missed.

She pursed her lips and looked out at the pond.

"I love Finn, but I've always thought of him as inherently lazy because everything came easy for him. He didn't need to study hard in high school to achieve As. He never had to work to gain any girl's attention. He was a naturally gifted athlete and had a good sense of humor which drew people to him. He wanted for nothing. Not friends, appreciation from his teachers, or material goods. He had everything, including the deep admiration and love of his parents. Particularly his father.

“His father worshipped the ground Finn walked on, said Finn was the best thing he'd ever had a hand in creating. So when the Riverside project fell into Finn's lap, I knew it would be something he'd walk away from because that's Finn. If a girl became too much work, he'd break up with her. He could have been a great athlete but didn't care enough to work at it. He didn't want to have the hassle of running a big company like his father's, so he did small flips, short term ventures that required some risk, some work, and netted some reward."

"That's not why he went into flipping." I objected. "And he's a lot different now."

"Oh, he is?" She looked at me appraisingly. "And you know this how?"

"Because he told me." I stopped. "No, he showed me. He's finishing this project of his father's, even though he hates it, because he loved his dad and didn't want to see his reputation suffer. He…he told me I came first for him, no matter what. He fights for what he thinks is important."

"And so you’re important?"

"Yes."

She fell silent, and the words we'd shared hung between us like a giant cloud.

"And what about Finn? Isn’t he important? Doesn’t he deserve to have someone fight for him too?" she said and climbed on her horse and left me.

What had I done to fight for Finn? Nothing. I'd loved him, but in my insecurities, what had I done to show him that I thought he was important?

Even breaking up with him was an act of selfishness. It wasn't about preserving Ivy and the baby as a unit but making sure I wouldn’t get hurt ever again. I’d eschewed long-term relationships. Chose guys like Hugh who were emotionally unavailable.

Didn’t I nurse my unrequited crush on Finn because I knew I’d never have him?

Could there be anything more safe that unrequited love?

Mrs. O'Malley was right. Tucker was right.

The only thing that was preventing me from being with Finn was myself.