Page 14 of The Dangers of Daydreaming (Love Connections #2)

Lucy Joins the FBI

Lucy

I hit send on the second to last email I needed to complete today at the exact moment Finn walked into the waiting room.

The surgery had gone longer than expected—a little over three hours, but once done, the doctors said everything went perfectly.

I had excused myself so Finn and Gram could visit with Finn’s grandpa.

But something about how Finn was walking now made me worry that maybe it hadn’t gone as well as the doctors had said. I stood, tucking away my phone and slinging my purse over my shoulder.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s… he’s doing fine.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. Did that mean he didn’t want to talk about it? Or was it just a sign that he wasn’t feeling completely settled after such a big surgery?

Or maybe he was just putting his hands in his pockets. Why did I need to read so much into it?

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Are… you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.” It didn’t sound too convincing. “You ready to go?”

I nodded. I was tired. Not anywhere near as tired as Finn and his grandma must be, but I had tried my best to keep their minds distracted during the surgery, and now that he was in the clear, my relief for their family was tangible and left exhaustion in its wake.

I felt a little like I’d been doing mental gymnastics for the last several hours.

I had enjoyed myself too. Finn had clearly gotten his teasing from his grandma, and she was a hoot to be around, even with the heaviness of the situation. But still… tired.

I followed him to the front doors and out into the parking lot.

The sky was full of colors, indicating sunset was close.

There was a hint of salt to the air, in the way there was a hint of moisture before rain.

It made things feel so much fresher, and after only a few days of being here, it was hard to imagine going back to the world that wasn’t only ever an hour or two from the coast.

Finn was quiet. And though I wouldn’t pretend to know him extremely well, it didn’t sit right.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, glancing at him.

He paused, lifting his hand a little to stop me as a car passed in front of us.

When we started walking again, he said, “I guess I’m just still a little worried.

Maybe it’s residual and will go away… like the air pressure light in a car.

Sometimes it takes a minute to turn off after you fix the tires. ”

That made me smile. We were comparing feelings to tires? “So, you just need a minute?”

The van’s taillights flashed as he pressed the key fob, unlocking the doors.

I rounded the back and was surprised when Finn followed me, opening my door.

There was a little humor in his eyes, as if he were remembering our conversation about chivalry.

I was happy to see it. Maybe his tire light was turning off already.

He didn’t close the door right away when I got in, his eyes growing distant.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell if I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, or if I’m just worried about how this will change things.”

“Change things? Are they worried about his recovery?”

Finn pushed out a breath; he seemed frustrated with himself as he shook his head. “No, but my Gram mentioned closing the B&B.” His hand constri cted on the side of the door, so even though his words were said almost offhand, I could tell this was a big deal.

“Oh.” I rubbed the heel of my hand down my thigh to my knee. “I don’t mean to pry, but is that a problem?”

His throat worked in a swallow. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be, but it is.” He closed the door, and I figured that was the end of the conversation, even though I had tons of questions.

I said nothing when he got in and turned the car on. I’d been pulling information out of him that he didn’t seem to want to give, so I just stayed quiet this time.

A minute or two passed. The radio was on from our drive here, but wasn’t loud.

More like elevator music—not enough to fill the silence.

I felt terrible. For Finn and his grandparents.

For pushing as much as I had. For wanting to know more but not knowing how to ask.

I stretched my neck to the side and glanced out the passenger window for something to do.

“It’s just that this is how it's always been, and it’s been going great. I don’t see the need to change things.”

I nodded, but really I was shocked he’d spoken. “You really love what you do.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I like it.”

That was a lackluster response.

Alright, I needed to decide now. Was I diving all in to my stint as a detective in search of Finn’s real feelings?

Or, more importantly, was I just being morbidly curious for myself or to help him?

He didn’t deserve a passing acquaintance digging into his personal life just because he was unlucky enough to have me along when he went to see his grandparents.

It wasn’t fair to push if I wasn’t going to help.

Yeah, I didn’t need to know. I had an inkling that whatever he wasn’t saying right now was more than I was prepared to take on.

But one g lance at his face, at how his jaw was tense and his hands tight on the wheel, shifted my perspective. This wasn’t about me, I could get over my discomfort for a second and try to help.

So, I hiked my left leg up a little and turned in my seat to watch his reactions more closely. He shot a curious glance at me but said nothing.

“Like. You said you like your job. Why are you worried about it changing if you don't love it?”

“I don’t think I like how you’re looking at me.”

“Too bad, I’m locked in now. And you’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I just said a word, and you’re digging in like I’m a cold case and you’re itching to prove yourself at the FBI or something.”

How kind of him to notice my skills for what they were.

I once found out where my friend’s ex lived, so I could think about egging his house.

Shelly didn’t deserve the jerky way he’d treated her.

In the end, I hadn’t been brave enough to do it.

But I stared daggers at that little address on Google Earth for days.

I digress.

“Words matter, and you corrected me when I said you loved your job. Do you?”

He sighed, but gave in as all perps would under a good detective. “I like it.” He shot me a look. “Yes, like. I don’t plan on being a tour guide for the rest of my life, but it’s a good job, and I’m good at it.”

I nodded along. “Okay. So, what else would you do if you weren’t a tour guide anymore?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ll figure that out when I need to.”

I hesitated before saying what I was thinking. “But you might need to now.”

There. He winced. So that was the problem. “You don’t like being forced into figuring it out right now?”

His jaw flexed, and I was sure he was about to shut me down. “You're pretty good at this, you know?”

I leaned the side of my head against the headrest. “Are you deflecting again?”

“Yep. Kill a guy for not enjoying the third degree.”

So maybe I’d come on a bit strong. I was a little out of practice with these kinds of conversations. “Well, if you do decide you want to stop avoiding answering, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Luce.”

“Nicknames now?”

He lifted a shoulder, glancing in his rearview as he changed lanes. “I don’t know, do you have one for me? Besides menace .”

I didn’t answer.

“Your silence is suspicious, Luce.”

“I don’t have a nickname for you.”

“Wow, so convincing.”

“I don’t,” I promised. “But my cousins do.”

He looked my way quickly, brows lifted. “Now you have to tell me. You wrote home about me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Hardly. But of course, my best friends knew about my nemesis. Poppy has a thing for nicknames, so you got one and it stuck.”

“Am I going to need to drag it from you?”

“It would serve you right after the hoops you just made me jump through to get a little information about your feelings.”

“Ew, feelings. I’m allergic to them, you know. Like cooties. Nicknames, however, aren’t so terrible.”

I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that rose at that.

“Shark attack.”

“Shark—” He laughed, and I bit my lips together to hide my amusement. “Is it because of my name? You made fun of me for my name?”

“No, no , no, you were the one doing all the making fun. Poppy just felt like it was an apt description since every one of our encounters was usually…”

“Deadly?”

I swatted at him. “No. More like painful.”

“Man, I’m sorry.”

I didn’t want the light mood to go again. “Don’t be. Ultimately, your name was just an innocent bystander to Poppy’s brain.”

His grin was broad when he met my eyes again. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Eight, but Kaden doesn’t count, so really just seven.”

“Kaden doesn’t count?”

“He’s an idiot. Anyways, I’m close to five of them. We talk almost every day. Get together at least once a month. Commiserate over nemeses, and such. You know, the usual.”

“I don’t know, actually. I’m an only child, and both my parents were as well.”

“Oh. That’s… lonely.” I was reminded of my feelings about how lonely I’d been after my parents divorced. But at least I still had people, even if I felt like an ill-fitting puzzle piece.

“Sometimes. Tell me more about Kaden. What did he do to get in your black books?”

“Oh, jeez, it’s just that he’s…” My phone dinged twice in quick succession. I was distracted when I saw my mom’s name across the screen.

“Do you need to answer that? Is it the cousins? Let me plead my case for a new nickname.” He reached across the console without looking, grabbing for my phone.

I sat straighter in the chair, holding my phone out of reach. “No, dummy, it’s my mom. She’s—” I opened the text and froze.

“Everyt hing okay?”