The next morning came much too soon. Finn woke up with a pounding headache. A text from Annika made it even worse.

Paparazzi alert.

He groaned and rolled out of bed. Almost landed on the floor, but caught himself just in time. He straightened up and snagged his phone from under the sheets.

What r u talking about?

Gemma doing her thing. Just play along.

Oh, sweet Jesus, this couldn’t possibly be good. Why did Annika and Gemma think they could play games with other people’s lives like this?

With what? He texted back.

Proposal rumors. The nurse is gone and I’m prepared to forgive you. That’s her script. Genius, right?

“Motherfu—” He broke off with a glance at Sparky’s cage, as if the turtle could possibly care what kind of language he used. What was Annika’s real game here? Sure, publicity. But was she trying to maneuver him into an actual proposal?

He dialed her directly. She answered with a sigh. “Don’t get all grouchy-bear about this. You take things so seriously, Finn.”

“What are you up to? Be real for one minute.”

“Don’t be mad at me. Talk to your father.”

“What?”

Oh, now he was definitely wide awake. He headed for the kitchen, the nearest source of water. “What did Stu have to do with this?”

“Would you stop stressing? It’ll be fine. Maybe it’s a sign that it’s meant to be. Maybe we should stop fighting destiny.”

He remembered the last time he’d talked about destiny. He’d been looking at Lisa at the time, and feeling like suddenly life made sense.

But ever since that first text to let him know she’d landed in Houston, Lisa hadn’t called, texted, Skyped, Facebooked, or anything. She’d disappeared in a poof of airplane exhaust.

Maybe this “destiny” idea was pure crap. Along with “love at first sight” and romance in general. Maybe Team Cynic had it right.

Right then, he felt more depressed than he ever had in his life. He hung over the kitchen sink, scooping water into his mouth to get rid of the sour taste of—everything.

“What did my dad have to do with this?” he asked again. “Is this some kind of setup?”

“Like I’ve been saying forever, you really need to make up with him. And that’s all I’m saying. I just wanted to warn you about the paparazzi. Don’t I deserve some props for that? Gemma thought it should be a surprise. So where’s my thanks, huh?”

Finn hung up the phone because he couldn’t handle another moment.

This was why he’d chosen wildfire fighting. Fire, dirt, oxygen, trees, sweat, blood, tears, a mission, a purpose. Distance from crap like this.

Finn dragged a hand through his hair, then hauled himself upright and staggered toward the bathroom. He had some aspirin somewhere. He ran the faucet, splashed water on his face, then popped an aspirin and washed it down.

After a long, steaming shower, his headache subsided. He downed more water and took inventory of his current state. Sober, for sure. Cold, clear and sober. Maybe painfully so.

He grabbed his phone again and called his father. For maybe the first time ever, Stu answered right away. Usually his calls got picked up by his assistant.

“Whatever you’re up to, knock it off. Annika and me are never going to happen.”

“She’s going to be a big star, Finn.” The sound of father’s staccato, rasping voice brought back so many memories. He was always busy, always talking, making deals, moving and grooving, too fast to stop and talk to his lonely son.

“Good for her. But I bet she can make it on her own. How about that? Why does she need all this bullshit?”

“That’s the way it works.”

Finn paused. His father sounded more tired than usual. “Are you okay?”

A brief silence made him tense up. Was something wrong with Stu? Why the hesitation?

“What do you want, Finn? What will it take to make you come back to LA?”

Finn frowned at the phone. Yup, something was definitely off here. “The season’s just starting. I’m going to be busy all summer, probably until October. I can visit after that.”

Yeah, that might work. They could talk. Patch things up. Improve their relationship.

“I’m not talking about a visit. I’m talking about moving back.”

Or not.

“Not in the cards, Stu.” Checking the time, he realized he needed to get a move on or he’d be late to pick up Molly. With paparazzi around, he’d have to allow extra time.

He put the phone on speaker so he could dress as he talked. “I like it here. I like being a hotshot, I like my crew.”

He pulled on a black hoodie and work boots—a generic outfit that stood a good chance of fooling the paparazzi— then went to the kitchen to get some coffee started.

The morning light made him think of Lisa and the day after the motorhome fire.

She’d stood right there at the sink with her hair falling down her back. A sharp ache tugged at his heart. When would he ever stop thinking about her?

Outside on the lawn, a crane glided through the air and tilted to a stop next to the koi pond.

“What about your…” Stu practically growled the next words. “Your so-called birth parents? You want to know who they are, don’t you? Will that make you come back?”

The entire world came to a dead stop. Finn froze. He could barely make his mouth form his next words. “Where the fuck are you going with this?”

“You want it. The name. That’s what you want most. You’re willing to bankrupt yourself for it. All that money you spent, but I’ll always have more. You can’t win.”

The truth coalesced in a crystal moment of shock. “Are you saying you know who my parents are? You said you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. But I do now. Just come back and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He laughed, because it was so surreal. “Stu, that’s nuts. If you can find out, so can I. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Not time. Money.”

Holy shit. All those false leads Ericsson kept sending him. Was that Stu’s doing? “Have you been paying Ericsson behind my back?”

Stu’s silence said it all.

Numbly, Finn watched the crane step into the pond. The water was so still that he could see a perfect reflection of the bird—a dark crane-shaped shadow extending underwater.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“I have my reasons,” Stu said gruffly. “Come back and I’ll tell you.”

“So you know. You know who I am.”

“I know. But you gotta come back, Finn.”

“Come back,” Finn repeated. He felt numb to the tips of his toes. The need to know his true background had consumed him for the past year and a half. His quest had gotten him nowhere. Thousands of dollars down the drain, and he still knew nothing about his real origins.

But he could know…if he did what Stu wanted.

“Quit firefighting,” his father was saying. “Come back to LA. Be the Finn Abrams everyone knows and loves. Dump Annika if you want. She’s irrelevant. Find someone else. Find a hundred someone elses. I want you back.”

A hundred someone elses.

Thoughts swirled through his brain, a whirlwind of anger and need and confusion. But that one sentence—a hundred someone elses—offered a spark of light for Finn to cling to. There weren’t a hundred someone elses for him. There was only one.

The thought grounded him like an anchor tossed into a seabed. Yes, he wanted to know his true parentage. But was that the most important thing?

At the far end of the lawn, Rollo and Brianna crept across the grass on tiptoe, clearly trying not to disturb the crane. Bri knelt on the wet grass and aimed a camera at the graceful bird, while Rollo kept a steadying hand on her shoulder.

His friends. The people who always had his back. His true family.

“No, Stu. I’m not quitting the fire service. I’m not moving back.”

“Then you’ll never know who you really are.”

“Wrong,” Finn answered sharply. “You’ll never know who I really am. You never have. I’m like a prop to you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Park me with a babysitter, pull me out when you need a family photo op. That’s what it was like. I was there, Stu. I remember.”

“Son—”

“Why is it so important to you that I come back to LA? What difference does it make in your life? Just tell me that.”

Stu muttered a string of curse words and ended the call.

Typical—he always hated being put on the spot. Finn could never nail him down on anything.

“Jesus!” Finn exploded in frustration. What fucked-up game was this? The more he thought back on that insane conversation, the more he felt sure something was wrong with Stu. Aside from the dick move of paying off his detective—by the way, he wanted his money back--his father didn’t have his usual blowtorch energy. But if something was wrong, the stubborn man would never tell him. No, he’d rather dick around with his life and bribe and manipulate him.

Shit. He paced across the living room trying to calm himself. If only Lisa was here. She’d have some kind of logical, down-to-earth take on this. Maybe she’d make one of her wry comments that always made him laugh. Or maybe she’d just sit in his lap and run her hands down his chest and make everything else fade away with her touch.

Or maybe she’d forgotten all about him.