by J. D. Dexter
“I’m guessing that’s not what you wanted to hear,” I say quietly. Brent gives me wide eyes and a small shake of his head.
“No, that’s not what I wanted to hear. But I promised this guy,” jutting his thumb at Brent, “that I would listen to what you had to say. And try to follow your suggestions,” Brian answered.
“Well, other than listening, I’m not really sure I have any suggestions for you right now,” I tell them both.
“Yeah, but you know things, Finley. Things the rest of us don’t. You’ve always been able to see underneath what’s really going on, and I trust your instincts.” Brian leans towards me across the table. The earnestness on his face is difficult to see.
I hold myself really still.
Crap, crap, crap.
No one was supposed to notice…or if they did, they were just supposed to think I was weird. I’m good with people just thinking I’m weird. I don’t need them thinking I’m a freak. “I don’t know what you mean,” I proclaim, trying to look innocent.
“Don’t pull that crap with me, Finley Marie.” His eyes glint in the fluorescent lighting above us. “You know good and well what I’m talking about. We don’t talk about it because it obviously upsets you, but don’t think we haven’t noticed that you’re special,” he replies heatedly. Both of his hands are flat on the table, his fingers splayed wide. He looks like he’s trying to hold himself back from grabbing me and giving me a good shake.
“Thanks—I think—for calling me special. But, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try once again, barely breathing.
“Finley, I’m begging.” Brian’s low voice breaks my heart, especially with the slight sheen of tears in his eyes. And people think he’s this big brute of a guy. All fluff, this one. Which makes me as weak as wet cotton candy, I guess. The fear lurking in his eyes tugs at my heart.
“Fine!” Slumping back against the booth back, my arms crossed over my chest. “I’ll help you out as long as you don’t call me special with that saccharine tone. It makes me feel like I should be wearing a helmet, drool cup, and riding the short bus.”
I sulk for a bit knowing they’ll still give me crap about my being special. I’m just unable—and unwilling—to abandon any of these men when they ask for my help. I’m too picky about letting people into my life, for a variety of reasons, to let any of them think I don’t care about them.
“Wait.” A thought occurs to me. Flicking one finger at the three men surrounding me. “How did you even figure it out? I’ve been careful. Like Clark Kent careful,” I whisper shout at them.
Chuckling is the only answer I get. A trio of deep, masculine laughs fill the space of our booth. They all look at me like I’m an idiot.
“Please.” A pitying look. “Like we don’t know every one of your emotions, or how your face looks during those emotions?” Brian’s obviously the spokesperson for the group this round. Apparently, I get managed a lot by the men in my life. And to think I manage them most of the time. That’ll teach me to get on my high horse. I blow out a breath, rustling the hair near my forehead.
“Your blank face is actually more of a listening face,” Brent says, his laughter dissipating. “Do you remember when I first brought the managing partner to meet this rambunctious group? I had been with the firm for about three years, and Hank was tired of only getting to hear about my great cousin and said cousin’s best girl. He said he wanted to actually meet these people.”
“I can honestly say that Hank was really surprised by you. Enough that had it gone any farther on his end, I would’ve had to have a talk with him about it. You’re tall, built like a wet dream, have fascinating eyes, and the purest heart I’ve ever met in my entire life.” Brent’s own golden eyes twinkled.
“I think you’re either delusional or purposely mis-remembering.” Pretty sure he’s a little crazy—or buttering me up for something. “If I recall, I sacked him on the football field during a late spring game with all the cousins.” I chuckle, feeling Josh’s slightly twitching body letting me know he’s in the middle of remembering that episode too. I let the comment about my fascinating eyes pass. I’ve grown out of needing to feel protective or ashamed of being different, but I was bullied pretty harshly growing up. Leaves a girl with some insecurity complexes.
The boys have all said they love my eyes; to me, they’re just weirdly colored eyes. I have central heterochromia, meaning I have more than one color in my iris. My eye doctor says he’s never seen anything like them before in all his years of eye care. My right eye is a dark blue closest to the pupil, with a honey brown ring around the outside. My left eye has a gray ring against the pupil, encircled by green. Both eyes have tiny flecks of a whitish-silver color splashed around the irises. On good days I think they’re beautiful. On bad days, I remember all of the awful comments I got as a teenager.
“You stalked over to make sure I wasn’t trying to kill your boss. Josh told me that you had never looked so spooked in his life.” I smirk.
“I wasn’t worried you’d kill him, I was worried you would leave him with a bad impression of the family.” Brent sounds like a guilty witness.
“Ha. I’m the least of your extended family’s issues. I was part of the welcoming committee.”
“Indeed, you were, that day.” He smirks at me, giving me a slight nod of acknowledgement. “You made that day one of my happier memories, instead of making it one of the worst of my life since becoming a partner.” He catches my hand in his.
“But being a so-willing captive since he was captured under your delicious body.” I snort at his exaggerated wink. “He told me later that he noticed your stillness as you took him in.”
Josh’s snort fills the air.
“Not like that, gutter brain.” Brent punches at Josh. “Finley, I’ve met a lot of people in my life, and you are the only one who listens with her whole body. You seem to see something that no one else can. And then make decisions based on those visions that make no sense whatsoever in the moment but turn out to be the best option a little farther down the road,” he explains seriously.
“Hank mentioned it to me later; he was telling me how he wished he could get you to be a jury consultant for firm, how you could make sure that we won all of our cases. I told him that wouldn’t be happening. He brought it up again a couple months later when we had that awful case. I told him again, in no uncertain terms, that no one would be using you like that. He didn’t look like he was going to back down, so I threatened him.” I bring my startled gaze to meet his fired golden eyes.
Brent, while a laid-back guy like his brother, is a little more ready to barrel into skirmishes. He doesn’t typically threaten people though. Right now, he’s a little stiff and looks like he’s bracing for a huge fight.
I’m shocked by his reaction, and I lose the hold I keep on the Spectrum, my vision exploding with color. Looking at him awash in colors, I realize he’s scared of my reaction. Both he and Brian are; their reactions leave me a little stunned.
Blinking away the colors of the rainbow, I get up from my side of the booth, trying hard to keep my own face smooth. I take the two steps to reach their side of the table. Brian turns to face me, his eyes ready to be rejected, braced for the hurt that he thinks is coming.
Brian was never the most popular guy in school. He was super tall, but didn’t fill in his muscles until his senior year. He got called a lot of names and picked on quite a bit by the popular guys who were jealous of his height. You would think being six foot eight would be a good thing for a guy. And it probably would have been—had he been even remotely interested in sports. Instead he was always in Shop Class making intricate and delicate things with his hands. It’s one of the reasons he’s so good in construction and being a master craftsman.
His first instinct is to guard against rejection. It breaks my heart every time I see that guarded reaction towards me. I’m just glad it doesn’t happen too often.
I lean down, lay my hands gently on his
hewn cheeks, and with my eyes steady on his, I place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You’re both mine for life, guys. No getting away from me now. Demons don’t even stand a chance of ripping either of you away from me.” I whisper into the space between us, our foreheads resting against each other. These three men are the brothers of my heart, and I would do anything to help them. I stretch my arm out, pulling Brent in and kissing his forehead softly as well. Brent slumps back into his seat, a look of relief on his face.
Brian’s arms wrap around my body like steel cables, pulling me into his lap, with his face pressed into space between my neck and shoulder. I rub his giant back in soothing circles, feeling his chest shudder with each breath he takes.
“Told you she wouldn’t care, guys,” Josh says from our side of the booth, “She loves you idiots.”
“Too right I do. And why would you think I would mind you having my back like that?” I ask, a little confused by the severity of his reaction.
I barely get my chin out of the way of his head whipping back.
“What?” All three men are genuinely shocked, looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.
“What, what?” I parrot them.
“Fin, you used to bite our heads off, not to mention the various unmentionable things you threatened to do to other parts of our bodies when we tried to protect you,” Josh splutters, his eyes wide.
I wave that away with a brush of my hand. “Well, that was when we were little, and you jerks were trying to keep me from having fun. This was – is – different.” I lean forward and hug Brian one more time before getting up and sitting back on my side of the booth.
“Yeah, trying to keep you from leaping from the top of the treehouse, how silly we were.” Brian’s sarcasm could fill the whole room.
“Exactly!” I agree with a nod of my head. “I would have been fine.”
“Uh huh. Just like the way you were fine when we found you at the bottom of the cement stairs after trying to skateboard down a rail?” The sarcasm level in Josh’s voice is getting high. I might need some galoshes if they’re not careful.
Who am I kidding? We use sarcasm like other people use toilet paper: more than is needed, just to be safe.
“Well, I would have been fine. If you wouldn’t have picked me up and rushed me to your dad’s, Brian.” Now or never, I think to myself. “I was in the middle of healing myself already. Being taken to the hospital made me have to heal like a normal person, it took for freaking ever!” Thinking back on that time, I wince with the remembered days of pain and waiting for my body to heal like someone who isn’t special. Man, I hate that word.
Silence.
I tap my fingers on the scarred table, watching the emotions and thoughts flit across three beloved faces.
Brent’s the first to break his astonished silence. “What do you mean, you were already healing yourself?” His whisper shout is in an octave I’ve never heard from him before. I never would have thought his big body could produce such a high-pitched sound.
I look around carefully, making sure no one is paying attention too closely. “Just what I said. I’ve been healing myself for about fifteen years now. While I don’t actively heal my patients, I do use the Spectrum—which is what I call the ability to see pain, dysfunction, distress, and other issues—to see where their specific issues are and how to go about fixing them in the most efficient way possible.” I wouldn’t say I’m scared by their reactions, but I’ve never admitted this to anyone else.
Heck, I barely admitted it to myself until a couple months after I opened my clinic.
“Holy crap, Finley.” Brent breathes shakily, his eyes intently surveying our immediate surroundings, looking for Eavesdropper Evans. “If anyone found out about that, you would be in some serious trouble. Or worse, kidnapped and experimented on.”
I stifle a snort. “Agent Clark is not looking for me, Brent. But I appreciate that I need to be careful.” I pat his hand. Smiling at the idea that a secret government agency would be interested in me. Although, if they could hook me up with Thor, I would have to seriously rethink my choices.
“You need to stop taking this so lightly, Finley Marie.” Brian’s anger is a little fiercer than I had planned on.
“Wow, two ‘Finley Marie’s in one conversation. I must be in trouble.” I smile back at him, trying to get him to relax.
“Your safety and well-being are not joking matters to me, girlfriend.” His words are muffled by his clenched teeth.
“Seconded.” Josh joins in, lifting his hand like he’s at one of his interminable board meetings.
Leaning forward, I can feel my temper spiking. “I take my well-being very seriously. And my safety is something I’ve been handing for years. I’ve been healing myself from a variety of issues for a very long time, guys. I don’t appreciate your diminishing my abilities to care for myself.” I’m more than a little offended by their attitudes.
I would never do something that would hurt my mom or dad like that. They struggled so much to have a baby, that by the time I came along, they had just about given up. I wouldn’t ruin their happiness for anything in the world. Besides these guys, my parents are the most important people in my life.
“There’s the ferocity we’ve come to know and fear,” Josh says, resting his warm hand on my arm. “Had we known you were imminently more capable than the Western Medical Complex, we would’ve been less worried. You’re the one who decided not to share that secret with us, not the other way around. So get off your high horse, Fin.” He squeezes my arm a little at the end of his speech.
I growl at all of them, knowing they’re right and I need to cool off. I take a couple of deep breaths, the still air of the bar coating my throat like oil. I cough a couple of times. Nodding my head at them all, their expressions relax.
“Sorry to have gotten us so far off topic,” I ask, trying to shift the focus off me. “But what did you want me to do about your dad, Bri?”
I hate being the center of attention.
Brian’s still sitting there like a statue. I give him a little nudge under the table with my foot.
“Bri?” I ask, waving my hand in front of his vacant face.
And they laugh at me for going blank during conversation.
He shakes himself, blinks a couple of times, and brings his awareness back to the dingy room with the flashing neon beer signs.
“Sorry. What? What did you say?” he asks.
“What do you think I can do about your dad?” I repeat.
“Well, first, I want to know if he’s telling the truth. How we proceed is determined on if he’s lying or not,” he states firmly.
“Okay, I can do that.” I try not to let my smile engulf my whole face. I’ve known if people were lying for years now. I try to look innocent, hoping they won’t catch on.
I’m not very good at hiding my emotions.
Josh’s hand smacks the table like a cymbal crash. “I knew it! I knew you were cheating!” His face dark and pinched.
“Whatever do you mean, Joshua mine? How dare you think I would ever cheat? I’m offended by the very idea,” I retort piously, trying to get my nose higher into the air.
“Wait a second.” Brent glares at me like he’s thinking really hard about some complex math problem.
“Dang it, Fin!” He sticks a rigid finger in my face. Apparently, he’s on the Hate-Finley bandwagon. “You’re going to owe me huge…as soon as I figure out how to collect.” He simmers for a beat. “Huge.” His finger is still wagging in my face.
“What? What are you guys talking about?” Brian’s bewildered voice fills the void, he’s looking between the two other men while I attempt to look angelic.
“Think about it, Bri. She knows when people are lying.” Brent encourages his brother. Brian still looks lost and getting annoyed at being left out.
Brent’s face shows he’s moved past outraged and is now filled with reluctant humor.
Whew, here’s hoping he doesn’t intend to cash i
n on that threat. I’m not sure I have enough money for that…maybe he would let me do it in installments? I’ll have to ask him later.
“Don’t you freaking let her off the hook that easily, Brent. Don’t you dare.” Josh’s smile engulfing his face before he collapses into fits of suppressed laughter. He’s never been able to stay mad at me for long.
Thank goodness.
Brian’s brows are scrunched in thought, his fingers tapping out a restless rhythm on the table. Brent and Josh are swept up into gales of laughter, waiting for Brian to catch on. Brian’s going to be the one to get seriously pissed if he doesn’t make it to laughter soon. He’s really big on honesty in all things, even in the little things.
The confusion vanishes and is replaced by the thunderclouds sweeping across his face. His cheeks take on a ruddy hue, and his nostrils flare like a horse’s after a fast run.
“You wouldn’t dare, Finley. You wouldn’t have dared.” His voice is shaking as fast as the finger he has in my face. “I can’t believe you’ve been cheating at poker all of these years!” Brian yells. His bellow drawing the attention of other patrons. I duck my head just a little, trying to diffuse the situation.
My halo is broken in his eyes. And I can only laugh. He looks so lost and disgusted.
“I never meant to do it—well, until I was in high school and you guys really annoyed me,” I reply, a laugh caught in my throat. “It just sort of happened one day when we were playing, and then I got really good at spotting the tells. So, really, since all three of you need that skill now, I would think you could be a little more understanding about it all. It was so long in the past, it’s hardly worth mentioning.” I brush off the concern.
Deep in his eyes, I see his humor pierce the veil of thunderous outrage. I breathe a little easier knowing the storm is passing.
“Honestly, the only times I cheated were the times you guys made my life super difficult,” I explain. “Besides, playing poker with you three helped me hone my abilities, so I really should be thanking you for being such crappy poker players.”