Lucky Number Eleven

Chapter 25

Branch

I pull my car into the driveway and kill the ignition. The last few hours have given me time to consider how to approach this subject and how to try to mend the fence that might just be irreparably broken.

A sprinkler kicks on as I make my way up the walkway, and I make a dash to the porch before getting doused. With a deep breath, I push the doorbell.

The little pop, pop, pop of the sprinkler head as it mists the entire yard frays my nerves. As footsteps become apparent on the other side of the dark wood decked out with a stained glass window, I steel myself.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Finn glares at me from the other side of the threshold.

"I want to talk to you."

"Didn't I tell you if you showed up here I'd call the police?"

"No," I correct him. "You told me if you showed up to my house that I should call the police. You said nothing about me coming here."

"Go home."

"Finn, who is it?" Poppy appears at his side, her arm going to his bicep. She looks at me with a much warmer level of acceptance than her boyfriend. "Hey, Branch."

"Hi, Pop."

Finn isn't amused by her cordiality or my willingness to act comfortable on his porch after being ordered to leave. His knuckles turn white as he grips the door and starts to swing it shut.

"Oh, is this how it is?" I ask, knowing I'm playing with fire. "You just write everyone off because you don't like our choices. Good call, Finn."

The door shoves away and he stands in the middle of the doorway. Poppy shifts to see around him.

"You want to know how it is?" he asks carefully. "This is how it is: you are not my friend. You have no idea what loyalty is or the respect that goes with a friendship. You took your little motto of doing whatever you damn well please and elbowed your way into my personal space. My sister's fucking womb, you asshole."

He takes a step back and narrows his eyes.

"If anyone in this world knows me, it's you," I tell him. "You've been at my side for the good, bad, and even the ugly ones."

He almost smiles. Almost.

"But because you know me, you should know this: I fuck up. I make mistakes that are sometimes bigger than anyone thought possible. It's my trademark. But so is my ability to make good on promises."

"What are you getting at?"

"What I'm saying is I'll take responsibility for that."

"Um, I think Layla was more than gung-ho," Poppy chimes in, a move that gets her a glare from Finn too. She just shrugs.

"It doesn't matter," I say, looking at her. "I am Finn's friend. I'm the one that should've seen the boundary and not crossed it. But I didn't and that's on me. I want you to know," I say, my gaze crossing back to Finn, "that I'll do whatever I can to make sure I'm there for her."

"What?" he snorts. "What's that even mean?"

"I'll let her take the lead and tell me what she needs and then make sure I do that. I don't know what else to do."

"I think that's a great plan," Poppy admits.

"You think that's a great plan?" Finn snorts, looking down at her. "That Layla gets to figure it all out while he sits back with a checkbook? That she has to go through a pregnancy and have a baby she's responsible for twenty-four seven while he's out fucking a whore in every city on our schedule?"