“You’re not too bad, Finley Sinclair.”I couldn’t have looked away from this boy if the room had caught on fire. “You’re okay yourself. At times.”“But we can’t get involved.”“No.” I swallowed. “Definitely not.”His face lowered a fraction of an inch. “Because I’m infamously bad.”“And I’m staying away from trouble.”His voice was rough, husky. “It would never work.” I took a step closer. “Impossible.”He traced my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “We don’t even like each other." “I pretty much can’t stand you.”And then his lips crushed to mine.”

“- We don't even like each other.- I pretty much can't stand you.And then his lips crushed to mine.”

“When I look at you, I still see the son I love more than my own life. But I also see a man who has become so far removed from what matters that his perception is skewed. Family is real, son. A home to settle into—that’s real. People who love you and care about you. You’ve had a phenomenal career, and I’m proud of you. But it’s time to stop basing your worth on championships and endorsement deals. You can’t buy happiness. You can’t earn it. God isn’t counting all the deals you’re racking up—and neither is your family.” He lifted his brow. “And neither is Lucy. For the first time someone’s looking at the person inside—and you have to decide if you’re going to let her in and be the man she needs you to be.” His father turned his head toward a family picture on the mantel. “It’s a risk. But one I’ve never regretted.”

“And as for girls who try to stay away from me—my charm always wears them down.”“I’m up-to-date on my shots, so I’m pretty much immune to everything.”

“Do you have something to surrender today? Do you need God to meet you in the fire like he did those three men? Because sometimes you have to step out on faith into something that’s gonna scare you so bad, your hair’s gonna stand and you’re gonna be crying for your mama before God pulls you through the other side.”

“Finley, would you get Beckett something to drink, please?” Beckett caught my less-than-pleasant expression.“Water will be fine. Not too much ice. Add a slice of lemon.” He reached for my hand and electric currents blazed up my arm. “And don’t spit in it.”“That’s a lot to remember. You’ll understand if I forget at least one of those commands.”

“What is it you want, Finley Sinclair?"Some peace. Some healing. To hear God's voice again.I wanted to find my brother's Ireland. To put it into song.And I wanted my heart back."I'll know it when I find it." I looked past Beckett and into the night sky. "Or when it finds me.”