Lured In (5 page)

“Tonight?” More of a squeak than a spoken word, it seemed to take some effort, but eventually she managed to nod, slow and short as it was. “Okay.”

At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and turned, the whole of her fear laid bare in her big brown eyes.

“Thanks, Finn. I really hope I can do this.”

“You can.”

She didn't look wholly convinced, and as she walked away, Finn had two thoughts.

He'd better not fuck this up for her.

And he should have given her the laundry to take up to the lodge.

“Fish or cut bait.”

You can't back out now.

How many times had Jessie repeated that to herself in the last couple of hours? At least a dozen. And each time she'd followed it up with an
Of course you can
.

No. She told Finn she'd do it and it was already ten to eight.

Shit
.

Her stomach hadn't stopped twisting since she'd left Finn at the Green cabin earlier, and now, as she headed up the north trail on quaking knees, she honestly thought she might throw up. Frankly, she and Finn had been through a lot over the years, but she didn't need him—or anyone else for that matter—watching her hurl into the bushes.

No. You can cry and you can freak out, but you will not—under any circumstances—throw up in front of him.

Jessie had no memory of walking past the work shed or the clearing where they'd set up a couple of nets in case anyone (guests or otherwise) wanted to kick a ball around. She didn't remember seeing the old dilapidated tree house Jimmy had built for the boys when they were little, and surely she hadn't already passed the huge stump with the wild bleeding heart growing out of it.

And yet somehow suddenly she was at the lake. Jessie had been close enough to it over the years to know that while the far end, which sat mostly in shade, had its fair share of moss and lily pads, this side was nothing but crystal-clear water and rocks.

And there was Finn, ankle deep in the water, his gray T-shirt half-tucked, half-loose, his jeans rolled up to his shins, and his fingers interlocked behind his head like they always were when he was thinking about something.

“Hey.” He made his way to dry ground, not seeming to care one bit that each step splashed water up his legs to where his jeans were rolled. Oddly enough, he didn't look the least bit surprised to see her, as though he never doubted for a single second she'd show up.

It was nice that one of them had that much faith in her.

Jessie stopped a few meters back from the water's edge, swallowed hard, then forced the strongest smile she could, but, truth be told, she wasn't even sure it reached her mouth.

“Hi.”

There were a couple of seconds of silence before Finn smiled softly. “So that Olivia—she's a little bit nuts, but, man, can she cook, eh?”

“What?” Jessie blinked hard, trying to make sense of why he'd bring that up now.

“I swear to God,” Finn said, “I could eat that salmon terrine thing every damn night.”

As he spoke, he reached into a bag he'd left on the rocks, pulled out a couple of the lodge's travel mugs, and handed one to Jessie.

“Yeah, I guess.” Frowning, she tipped her head and pointed at the mug. “So…what? Did you smuggle some out inside the mugs or something?”

“What're you talking about? It's tea.”

“Tea.”

“Yeah.” He dragged the word out a few seconds longer than necessary. “You always have tea about now.”

“I know, but—”

“If you don't want it…” He started to reach for it, but Jessie snapped it out of his reach.

“Try that again,” she said, laughing, “and you'll draw back a bloody stump.”

Finn just grinned and made his way slowly to the water, not as far this time, only going in deep enough that the water sloshed gently over the tops of his feet; then he turned so they faced each other. Jessie stayed right where she was, sipped her tea, and waited for him to begin preaching about the wondrous, marvelous thing that was water.

About how she had nothing to fear, that water was the most natural thing in the world, and how nothing could survive without it.

He didn't say anything like that, though. Instead, he talked about how many lures the guests had lost during the week, about how much he hated watching Ronan leave, and then he went on and on about the crème brûlée Olivia had served for dessert, as though he'd never tasted it before.

His voice always had a way of soothing her, and she knew he was using that to keep her calm and distract her from what they needed to do, but her tea was long gone and he still hadn't said a single word about her getting in the water.

“Um, Finn?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing? I thought we were gonna…” She didn't actually know what they were going to do, so she waved her hand toward the water as if that finished her sentence.

“We will,” he said, his voice soft, gentle. “When you're ready.”

“I
am
ready,” she lied. And as soon as he tipped her a look, she reached up under her sweatshirt and pulled out the towel she'd been clutching as though it were a life preserver or something. “I've even got shorts and a T-shirt on underneath; I'm ready.”

She hadn't owned a bathing suit since she was a kid, and in the time it would have taken to get one delivered to the Buoys, she would have talked herself out of the whole thing at least ten times over.

Finn stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at her feet; her sneaker-covered feet that were still a good meter and a half back from the water's edge.

“I don't think you'll be going deep enough to need the shorts tonight, but you might want to roll up your pants and lose the shoes.”

She'd lied; she wasn't ready.

You're never going to be ready. Just do it.

Right. Okay.

Willing her breath steady, she dropped her towel and travel mug to the ground, then forced her suddenly stiff hands to pull off each shoe. She set them up neatly next to the towel, then tugged her pant legs up to her knees. With her heart thundering in her chest and her hands fisted at her sides, she focused all her energy on moving her right foot forward, seeking out the least-sharp rocks.

Good
.

Then her left. She couldn't stop now. She had to do this, had to use every ounce of strength she could find to keep moving, to force herself closer and closer to the water.

By the time she got within one step of it, she was in a full-on sweat and had to fight the rising wave of bile creeping up her throat. Her eyes burned and her jaw ached from being clenched so tight, but finally she lifted her right foot, let it hover in the air for a few seconds, then blew out two rapid breaths and set it down in the water.

Every muscle in her body screamed for her to take it out, to run back to her sneakers—or, better yet, the lodge—and stay where it was safe, where she didn't have to worry about losing her footing and sliding under the water, where she didn't have to worry about scrambling for something to hold on to, and where she didn't have to remember that the thing she'd scrambled so hard to get away from that horrible day was her sister.

Eyes squeezed shut, Jessie choked against the vise grip around her lungs and had started to sway backward when Finn's voice, quiet but sure, reached her ears.

“I'm right here, Jess; give me your hand.”

Without a second thought, she flailed blindly until his fingers wrapped around hers and held on. He didn't tug or pull her any closer, just held her hand in his, warm, steady, and calm.

“Whooo.” Her breath whooshed out hard and fast as she dragged her left foot over the rocks, forced it into the water next to her right, and fought to pry her eyes open.

Cool, clear, and shallow, the small wave she caused danced across the top of her feet, tickled her ankles, then slid away again as Finn squeezed her hand gently.

“You did it.”

Unable to actually speak yet, Jessie chanced a quick glance at him and nodded short and sharp, sucking her bottom lip in behind her teeth. She was only standing in an inch of water, but it was something.

It was something.

And she didn't even care that tears were streaming down her face or that the only thing she had to wipe her nose on was her sleeve. She'd gotten in the water, shallow as it was right there, and that was farther than she'd made it in twenty-three years.

That day, she and Tracy had gone out on their air mattress, safe in the knowledge that it was big enough to hold both of them, and naïve in their belief that so long as they could see the bottom of the lake, they'd be fine.

To this day, she didn't know how Tracy got stuck; all she knew was that their parents must have thought all the splashing was just them having fun. So many times Jessie had tried to scream, but every time she sucked in a breath, her mouth and nose flooded with water, choking her, dragging her down until—

“Breathe, Jess.” Finn's voice swam through her head, giving her something to reach for, something beyond that memory. “You're okay.”

She grappled to reach him with her other hand, too, ever so thankful for the strength in his grip and the rough calluses on his fingers that proved they were, in fact, his hands and not Tracy's. Even knowing that, it took a while for Jessie to force her breath in and out evenly, to slow each one down a little more until she finally managed to breathe in time with Finn.

“There you go,” he soothed. “That's it.”

God, she hated this; she hated being so scared, so weak, she hated that he had to see her like this, and she hated how long it had taken her to make it this far.

Choking over a small part-sob part-laugh, she leaned her head closer to her arm so she could oh-so-gracefully wipe her nose on her sleeve again. It was no wonder she was single.

“This would've gone a lot faster,” she quipped, glancing up at him, “if you'd held my hands the whole way in.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But those first few steps were yours to take, not mine.”

His blue-green eyes smiled at her, and though she knew it sounded ridiculous, the longer he looked at her like that, the easier it was to breathe. It was possible she could have pulled her hands away and possible she might have managed to keep standing there on her own without any help from him, but she didn't. Maybe it was because the feel of his palm pressed against hers infused a trickle of strength through her. Or maybe it was because he made no move to let her go, either.

Whatever
.

“Okay.” With another deep breath, she rolled her neck a couple of times, then cleared her throat hard. “What do I do now?”

“Take your time,” he said, his voice both warming her and sending goosebumps dancing up her arms. “Get used to the feel of the water.”

“O-okay.” Jessie dragged her gaze from his and stared over his shoulder through the growing darkness.

Her body ramrod straight, she finally managed to wiggle her toes and eventually worked her way up to lifting her foot out of the water and putting it straight back in without having another panic attack. And all the while she held on to Finn, who carried on talking about everything except what they were doing.

“So Liam and Kate,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “That's something, eh?”

“Yeah. It's…”
Lift foot up, put it down.
Ouch
.
Stupid damn rocks—no, good, focus on the pain.
“Something.”

“I mean, I know they've only been back together a little while, but, damn, I bet they end up married again in no time.”

“End up
.
”
Jessie didn't mean to spit the words at him, but they slipped out before she could stop herself. “I don't think marriage is always a death sentence, you know.”

“Tell that to Ro.”

Ronan's divorce was the reason he couldn't stay at the Buoys with the rest of them; he couldn't afford to leave his job in Calgary until he finished paying off his ex-wife's tuition bills and convinced her to sell the house. And, knowing Mandy, it was going to take some kind of miracle to get her to agree to that, so until that miracle occurred, they'd only get to see Ronan during the holidays and on most long weekends.

And, of course, he'd come back next month when
Hooked
came up to film.

“Liam thought it was a death sentence, too,” Finn said, laughing quietly. “Right up until Kate got here.”

That was true. After his quickie marriage and divorce from Kate ten years ago, Liam had once again taken up the O'Donnell battle cry that women weren't to be trusted, and he'd waved that flag for all he was worth right up until Kate walked back into his life. Ever since then, he'd been walking around with that smitten look on his face, which, in and of itself, pretty much proved the O'Donnell theory wrong.

As for Finn—as far as Jessie knew, he'd never had a woman in his life longer than a month or two. Didn't matter who she was or how much he said he liked her, he just couldn't seem to bring himself to trust her, and it didn't take a shrink to figure out that the issue led straight to his mother.

It was a rare day that any of the O'Donnells mentioned Maggie, and Jessie had learned early on not to ask about her.

There'd been one night, in the fall of Jessie's first year at the Buoys, when Jimmy had had way too much to drink again and was in a full-on rage about God knows what. She'd followed the yelling out back and stopped dead in her tracks as his drunken roar echoed around them.

She'd heard Jimmy say some pretty horrible things to Finn in the short time she'd been there, but hearing him say that Maggie had been right, that Finn had been their “biggest fuckin' mistake”—that literally knocked Jessie back a few steps.

Finn hadn't said a word, just kept chopping the kindling, but he got this look on his face, a ragged ache that split Jessie's heart wide open because she knew that ache all too well; she felt it every time she looked at one of her parents.

And no matter how hard Finn tried to shrug it off or how hard she tried to convince him Jimmy hadn't meant it, that haunted look had dimmed the light in his eyes for a long time afterward.

That was the day Jessie knew she had to do something to get Jimmy into AA.

She couldn't imagine why Maggie O'Donnell would walk away from her husband and children, but there was no doubt that the pain she left in her wake was the reason Finn bolted from every relationship he'd ever had.