by J. D. Dexter
I burst out laughing. My mom is one of my superheroes.
Gloves and a flashlight.
The boys are all struggling to cover their smiles, a few poorly concealed coughs letting me know everyone heard her. I shrug it off. I’m not worried about being embarrassed by being loved by my family.
I wrap my hand around her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She reaches up to pat my hand, resting her cheek against my hand.
“Now that that’s been taken care of,” the humor still lingering in his voice, “we need to discuss contingencies, because Hunter found out that other government agents have been snooping around Finley’s case.” Nodding his head, Brent indicates Hunter should share his portion of the story.
“Directly after the meeting with DHS, I removed the hardware from Finley. I was going to make of note of what time I did so in her chart. Only her chart had been deleted from our system and our servers. Agent Richardson had indicated that she would be covering Finley at DHS, so I wanted to make sure it was actually her. On a closer search, I found that Finley’s file had been copied, using a nurse’s code, just before it had been wiped.”
Mom’s gasp is drowned out by Dad’s curse.
“I found the nurse and asked what happened to the file, making sure to make it look like I was searching for it. She said that an Agent Scarsman from the KC FBI field office had a duly executed warrant for a copy of the file. I didn’t react in any way, just nodded, and came back to tell Mr. Hastings—Brent—and Finley.”
“So, we now have two agencies who know about Finley. We have no idea who Agent Scarsman is, but we do know Agent Whittier is currently under investigation at DHS. Richardson explained, after asking Finley to read Whittier, and Finley sharing her findings, that Whittier is suspected of possibly working with unknown individuals within DHS to kill 23ers under his, or rather DHS’s, command.” That statement hit like a bomb.
Madness reigns in the room.
Brian’s mumblings are indistinguishable, except for a few choice words. He must be on the far side of furious for him to busting out the f-bomb multiple times in the last couple of days. I hope he can get back to my lovable giant teddy bear soon.
Mom looks like she agrees with whatever he’s saying under his breath. She even nods a couple of times. I’m pretty sure my mom wouldn’t curse if her life depended on it, so for her to be agreeing with Brian’s word choices means she’s past furious and pretty well into enraged.
The force of the glare Dad’s giving off is going to eat through the floor under his feet.
Josh looks like he had been slapped in the face. When he turns to face me, the look on his face makes my heart hurt.
A light tapping on my hand lets me know that I’m clenching around Hunter’s hand pretty tightly. I make a conscious effort to relax my hand. Hunter gives me a wink.
Josh gets up from his spot across the room, weaves through the various chairs and family members before moving to my side of the bed. Lifting me up, he curls himself around me, setting me in his lap. I keep Hunter’s hand in mine.
“I’ll give her back in a second,” Josh mumbles against my hair, obviously talking to Hunter.
“Take your time, you had her first.” Hunter tightens his fingers around mine. I love him just a little for taking care of my best friend like this.
I huddle into Josh’s arms, one of my favorite places to be. Just letting him hold me seems to soothe him a little. He slowly relaxes, his breathing going back to normal, his chest no longer shaking under my cheek.
“Better?” I ask Josh quietly.
“Not all the way, but enough to let you go…for now,” he says into my hair. Right before he kisses me just above my ear.
Nodding my head, he lifts me, setting me a little in front of him as he leans back against the upright bed. He claps Hunter on the shoulder, a man-acknowledgement of something. Hunter just nods at him.
“Finley. What do you think?” Brian asks.
Crap, I haven’t been listening. He hates when I do this. I hear Josh chuckle behind me.
“What do you think, Brian?” I ask, hoping he buys it.
Brian sighs hugely.
Fail.
“Checked out again, huh?”
“Hey, I was comforting my best friend. I don’t have the capacity to listen and cuddle at the same time right now,” I say haughtily. Right before I dissolve into laughter at Brian’s look of fake outrage.
“If you’re not going to listen, then I want cuddles too.” He stretches out his arms to me.
“You already got your cuddles, mister. You can have them after you tell me what you were talking about.” I shake my finger at him.
I’m relieved when I hear Hunter laugh under his breath beside me.
“A bit harsh on the cuddle crushing, huh?” Hunter asks quietly.
“Get ready to have your masculinity tested frequently, my man,” Josh says from behind me.
I turn to Josh and glare at them both, narrowing my eyes as they both laugh right in my face.
“Finley Marie.” Brent this time.
“Yes, Brenton. I’m listening this time,” I say, not taking my eyes off of Hunter and Josh.
“Finley Marie, you are not listening. I just asked you another question. Stop making googly eyes at Hunter and pay attention,” he grumps.
I whip around, adding him to my glare recipients. “I’m not scared of your glares, missy.” He shakes his finger at me.
“I hate when you call me missy, old man,” I bark, a twinkle in my eyes. He’s a couple years younger than I am, but he’s always had an old soul. I really do hate being called missy. One of Dad’s doctor friends always called me that. He was creepy. I shake it off.
Me and Taylor Swift.
“Sorry, Finley.” He gives me a sad smile, probably feeling bad about bringing the old pervert to my mind. “But we are trying to discuss your well-being right now. The least you can do is pay attention to the discussion.”
“Now I’m sorry.” He’s right. Everyone is here at butt-crack o’thirty for me; I need to pay better attention.
“Mark suggested that you continue with your life as if it’s unchanged. Changing too much right after all of this could lead to more scrutiny. If you could get a security system inside your clinic, that would help all of us feel better,” Brent says, getting me up to speed with what’s going on. “That won’t be a huge change, nor will be out in the open really.”
“Your mom and I will pay for that. That way we can be able to log on and see the feeds if necessary,” Dad adds.
“Okay, I have no problem with that. I’ll have to post a notice for my patients. Will you help me draft that, Brent?” I ask him.
He nods his head. I disengage from Josh and Hunter, looking for my purse to get my phone.
I find it resting on the table across the room, close to where Brent is holding court. I make it to my purse, reaching in to where I usually keep my phone stored. This reminds me of finding Cynthia crouched over my purse, which feels like eons ago. Here’s hoping no one shoots me this time.
I’m a creature of habit, otherwise I end up losing stuff. This is the ninth phone I’ve owned because I keep losing them.
I can’t find my phone, so one of the boys, or mom, moved it. I upend the purse onto the tabletop. Everything crashes out, startling me with the sudden noise. I smother a chuckle under my breath as I jump. No luck finding it. I empty out all of the side pockets, my breath starting to heave in and out.
Crap, crap, crap.
“Um guys, we have another problem. My phone’s gone.” I announce to the room.
Chapter Fourteen
“No, it’s not. I got it earlier because I needed a number from it.” Brent speaks up from across the room. He holds up the phone while he’s still looking at his own.
I feel my stomach settle again. “Oh, thank goodness. I was watching horror stories of Whittier having it in his possession run through my mind.” I walk over to him, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Th
anks. I need to make some notes.”
Making my way back over to Josh and Hunter, I resettle myself at the foot of the bed. I make a reminder list, adding to it all the different things I’ve thought of after being stuck here for the last few of days. Assassins and government agents notwithstanding.
I wish I had more than grocery pickup and dentist appointments to worry about, but my life is pretty staid. Torturing my patients is the highlight of most of my days.
“Are you coming back in, Josh? I still need to get the rest of the triggers out of your DHRs” I ask without looking up.
Hunter’s snort has me looking up quickly. I catch the end of a pained look on Josh’s face before it melts into an angelic smile.
“The what out of his what?” Hunter chuckles.
“Sorry. The trigger points out of his deep hip rotators.” I wink at him
“Of course, Master Finley. I eagerly await your punishment.” Josh holds his hands in prayer before him, bowing his head over them.
“Just for that, I’m not going to ice you down when I’m done.”
“Aw, come on, Fin. I was just kidding. Please give me ice. Ice, ice, baby.” He bumps his shoulders along to his really poor rendition of the opening line of the old rap song.
“Nope. You’ll just whine about the ice too.” I stick my tongue out at him. I see Hunter’s smile out of the corner of my eye.
“You should go get worked over, Hunter. I guarantee you won’t enjoy it,” Josh says happily. He slaps Hunter good-naturedly on his shoulder.
Hunter grunts an uneasy laugh, clearly not sure whose side he should take. His eyes dart between Josh and me. I wink at him again.
“Sure. Let me repay the favor of healing.” I suggest to Hunter. “Don’t listen to Whiney Wendy here,” I jerk my thumb in Josh’s direction, “he’s just sad I call his masculinity into question every time he gets on my table.”
“Yeah, questioning masculinity is definitely the way to get him on your table, Finley.” Josh laughs.
“Just yours, Joshua-mine. I don’t make fun of Bri or Brent when they come to see me. They actually do what I tell them to in order to feel better.” I accuse him.
Shaking his head, Josh looks at Hunter, “Only word of caution: never call the table a bed. She gets positively violent when she hears that.”
Hunter’s eyes widen at the advice.
“Why?” he asks me.
“Because I don’t ‘do clients on my bed.’” I raise my hands to make the air quotes. “I deal with enough sexual harassment as a massage therapist, I do not need to encourage any of the stereotypes that come along with it.” I take a deep breath to keep from getting too riled up about the whole topic.
It’s one of my pet peeves. With the abundance of rape culture and sex trafficking in massage therapy as a whole, I always make it very clear to my clients that there is no room for that kind of behavior in my practice.
“I’m sure you do. And no, you don’t need to encourage any of that.” Hunter shakes his head, a look of disgust on his face.
“No worries, she knows how to dissuade such behavior.” Josh puts his closed fist up for me to bump. I tap my fist to his.
“Oh yeah?” Hunter asks, his eyebrows raised high, interest lighting his dark eyes.
“Yeah.” I nod, flexing my biceps at him. He leans forward and squeezes the muscle.
“Mmhmm.” His smile makes parts of me sit up and take notice. Parts that should not be making themselves known with my family, especially my mom and dad, in the same room.
In an effort to quiet those places, I turn, realizing I haven’t heard anything from the rest of the room behind me. Mom and Dad are both on their phones out in the hallway. Brian and Mark are on their phones, too, in different parts of the room so they can hear their respective conversations. Brent is working on his phone, his brow scrunched in concentration.
“Got it done, Finley.” Brent taps a few more buttons. “Look at that and tell me what you think.”
I feel my phone buzz in my hand. I open it up and read the notice of new surveillance equipment for my clinic.
“Works for me, Brent. Thanks. I’ll get it printed up and posted. Do I need to worry about releases of information? Anything legal if the footage gets subpoenaed?” I ask him while making more notes in my phone.
“No, I don’t think so. But I’ll check with a colleague just to make sure though.” He makes a note on his tablet.
“Okay.” I make another note to check with him about it later.
Hunter gets up from the bed, lays his hand on my shoulder, and nods at Josh. “Well, I need to go do my rounds, since I’m still here. Give Dr. Singh a break.” Making his way out to the hall, he passes Mom and Dad as they come back in. He says something to Dad, and Dad nods his head agreement, a slight smile on his face.
Mom comes over to me, kissing my forehead. She sighs and sits down next to me on the bed.
“I don’t remember these beds being quite so uncomfortable.” She pokes at the thin mattress, a look of disgust on her face.
“My hips and back are killing me. I’m going to have to go see Dr. Kari just to get back into fighting shape,” I tell her. I try rubbing at my lower back, but know I won’t get anything fixed until I have more than a couple of minutes to focus on it.
“Well, you should make that call before you leave here later today.”
“I will.” I make the note in my phone.
Brian clears his throat, drawing all of our attention. “Well, I can’t do too much more until the sun actually rises. Not many of my contacts would be too happy to take my call at three in the morning.” His usually animated face shows his fatigue, his eyes are dull and the skin surrounding them is tight.
This is apparently the signal everyone else has been waiting for because they all get up from their various perches around the room, getting their stuff around to leave again. I stand next to the door, giving hugs and kisses as each of my family files out of the room.
As my dad brings up the end of the line, he leans down to kiss my head. His voice shaking, he says, “I love you so much, nugget. I’m so thankful you have forgiven me and your mother.”
“It was a shock, dad. I’ll give you that. But I understand why you wouldn’t tell me or felt like it got too big at some point to make telling me easy. I’m just thankful that you told me.” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “I love you both, too. So much.”
“Your Dr. Jamison seems like a good man. Don’t be too judgmental.” He pulls back to look me in the eye.
“What do you mean judgmental?” I’m a little shocked. I’ve never been told I’m judgmental and hearing it for the first time from my dad stops me in my tracks.
His smile is a little sad. “He’s not one of ‘your boys,’ so you need to give him some space to be himself. You can judge your potential young men too harshly in the beginning. I fear that you have let some excellent men leave your life too soon because they don’t measure up to the Hastings men. I just want you to be happy,” he tells me solemnly, giving serious eye contact.
I’m really astonished. I never thought dad cared too much about my various boyfriends over the years. It never seemed like he had an opinion one way or another. Mom was always the one with the vocal opinions on my chosen guys.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Dad.” I lean forward, kissing his leathery cheek one last time before he walks out and heads down the hall.
Chapter Fifteen
I awaken to the bright light of sunshine on my face. I’m not really a morning person—my bedroom at home has blackout shades on all of the windows. But I have to admit waking up to a normal sunrise instead of a gun in my face or federal agents is something I doubt I’ll take for granted ever again. Not saying I want to get rid of my blackout shades, but I’ll certainly be thankful for normal from now on.
“Paging Dr. Jamison. Paging Dr. Jamison. Please report to the nurse’s station.”
I can picture him rushing around, his whi
te coat flapping behind him as his brow wrinkles at something he’s seeing on his tablet. His startling white hair standing up in all different directions, his dark chocolate eyes keen as he talks with and treats patients.
I never thought I would meet such a handsome guy in the hospital. The last time I went on a date, it was with one of Brian’s construction friends. I would rather be single.
Thinking back to what my dad said, I can honestly say that I was expecting the guys I was dating to not measure up to my boys. They’ve helped me decide, refine, and set really high standards for the next man I want in my life. While I’ve never dated one of my boys—never even thought about it—they have taught me what to look for in a boyfriend. And as much crap as I give Josh about being a whiner about pain, I know that he—and all the boys—are alpha males in their own rights. They help me be strong without knocking me down. My successes do not diminish their own. We support each other, always.
“Knock, knock.” I roll over to look at the door from where I’m lying on my side, watching the birds flying in the sunshine. Hunter’s standing at the edge of my room.
I smile when I see his hair looks exactly as I imagined it: sticking straight up off of his head. His brows knit, but he’s looking at me instead of any patient charts or a tablet.
“Come in, come in. Do I get to get out of here today?” I sit up, wrapping the blanket around my hips.
“Well, considering you have absolutely no injuries, and staying here seems to be bad for your health, we’re discharging you.” He nods. “You also have no protocols to worry about, because you have no injuries, so there’s that good news.”
“So, I’m all good to go?” I ask again, the news it almost too good to be true. Even knowing I have no medical reason to stay, it feels like the hospital has been the setting of an unending nightmare.
“Yup. You have to sign the final papers for insurance stuff, but you’re good to go.” He clears his throat, shuffles his feet a little—something I’ve never seen him do. I watch him swallow a couple of times. “Once you walk out of here, I won’t be your doctor anymore. And…” He clears his throat. “I wanted to know if I could ask you out on a date? Outside of the hospital, in real clothes, with no guns and no Jell-o.” He smiles the last, a touch of hesitation on his handsome face.