“The beach…” Finn puts the fork down, the significance of that beach looming larger than the breakfast. He’d been too little to go on those trips, and too little to remember that he’d cried the whole time the one time he did (although his brothers had told him that story more than once).

“That was kinda your thing though…yours and Jermaine’s. And dad’s.”

If Finn had ever been upset by being left out of those trips (even if it was really just his own fear), the feelings had mostly been soothed by the time he would get to spend with their mom. She would always make sure to spend a special afternoon with him while dad and his brothers were away. They would bake and she would let him mix batter or add chocolate chips. Or they’d go for an ‘adventure walk’ in the nearby forest, and she would hold his hand and tell him about the things that they saw or watch him look under rocks for bugs and treasure.

But still, he’d always kind of wanted to go.