Chapter 4 Crossing Lines #2
Only after Eli parked did Finn realize how relieved he felt to be back.
Apparently, even reluctant protective custody could begin to feel familiar.
Eli unloaded the truck while Finn carried the notebook and the weathered guidebook into the office.
Within minutes, maps covered the large desk.
The folded tourist map contained more than hiking routes.
Tiny handwritten numbers hidden along the margins matched a string of encrypted coordinates Evelyn had sent earlier that morning.
Finn leaned over the desk.
"So our mysterious bookseller wasn't just selling books."
"No."
"He handed us the second key."
"Part of it."
Finn sighed dramatically.
"Of course it's only part of it."
Eli looked almost apologetic.
"It would be too easy otherwise."
"There it is."
"What?"
"I think that was almost a joke."
"It wasn't."
"It definitely was."
"It wasn't funny enough."
Finn laughed.
"You know, your standards are impossible."
"So I've heard."
They spent the next two hours comparing maps, notes, and encrypted files.
Whenever Finn reached for something, Eli somehow already had it waiting.
A pen appeared before Finn realized he needed one.
Fresh coffee arrived beside his laptop without a word.
When the afternoon sunlight became too bright through the office windows, Eli quietly adjusted the blinds while continuing to read reports.
None of it seemed deliberate.
None of it looked romantic.
Yet every small action made Finn pause.
He had spent years around politicians who smiled while lying.
Corporate executives who promised transparency while hiding entire scandals.
People who used grand speeches to distract from empty intentions.
Eli was the complete opposite.
He rarely said anything unnecessary.
Instead...
He noticed.
He anticipated.
He quietly took care of things before anyone needed to ask.
Finn found himself watching those little moments more than the investigation.
Late in the afternoon, he stretched his arms above his head and groaned.
"My back officially hates these chairs."
Without looking up from the documents, Eli stood.
Thirty seconds later he returned carrying a thick cushion from the living room.
He placed it on Finn's chair before sitting back down.
Finn blinked.
"I didn't ask."
"I know."
"You just..."
"I noticed."
Finn stared at the cushion.
"...Thank you."
Eli simply nodded and continued reading.
That was becoming a pattern.
No speeches.
No dramatic concern.
Just quiet actions.
Finn smiled to himself.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
By evening, the office had grown noticeably cooler.
Eli disappeared into the kitchen.
The smell of garlic, onions, and fresh herbs slowly filled the cabin.
Finn wandered in a few minutes later.
"I was going to offer to cook."
"You still can."
"You trust me with your kitchen?"
"I trust you with vegetables."
"What about everything else?"
"We'll evaluate your performance."
Finn laughed.
"You really do make everything sound like an assignment."
"It keeps expectations clear."
Dinner turned into another surprisingly comfortable evening.
They talked about books.
Classic cars.
Favorite coffee.
Finn discovered Eli secretly enjoyed detective novels.
Eli learned Finn couldn't bake to save his life.
By the time the dishes were washed, Finn had reached a conclusion.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded.
"I've solved the mystery."
Eli dried another plate.
"What mystery?"
"You."
"I'm not a mystery."
"Oh, you absolutely are."
Eli placed the plate into the cupboard.
"What did you discover?"
Finn pointed directly at him.
"You don't know how to smile."
Eli looked genuinely confused.
"I do."
"No."
"You don't."
"I smiled this morning."
"That wasn't a smile."
"It qualified."
"It frightened a squirrel."
Eli raised an eyebrow.
"There weren't any squirrels."
"They fled."
"They sensed danger."
For the briefest moment, the corner of Eli's mouth lifted.
Finn immediately pointed again.
"There!"
"What?"
"That."
"You almost smiled."
"I did smile."
"No."
"That was approximately twelve percent of a smile."
Eli shook his head.
"I wasn't aware smiles had percentages."
"They do now."
"I've invented a chart."
"I'm concerned."
"You should be."
Finn grinned.
"My new personal mission is making you laugh."
"I wouldn't recommend it."
"Oh?"
"You'll be disappointed."
Finn stepped closer.
"Challenge accepted."
Eli looked at him for a long second before quietly replying,
"You're persistent."
"I've been told."
"I believe it."
Later that evening, Eli carried another load of firewood inside before setting the logs beside the fireplace.
As he placed the final piece onto the stack, the rough bark scraped across the back of his hand.
He barely reacted.
Finn noticed immediately.
"Hold on."
"It's nothing."
"You just cut yourself."
"I've had worse."
"I'm sure you have."
Finn disappeared into the bathroom and returned carrying the first-aid kit.
Eli sighed almost imperceptibly.
"I'm fine."
"So am I."
"I'm still using antiseptic."
Eli surrendered without further argument.
They sat opposite each other near the fireplace.
Finn gently cleaned the shallow cut across Eli's palm.
The skin was rough from years of training.
Scars crossed both hands in pale silver lines.
Some thin.
Some jagged.
Some obviously much older than others.
Finn worked quietly.
"You've broken this finger."
Eli looked down.
"Twice."
"And this scar?"
"Glass."
"This one?"
"Knife."
Finn looked up.
"You really don't do things halfway."
"No."
"I noticed."
After applying the bandage, Finn held Eli's hand for another moment.
His thumb brushed lightly across the scarred knuckles almost without thinking.
The movement was gentle.
Instinctive.
The room became very quiet.
Eli's gaze lifted to meet his.
Neither man spoke.
The fire crackled softly behind them while the mountains outside disappeared into darkness.
For one suspended heartbeat, it felt as though neither of them remembered why they were supposed to keep their distance.
Finn became aware of how close they were sitting.
Close enough to notice the flecks of gray beginning to appear near Eli's temples.
Close enough to see warmth slowly replacing the usual guarded expression in those steady blue eyes.
He realized he was still holding Eli's hand.
Reluctantly, he let go.
Eli slowly drew his hand back, his fingers lingering for the briefest second before resting on his own knee.
Neither acknowledged what had just happened.
Neither apologized.
Neither tried to explain it away.
Instead, Finn quietly closed the first-aid kit while Eli thanked him with a small nod that somehow meant far more than words.
For reasons Finn couldn't quite explain, that almost-smile he'd been chasing all day suddenly didn't seem nearly as important.
He had seen something much rarer.
For just a moment, Elias Kane had lowered his guard.
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