Chapter Three
Fork Found in Parking Lot
Finn had a standing dinner date at his dad’s every Thursday night, film schedule permitting. He entered the house to bright summer sunshine flooding the kitchen.
“Finn, sweetheart, is that you?” came Gail’s voice from the back patio doors.
“Yeah, Ma!” Gail was his stepmother in the technical sense, but she’d been with Finn’s dad for much of his adult life. “I brought cider!”
Gail appeared in the doorway. Her nose was peeling with sunburn, and her reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
“You’re just doing that to torment your father.
” She tsked, but then she pressed up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Finn’s first impression of her, all those years ago, was that she would’ve made a great pairs-skating partner, pocket-size as she was.
“I approve.” She made grabby hands at the cider.
Finn’s dad—a gruff but kind man with a keen nose for bullshit—had retired from firefighting to open a microbrewery before microbreweries were cool.
Now he had to deal with the agony of the attached gastropub being trendy among the hipster crowd, a fact which, unfortunately for Finn’s dad, was never going to stop being funny.
Funnier still, neither Gail nor Finn liked beer, so they had a running bit where Finn would “sneak” cider into the house.
He put five of the six-pack in the fridge and brandished the last. “Wanna split one?”
Gail gave him a look. “Split one? What are we, fifteen?”
Typical Gail. With a bump of her shoulder, Finn popped one open and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Competition season.” Alcohol was bad for muscle recovery and inflammation and interfered with the way his body processed carbohydrates, or something. He’d read a study.
“Really.” Her eyes gleamed. “So the rumors are true. They’re putting you back in the saddle?”
For fuck’s sake. “Do you have to make it sound like I was out to pasture?” He wasn’t even thirty-five.
“No. But it’s fun.” She elbowed him. With anyone else, it would’ve been a bump to the ribs; Gail managed the soft spot just above his hip. “So? Tell me about it. I thought you were happy doing the choreography thing.”
“Stef broke her collar bone. They needed someone to fill in.”
They clinked their glasses together and carried them out to the deck. “Okay,” Gail said as she threw herself onto a lounge chair, “but—and excuse me for pointing out the obvious—Stef is a woman.”
“Yup.” Finn put his feet up on the ottoman. Maybe he should convince Holly to let him put in a patio. This was nice. Mind you, their yard was the size of a postage stamp and offered the neighbours a scenic view of their weeds, but still. “And my partner is not.”
“Oooh.” She turned toward him in her chair, dimpling. Finn couldn’t remember his birth mother—she died when he was a toddler—but Gail filled the role as happily as anyone could hope. “That is interesting. Is he cute?”
“He’s Sawyer’s uncle,” Finn evaded.
“Oh, I know Robbie.” Then she paused and scrunched her whole face into a smile. “Wait. That means yes!”
He should’ve known better than to think he could put anything past her. “He seems nice,” he said instead. “Funny. He’s not being a dick about skating with another guy, which is the main thing.”
Miraculously, Gail let him off the hook. “Good. I think the change of pace will be good for you, sweetie. You should go show off a little. Let the world know what it’s missing out on.”
She’d been on this kick ever since he and Paris split.
Never for long enough to make him feel like she was harping; more like every so often she tested the waters to find out if Finn was ready.
Part of Finn thought she was just desperate to repay the favour, since Finn was the one who engineered her meeting his dad.
“I actually think it’ll be fun,” he said. “Obviously it’s not what I’m used to, and it’s definitely not what Robbie’s used to, but that’s part of the fun.”
“Well, I, for one—”
“Finn!”
The verbal warning gave him just enough time to set his glass down before Imogen basically belly-flopped on top of him. “Oof!”
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she complained from the vicinity of his left nipple. God, her chin was sharp.
“I was being quiet trying not to get ambushed by a bony teenager.”
Mercifully, she sat up. “You’re going to get us tickets, right? So we can watch filming?”
“I don’t know,” Finn mused. “I mean, tickets could be hard to get…”
“Fiiiinn,” Imogen whined and rolled her eyes. Finn loved the little brat. “Say you’ll get us tickets to every show. I wanna see you compete!”
Finn’s career-ending injury had happened shortly after the wedding, and Imogen couldn’t remember attending any of her big brother’s competitions—a fact she lamented on a regular basis.
“Every one? What if I make it to the final? You’d have to go for weeks and weeks,” Finn teased.
“Six weeks is hardly an era,” Imogen scoffed. “It’s not even the whole summer.”
“Well, pardon me for looking out for you.” She gave him a look. “Anyway. It probably won’t be that long. Not everyone’s going to be excited about a same-sex couple. Also, I’m not sure how well the lifts are going to go.”
Gail snickered and Imogen tilted her head to the side in consideration. “Oh. I didn’t think about that. Does this mean you have to lift Robbie?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Nah, other way around.” Finn explained what he’d told Robbie earlier in the day. Imogen nodded seriously as she took it in. Behind her, Gail grinned, having way too much fun.
Before Imogen could grill Finn about the specifics of paired-skating physics, Dad arrived carrying barbecue.
“Hey, kiddo,” he gruffed in Finn’s direction.
On the outside, Finn’s dad was a stereotype: a large man who’d obviously been athletic in his youth but now carried extra pounds around his middle.
He wore years of hard physical labour on his body and cut an imposing figure, especially when quiet and unsmiling—which was often, as he was a man of few words with a resting bitch face.
But on the inside, his father was anything but the expected.
He’d been a single parent for most of Finn’s life and never left him in doubt of his love or denied him physical affection; he hadn’t batted an eye when he caught Finn making out with his first boyfriend on the couch.
He just offered Billy a Coke and then added, “You boys better be being safe.” Finn and Billy, fifteen-year-old virgins, had nearly expired from mortification.
You couldn’t find a sweeter, more open-minded man, which was why, all those years ago, Finn had arranged for his dad and Gail to crash his impromptu skating lesson with Imogen and then promptly absconded with his student to leave the two of them alone.
Gail and his dad cottoned on to Finn’s machinations immediately, but they let him get away with it because they were too busy looking at each other.
They basically hadn’t stopped since.
“So.” Imogen speared a piece of potato and eyed Finn across the table. “It’s June.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “I noticed that May was over.”
“So….”
“So.”
“So it’s Pride month! The parade is in a few weeks.”
Finn hummed. Life had few pleasures greater than being a shit to younger siblings, and Finn had missed out on the opportunity until he was a teenager.
“I was hoping we could go together this year. You’ll be able to, right?”
“I mean, my legs would be able to make the walk….”
“Fiiiinn, you tell more dad jokes than Dad. Seriously. I meant, the show won’t get in the way, will it?
Because I really wanted to go with you.” She turned to him with round, begging eyes, and Finn knew he’d be attending the parade with his sister this year, no matter what the filming schedule said.
He glanced at Gail, then his dad, both of whom gave nods of assent.
Well, it wasn’t like Finn had been planning to hook up at the parade. That didn’t mean he was going to agree without stipulations. “I have conditions.”
“Yes!”
“You haven’t even heard them yet!”
She schooled her features into something serious. “Right. Okay. Hit me with it.”
“You do what I tell you. No running off.” For the most part, Pride was a safe event, but the crowds would make it easy for them to get separated.
Imogen was old enough to call him on her cell if that happened or find her way home on public transit if she got pickpocketed and lost it, but Finn would prefer not to give himself an ulcer.
“Done.”
“And I have veto power over your outfit.”
Imogen blanched. “Finn.” Her brow wrinkled into a furious frown. “That’s, like, so… patriarchal of you. Gross.”
He pointed at her with his fork. A piece of potato salad fell off the end and landed on the table.
“No sister of mine is going to Pride dressed like a normie. But you’re also not wearing a sign that says ‘come sex traffic me.’ There are going to be a lot of people there, and it’s my job to look out for you, so you’re not making it harder. ”
Across the table, Gail and his dad exchanged looks. Typical. Finn ignored them.
Finally Imogen had chewed this over enough and offered, “We can collaborate on my fit.”
That was the best he could hope for from a teenage girl. Finn set down his fork and offered his hand. “Shake on it.”
Imogen shook. Deal done.
“Okay, great. Now pass me those ribs before Dad eats them all.”
Finn pulled into the school parking lot at ten minutes to ten and rolled the windows down so he wouldn’t have to keep the car running.
Soon enough the mild heat of June would give way to sweltering July and August, and even the scent of GTA traffic would seem refreshing in comparison with recycled air conditioning.
Of course, there was always the chance that he could get carjacked.
That had become more common in the city lately.
But this was a safe neighbourhood in the burbs and there were ten other cars, all occupied by people waiting to pick up their kids, all in more expensive rides than Finn’s, so he was probably safe.