Deeper Than Destiny

CHAPTER 4 | Libby

CHAPTER 4 | Libby

––––––––

Now...

I’m not sure what I expected to see when I walked out of the stable that morning, but Finn Oliver wasn’t it. It had been four years. Four. Years.

And now he was back.

Waiting for me, I realize and it turns my mouth dry—and spikes my temper. How dare he show up like this. After what he did. After how long it’s been.

I’m stomping toward him even before I realize I’m moving and I can see something zing across his eyes. It better be panic, I think, but I know it’s not. Past four years notwithstanding, I’ve known Finn my whole life. We were best friends, and for one weekend, we were lovers. I know when he wants something—or in this case, someone.

And honestly that just infuriates me even more.

I stomp faster and he leans one hip against his car door, watching me approach and looking like he just fell out of a high-end magazine ad. The guy is mind-scramblingly beautiful.

But I’m immune now, I remind myself. I’m immune. I’m immune. I’mimmune!

I stop and we’re toe-to-toe. The Libby from four years ago would be noticing he still smells amazing, but the Libby from today is immune. Or mostly immune. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here like this, Finn.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d take my calls.”

“You were right.”

He shrugs again. “Can we talk? Privately?”

I start to say ‘no’ and then hesitate. I look up and down him and that’s my first mistake. He’s leaner than he was when I knew him and not in a good way. He looks like he’s been sick.

Or stressed.

Then I look at his face and that’s my second mistake. Finn is gorgeous. Honestly, Finn has always been gorgeous—he’s pouty lips and a hard-lined jaw and hair you want to run your fingers through—but there are dark shadows under his eyes now and his skin is far too pale underneath his five o’clock stubble. He doesn’t look well and I can’t bring myself to ignore it.

Ugh, you’re such a pain, I tell myself, sighing. I really hate myself sometimes. “Fine. But you better be quick. My dad’s home and I don’t want him seeing you.”

“Why—”

“Don’t do that. You know why. You started working for your dad right after my dad got pushed out. Kinda hard not to see the coincidence.”

He hesitates, something I can’t read churning in his expression, something I don’t want to read. He opens his mouth and I hold up my hand. “Ten minutes. Max.”

“It’ll only take five.”

Whatever. I try not to grind my teeth and turn back for the stable, waving for him to follow. It’s not that I want him in my stable, but I damn sure don’t want him out in the yard where my dad could see him. I can’t even imagine how that conversation would go.

Correction: I don’t want to imagine how that conversation would go.

For a nanosecond, Finn hesitates and then dashes after me. We duck into the stable and I pray he doesn’t notice all the ways things have fallen down around here. The family farm used to be gorgeous now it’s...rough.

Yeah, the brick aisleway is clean, but it’s also super stained from years of use. The overhead rafters are patched and there’s rust on the stall door hinges. If you go outside, there’s fencing that needs repairing and a farm truck that needs replacing and...well...we look shabby.

It’s thanks to him and his family, but I can’t help but be embarrassed and that makes the whole thing even worse.

And one glance at Finn and I know he’s already seen it all.

My stomach cramps and I cross both arms over my chest. “What do you want?”

“I have a problem at work.”

“Oh?” I’m trying for disinterested and polite and, hopefully, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ even though I absolutely do because Finn’s dad had a meltdown on Twitter and it’s all over social media. You can’t get away from it.

Which is probably a good thing in many ways because people aren’t going to let Mr. Oliver get away with it—and I have to admit a big part of me is thrilled. My dad never got justice, and yeah, a bunch of keyboard warriors won’t make that happen either, but at least they’re holding Finn’s dad accountable.

“Maybe you’ve heard about it on the news.” Finn’s eyes are hunting my face like he’s looking for secrets and it makes my neck go hot. “Maxon used our company Twitter handle to voice some really disgusting opinions about a former employee. It’s been...tense.”

I nod. “I bet. Oliver Holdings is known for two things: charity work and your father’s tantrums—and those tantrums outshine anything you’re doing in the charity world.” I blink. Holy cow, I can’t believe I said that.

Finn blinks like he can’t believe I said it either. “Pretty much exactly.”

Something shifts behind his eyes, a flash of connection, and a memory slams into me. Suddenly, we’re not in my family’s stable anymore. We’re in my apartment. Finn has pinned me against the wall and I’m loving it.

And I’m also scared to death because this is my best friend and the guy I’ve been in love with since I was a kid. I’d run into the bathroom just seconds before to splash cold water on my face, to get myself together, and now Finn’s holding me close and studying my face like he’s looking for cracks.

“I was trying to get myself together,” I’d explained and he had paused, something incredibly worried and earnest creeping into his eyes.

“You don’t have to be ‘together’ for me,” he had whispered.

“Yes, I do.” Then I’d leaned in for a kiss, leaned in so close our lips almost touched. “I want to be together so you can take me apart.”

A flash of heat rips through my body and I’m back and I’m shaking. This isn’t four years ago, I remind myself. This is now. “So,” I begin, deeply grateful my voice doesn’t go rough, “what does this have to do with me?”

“I’m going to call a press conference tomorrow. I’m planning on apologizing for his behavior, discussing how we’re going to prevent such behavior in the future, but I want to take it a step farther. I want to do some community outreach.”

My heart double-thumps. Community outreach? Is he thinking about...? I don’t let myself finish the thought. “Such as?”

“Such as I give you a hundred thousand for your therapy program and in exchange we get good publicity.”

“A hundred thousand dollars?”

“Yeah.” He looks around the stable aisle, gaze flicking from my stained brick to the patched rafters. “Looks like you could use it.”

I hate him. The pity that made me give him a few minutes of my time evaporates in a flash. All I can remember now is that he ruined my father and made me cry and ghosted without a word of good-bye.

“No answer?” he asks and there’s genuine fear in his eyes. He screwed up with that little comment and he knows it. “Am I to assume this means you’re going to pass?”

I should say yes. This is the man who broke my heart, who helped his father destroy my family.

But when I look in his eyes, I see begging—desperation—and I know I can name my price. Thanks to Finn Oliver and his father, my family farm is falling down. Thanks to Finn Oliver and his father, our fortunes are about to change.

“Oh, no. No, not at all.” I give him my brightest smile. “You want to pay me to make you look good? Barely possible, but you make it two-fifty and you’re on.”

He grins and unease curls through me. He always loved it when you negotiated, I think. Change your mind. Now.

But I don’t get a chance because Finn says, “It’s a deal.”