Page 12 of Burden of Proof

“Where are you at?” Finn asked, slamming his elbow into my ribs.

“Right here,” I said, automatically.

“Physically,” Marshall said, brow raised.

“We were literally just talking about you and Silas. I’ve been listening the whole time.”

Smith made an amused sound in the back of his throat and, to my left, Finn groaned.

“Since then we’ve talked about Smith still debating taking his mom’s maiden name and quitting his job.”

“You want to what?” I said, eyes going wide.

Smith shrugged. “We talked about it in passing but nothing seriously.”

“Are you thinking about it seriously now?” I asked.

Another shrug.

“The point is,” Finn interrupted, finishing his drink, “we weren’t talking about Marshall.”

“I’mrighthere,” I repeated.

“Thinking about?” Marshall prompted.

I slid my glass around the table, shifting the ice so it clinked and settled. “Nothing important,” I lied, clearing my throat. “But I did want to see if the three of you were up for a little road trip soon.”

“To San Diego?” Marshall asked.

I nodded.

Finn sank back against the corner of the booth, mouth tipped down into frown that made the family resemblance achingly clear. I steepled my fingers together and covered half my face, exhaling into my hands and staring at the leather gap between Marshall and Smith’s shoulders.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, climbing out of the booth and heading for the restroom.

I’d never wished for private bathrooms more than when Finn’s shoulder stopped me from latching the stall door. He flung his body weight against it, and we both tumbled backward, and I narrowly avoided my entire forearm landing in the bowl.

“What the fuck?” I shoved him off of me, and then we both fell out of the stall and into the bathroom. Finn’s hip landed against the sink, and he cursed under his breath, rubbing his hip with his eyes screwed shut.

“What is going on with you?” Finn asked, shaking off the pain long enough to point an accusatory finger at the middle of my chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not yourself.”

I sighed. “Nothing is wrong that won’t shake out.”

I needed that to be the truth. I had to believe that, eventually, everything was going to settle, and I would feel normal again.

“Do you have an STI or something?” Finn asked next, cocking his head to the side.

“Why would I…what?”

“You told me you met some dude in a hotel room for sex,” he said.

My mouth was immediately as dry as the Sahara Desert. I’d told him that, but I didn’t think there was any way he’d believed it. He had to have thought I was lying the day I told him that, because if he for any second believed that to be true, he would have called me out on it immediately.

“Did you really believe that?” I asked.