Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (16 page)

“Fine,” I sigh dramatically, “I’ll see you at eight, you man
of mystery.”

We say goodbye, and I flop back on Finn’s bed, imagination
whirring. Though much of this past month with Finn has been surprising, little
of it has been premeditated. This is a bit of a break in character for my
partner in crime. In this rare moment of solitude, my mind wheels back over the
past four weeks. It’s incredible to think that I’ve only known Finn that long.
It feels as though we’ve been part of each other’s lives for years. But then
again, perhaps that follows. Our paths through life have been oddly similar.
We’re the youngest children of broken families, forced to raise ourselves for
lack of a better option, using our creativity to break out of the mundane lives
we might otherwise have gotten stuck in.

Our backstory may be complicated, what with our parents’
relationship and all, but Finn and I fit together in a way that can’t be
ignored. Not even under the least favorable conditions. Free from our family
complications, alone out here in a new city, I start to believe that maybe this
doesn’t have to be a fleeting arrangement. Maybe this can just be…my life.

But I guess that rather depends on the person I want to
share that life with, doesn’t it?

Chapter Ten

I hop off my borrowed bicycle and walk it up to The Bearded
Bird just before eight o’clock. The sky overhead is streaked with pink and
orange as the sun sets behind the pine trees that rise up along the horizon. I
pause for a moment before locking up the powder blue cruiser, breathing in
deeply and savoring the perfect summer evening. Maybe it’s just the promise of
Finn’s surprise, but something about tonight feels momentous. My own excitement
is amplified, as if it’s being reflected tenfold. I don’t know how to explain
it, but I can feel that something major is about to shift.

Let’s just hope that it’s a
good
something.

I push open the door of The Bearded Bird and feel myself
relaxing the moment I step inside. Murmuring conversation and contemplative
music fill the small space as I make my way up to the bar. The raw wooden beams
of the floor and antique touches lend this place a sturdy, comfortable vibe. I
spot one of Finn’s coworkers polishing a glass behind the roughhewn bar as I
settle onto a metal barstool, but the man I’m really here to see is nowhere to
be found. Maybe he ran out for a cigarette or something?

“Usual?” the other bartender asks me. I’ve visited Finn here
so often that I’m becoming something of a regular.

“That would be great,” I reply, propping my elbows on the
bar.

The shaggy bearded barkeep pours me a Dark n’ Stormy and
slides it my way.

“I’ll add it to Finn’s tab,” he winks.

“Sounds good,” I reply, “Speaking of, do you know where he’s
gotten to? We were supposed to meet here at eight.”

The burly bartender cocks his head slightly, giving me a
peculiar look. A look that seems to say, “How much do you already know?” My
hearts clenches as he takes a long pause, weighing his words carefully.

“I’m sure you’ll see him in a minute,” the man says vaguely,
lumbering away from me. Before I can respond, he’s struck up a conversation
with an older woman at the other end of the bar. I take a long sip of my drink,
wondering what the hell that was all about. Between the bartender’s odd
response and Finn’s yet-to-be-revealed surprise, I’m feeling more than a little
bit on edge, here.

My phone chirps in my purse, telling me I’ve got a new text.
I hurry to snatch it up, not wanting to ruin the chill vibe in the bar. There’s
a photo glowing on my screen as I unlock my phone—a picture text from Sophie. I
glance down at the shot and see my two older sisters, all glammed up and posing
for the camera. They’re dressed to the nines in edgy, sexy dresses, with full
hair and makeup to boot, and Sophie’s wrist seems to be all healed up. I’m not
sure what’s more jarring—seeing them all glamified, or seeing them having a
good time together. Usually, Maddie and Sophie are at each other’s throats.

“
Ready to party!
” a
second text from Sophie reads, “
Wish you were
here, Bambi!
”

That’s right. Maddie’s company is throwing a big party for
some clothing line tonight. ReImaged, the marketing firm she works for,
specializes in that sort of thing. I don’t quite understand it, to be honest,
but she seems to enjoy it well enough. Sophie’s tagging along as Maddie’s guest
for this particular party, though I’m fuzzy as to why she agreed to go. Yuppies
and suits aren’t exactly Sophie’s scene. I didn’t get an invitation myself, but
that probably has something to do with the fact that my sisters think I’m back
in Vermont.

Whoops.

“
You guys look gorgeous
,”
I text her back, as the other bar patrons begin to clap.

I glance up and see that the bartender has stepped onto a
small platform at the back of the space that serves as a stage. There’s live
music here most nights, and it looks like tonight’s act is just about to take
the stage. I turn off my phone and give my attention to the makeshift emcee,
though I’m still wondering where the hell Finn is in the back of my mind.

“Hey everyone,” the bartender says, looking around at the
evening crowd, “Thanks for stopping by. We’ve got a great local act playing
tonight,” his eyes swing my way as he adds, “
Very
local, you might say.”

Another strange look? What, do I have something in my teeth
or something?

“So, here he is,” the bartender goes on, stepping aside,
“Our very own Finn Hawthorne!”

I’m too surprised to clap as Finn pushes aside the backstage
curtain and walks up onto the modest stage. His tall form is illuminated by a
soft spotlight, his strong jaw and defined muscles all the more striking as he
settles onto a stool and leans into the microphone. His ash blonde hair tumbles
across his forehead as he moves closer, looking out across the bar with a
half-smile on his sculpted face.

“Hey everybody,” he says, his voice richly amplified, “I’m
Finn. But most of you bar flies know that already.”

A chuckle goes up around the room, I look around and see
every single patron gazing up at Finn with warm, admiring eyes. His effortless
ease and unpretentious confidence are magnetic—I’ll be the first to vouch for
that. But there’s something about seeing him in this intimate setting, alone
onstage with an acoustic guitar and no theatrics,
that
renders him all the more striking. This is the first time I’ve seen him up on
stage without The Few. Finn’s presence is strong enough to cut through even the
most absurd of Blaine’s antics when the band plays together. But tonight, Finn
isn’t weighed down by any of that. And the effect is nothing short of
arrestingly powerful.

“Most of you know that I usually play with a band,” Finn
tells the crowd, channeling my thoughts exactly, “But tonight, I wanted to try
something a little different. I should have done this years ago, but the truth
is, I was a scared little kid when I first got to Portland. So that wasn’t
gonna work, was it?”

Another appreciative laugh goes up around the room, and my
breath catches as Finn finally swings his eyes my way.

“But the thing is, I met someone recently who’s not only
made me feel more like a man than ever, but more like the man I’ve always
wanted to be.”

I can feel the eyes of other patrons dart my way, hear
earnest whispers in the crowd wondering about who I am. But my eyes, ears, and
heart are all Finn’s in this moment. A smile blooms on his face as he holds my
gaze, and before long I’m grinning right back like the lovesick kid I really
am.

“So Anna,” he goes on, snapping the capo in place on his
guitar, “I put together this set for you. No, scratch that—I was
able
to
put this set together because of you. You’re amazing, baby. I hope you know
that. Oh, and…surprise, I guess.”

I let an exhilarated laugh escape my throat, as Finn takes a
breath and dives into his first song. The music that rings out from his guitar
is immediately familiar. It’s the same music he played for me in the pickup
truck, the morning after we first slept together. He told me then that he’d
never shown anyone his solo work before. That he’d been working on this for
years without letting anyone hear his efforts. Now, an entire crowd is
spellbound by his intricate, captivating sound. They’re finally hearing Finn
the way I know he’s always dreamed of.

And if I had any small part in helping that happen, like he
says I did… well, I’ll gladly be a part of something this inspired. I just hope
he knows, that he’s helped me every bit as much to feel like the best version
of myself. In the past, I always thought relationships like this were make-believe.
How could two people give and take in perfectly equal measure, support each
other while growing as individuals? But if there’s one thing Finn’s proven to
me, it’s that the most remarkable things can happen when you allow yourself to
simply stumble upon them.

The entire bar is listening with rapt attention by the end
of Finn’s solo set. The daring honesty of his performance is breathtaking–it’s
as if he’s letting the audience glimpse the contours of his very soul. This
ability to be so open and sure after facing so much pain is what made me fall
for Finn in the first place, and seeing him embrace that gift at long last is
almost too joyful for my heart to bear. As he winds down his last number, sets
down his guitar, and looks out across the crowd, it’s as though he’s turned a
room full of strangers into a collective of fellow travelers. It’s a phenomenon
I’ve never witnessed before.

Finn fixes his gaze on me, and I feel an electric jolt
course down my spine as our eyes lock across the dimly lit bar. His face is
perfection as it breaks into a warm, satisfied smile under the spotlight. When
he extends his strong hand, I know that it’s meant for me. Wordlessly, I rise
from my stool and make my way across the room, feeling as though I’m walking an
inch above the ground.

My pulse races as I step up to the stage and place my hand
in Finn’s. His fingers lace through mine and with a gentle tug he pulls me up
onto the platform to join him. Before I can say a word, he’s caught my face in
his strong hands and raised my lips to his. I’m vaguely aware of the wild
applause and cheering ringing out through the bar as Finn and I wrap our arms
around each other, but the riotous sound is drowned out by the beating of my
own heart.

When we finally break away, breathless and exhilarated, I’m
almost surprised to find that the rest of the crowd is still here. Glancing up
at Finn, I feel myself oscillating between delight and bashfulness. I’m used to
being behind the camera, not at the center of attention. But something tells me
that I’ll have to get used to being in the spotlight, if I’m going to stay at
Finn’s side. And god knows I have every intention of doing just that, if he’ll
have me.

“I’m guessing you could use another drink?” Finn murmurs in
my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Yeah. That would be a good place to start,” I reply, gazing
up at his vibrant eyes, “You were incredible tonight, Finn.”

“You think so, huh?” he grins, tucking a lock of hair behind
my ear, “Well if you thought that was incredible, just wait until I get you
backstage.”

“Got another surprise for me, Hawthorne?” I smile
breathlessly, feeling a fleet of butterflies go hog wild in my belly.

“Something like that,” he replies, helping me down off the
stage, “But I’m not gonna say another word about it. You just work yourself up
imagining it, instead.”

“You’re the worst,” I laugh deliriously, a thousand illicit
scenes scrolling through my mind’s eye.

“You love it,” he shoots back, as we make our way toward the
bar with our arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

“I love
you
,” I murmur, my voice barely above a
whisper. Finn stops dead in his tracks as my words reach his ears. Adrenaline
spikes through my blood and I feel my knees go weak as I realize what I’ve just
said.

“Th-that wasn’t supposed to be out loud,” I babble
nonsensically, feeling myself blush furiously as Finn and I stand in the middle
of the crowded bar. He stares down at me, speechless for the first time since
I’ve known him. Shit. He must think I’m just a stupid, lovesick little
schoolgirl after all. A silly fangirl who only likes him for his stage
presence.

“I’m sorry, that was…It’s just…” I sputter, shoving a hand
through my hair, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Is it true?” Finn finally says, his voice low and rasping.

His eyes are hard on my face as I gaze up at him, feeling as
though I’m the one in the spot light now. But as embarrassed as I am to have
let my profession of love come flying out of nowhere, I know that I can’t deny
the truth. Even if I could lie to Finn, I don’t want to. Even if it proves to
be fatal to our fast and loose romance, I have to tell him how I really feel.
He’s too important for half-truths.

“Yes,” I tell him, drawing myself up and meeting his eye,
“It’s true, Finn. Absolutely.”

“Well…” he replies, taking a step toward me, “Who’s the one
with the surprises now?”

“You can’t really be surprised,” I challenge, forcing myself
to breathe as he comes closer.

“No,” he murmurs, catching my hands in his, “No, I guess I’m
not. Because I’ve felt the same way for a while now.”

“Y-you have?” I breathe.

“Of course I have,” he says, a grin breaking across his
face, “I figured you already knew. But hell, if you want to go blurting things
out in front of everyone…”

“Shut up,” I laugh, giving him a playful shove.

He pulls me close against him, and it’s like we’re the only
two people in the world once more, let alone the bar.

“Just so we’re perfectly clear, then,” he says, as serious
as I’ve ever seen him, “I love you too, Anna. That’s what tonight was all
about.”

“Leave it to me to spell it out,” I laugh, “Guess I’m a
little too blunt for my own good.”

“You know what you feel. You know what you want,” Finn says,
admiringly.

“Yes. I do,” I reply, my voice dipping low as I press myself
to Finn’s broad, sturdy form.

“Easy, kid,” he grins, though he can’t hide the swell in his
jeans as our bodies meet, “Let me at least get you into the dressing room
before I get you out of those clothes.”

“I think your fans might want a piece of you first,” I
observe, looking around at all of the expectant faces sneaking peeks at me and
Finn. “Just save the lion’s share for me.”

Hands clasped, Finn and I turn to face the crowd. He’s beset
by admirers and fellow musicians, and soon we’re being showered with free
drinks and encouraging words. Finn’s the toast of The Bearded Bird tonight,
always humble and appreciative of the support rather than cocky, of course. I
can’t believe I get to be here for his first solo appearance, watch as he
accepts compliment after compliment and drink after drink. The crowd and
conversation go hazy as the night goes on, but Finn’s gleaming eyes shine like
a beacon all the while.