Chapter 42 Sydney
Sydney
There were few people from her past with whom Sydney kept in contact. The unpleasant memories were enough. Foster care was a nightmare, mostly. That was until her final placement.
“Hey,” she greeted as she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and turned away from Fink.
In the confines of the cab of a pickup truck, there wasn’t much in the way of privacy.
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” her former foster mother said. The relief was clear in her voice.
Sydney nodded. “Yeah.” She inhaled as she glanced skyward. “Been busy around here.”
“I know you’re out there living and don’t want me bothering you,” she said.
Sydney could imagine the enormous grin on the woman’s face. It warmed Sydney’s heart. Cassidy had the type of smile that could make the surliest of bastards return it happily. The best part? It wasn’t forced. She was merely a genuinely happy woman who wanted to do well in the world.
There should be more Cassidys out there. If there were, maybe Fink and Sydney wouldn’t be the people they were or have the jobs they did. There wouldn’t be a need for their type of work, that was for sure.
“I don’t want to take too much of your time,” Cassidy said, interrupting Sydney’s thoughts. “Hauwa and I are planning Thanksgiving and were wondering if you were stopping by for dinner? Desert?”
Shit. It was that time of year already? Wasn’t it recently Halloween?
Sydney ran her fingers along her forehead. “Uh.”
Would she be in town? Fink just asked her to move to Maine with him.
What if Fink got another contract? What if they both did? She doubted that murders took holiday breaks.
“Say yes,” he whispered softly beside her.
Whipping around, she gaped at him. How in the ever-loving hell had he heard the conversation? Sydney put the phone at the lowest volume imaginable. She could barely make out what Cassidy said. How the fuck had Fink?
“No pressure,” Cassidy said. “If you’ve got nothing to do, we would love to have you.”
Sydney chewed on her bottom lip.
Fink waved a hand in her direction. “Say yes,” he repeated.
She wanted to. Cassidy and Hauwa were the first people to actually open their home, and their hearts, to her. Two and a half years wasn’t enough time with them. There was a connection there. They were the only family Sydney kept in touch with.
Albeit not consistently. She hadn’t reached out for months. She’d been busy, didn’t think she should talk about it. Calling them with nothing to say seemed pointless. Though if she had, they would’ve answered, and if she needed it, their door was always open.
There were no kinder people on the planet than at her previous, and last, foster placement. They were the closest thing to a family Sydney had.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Fantastic.”
“What?” Hauwa’s voice came through the line.
“She’s coming,” Cassidy practically squealed.
The delight in her tone made Sydney smile. These people were walking saints on Earth.
“By herself?” Hauwa, her other foster mother, asked. “I want to know how big of a turkey to get.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Cassidy asked. “Bring them too. The more the merrier.”
Sydney glanced toward Fink.
Seeing someone? Well, that was tricky, wasn’t it? What were she and Fink? Captor and hostage? Heh. She mentally snorted at herself. That ship sailed. They were definitely something more than that.
Murder fuck buddies. Mentor and mentee. Soon-to-be roommates. Though she hadn’t actually given him an answer on that. Their relationship was far too complicated and multifaceted to fit into one label.
“I’d love to come,” Fink announced loud enough for Cassidy and Hauwa to hear.
Her eyes widened. Mr. Ultra-Private wanted to attend a holiday with her?
“Is that—” Cassidy gasped on the other end. “You’re with him now?”
“A man?” Hauwa commented. “She got rid of the wench? Thank you, Jesus.”
Sydney couldn’t help but chuckle hearing her former foster mother’s comment about her ex-girlfriend.
Hauwa never liked Brooke. Cassidy, true to form, made the best of things and played nice.
Sydney was convinced Cassidy hadn’t met a person she didn’t enjoy.
She found the best in everyone. Even if they didn’t see it in themselves.
Including Sydney.
“Last year.” She sighed. “We’ve been broken up for a while.”
“I’m aware,” Cassidy grumbled. “I told her that. She just forgets sometimes.”
“What is his name?” Hauwa asked. “For the place card.”
“F—”
“Callum,” Fink interrupted. “My name is Callum.”
Again, she stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. His name was Callum? Since when?
“He sounds lovely,” Cassidy said as the doorbell rang. “Gotta go, sweetie. See you in two weeks.”
The call ended, but Sydney’s gaze stuck on Fink or Callum. Whatever his name was.
Should she be offended? He withheld that name from her when she asked. All he gave her was the nickname, but for her foster mothers, he let it fly. No problem. That felt insulting.
“Callum?” she asked.
He nodded.
Wait. There was a chance he’d lied. She should pump the brakes before she took umbrage. “How did you come up with that?”
Hadn’t he asked her the same question about her own moniker? Turnabout was fair play.
He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
“That’s not a common name. If I were giving a fake one, I’d use something like Mike or Tom.”
He chuckled. “Why would I do that?”
“You didn’t tell me when I asked.” She got closer to being offended.
He shrugged. “You know it now.”
“So, your real legal name is Callum?” This felt way more monumental than him asking her to move in with him. While both were enormous gestures, this was far more personal.
“Callum Patrick Rafferty,” he announced, full of pride and using a horrendous Irish accent. “Aka Fink.”
Slouching in her seat, she was in awe of him. Most people learned their lover’s names immediately. If they cared to. Fink had denied her that initially.
Not now, though. He opened up to her. Not only had he invited her into his fortress of solitude, but he had told her his actual real name. This was serious. Far more important than she ever expected.
“I guess you were telling the truth when you said you were Irish?” she asked, gesturing to the large tattoo on his neck.
He ran a hand over it almost self-consciously. “And Scottish. I have never lied to you.” He glanced in her direction with a toothy grin.
Were they any other people, this would be small potatoes. Not some monumental milestone. However, for them, legal birth names were a big deal. Once again, the benign details about relationships landed Fink and Sydney in uncharted territory.
This was normal. When fucking someone, taking them to family Thanksgiving was customary. Unless it was something on the down-low. Considering he asked her to move in with him, she couldn’t pretend this was casual.
Peering at him, she couldn’t keep her curiosity in anymore. The question fell from her lips before she could think better of it. “What are we?”
“What do you mean?”
They absolutely were a “we.” He’d established that a while ago, but she hadn’t quite grasped what that meant. Every time he used that word, her heart fluttered, but she told herself not to get too excited. Two letters weren’t that serious.
She couldn’t say that anymore.
“Us.” She had to come up with a better way to word it, though she thought it was perfectly clear. “If I’m moving in with you, and you’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner…”
“So, you’re going to end your lease?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She waved off his question dismissively. That wasn’t important.
Once again, he smiled wide and brightened the cab of the truck while nodding. “Great.”
“So, we’ll be roommates?”
He peered at her with a quirked brow.
“Murder fuck buddies?” She tried again.
He threw his head back and let loose a hearty laugh.
It tickled her ribs. The nerves that had taken root in her gut for the past few days untangled, slowly evaporating. She loved the sound of his joy.
“What do you want us to be?” he asked.