Chapter 17 #2
“Absolutely awesome. I just, you know, sometimes things get backed up at the lab. I thought I heard something about that today. Did all your crew get their lab results back?”
Finn squeezed an eye shut as if in contemplation. “Geez, Quinton, I don’t have a clue. I’m not even one-hundred percent certain mine came back. But I figure Doc wouldn’t have let me go if she had any worries. Well, I promised to call Mom a couple of times over the next twelve hours.”
You left AMA, but I’m not going to bring that up now. “And have you?”
He gazed up at the ceiling. “Have I what?”
“Called your mother.”
He blew out a breath. “And get her all worried and stressed over nothing? Look, she wanted her baby boy to work on electrical science projects—not fight fires, deal with drug overdoses, and generally make a pest of himself all over Mission City.”
“Is that a reference to your sexual exploits?”
He burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you did not just say that.”
“You’re not known for discretion.”
“I never tapped you.”
“And maybe that’s why? Plus, you prefer to be tapped.”
He snorted. “Well, there is that. We never were compatible.”
“Nope.” I longed to reach out and feather his hair.
He might be laughing—as I’d hoped he would—but he wasn’t okay.
“Look, if you won’t check in with your mom, will you at least check in with me?
When you see the neurologist day after tomorrow, you won’t have to lie about being a good boy and checking in with someone. ”
“When have I ever been a good boy?”
This time, I let a snort loose. For all his swagger, Finn was as actually a really good guy—upstanding, honest to a fault, always the first to volunteer to help.
All of which led me to believe that whatever happened earlier, it had nothing to do with my friend. “You going to be okay if I take off? Morning comes fucking early.”
“Yeah, and it sucks that it’s still dark out.”
“Right? When is winter ever going to end?”
“Late March or early April? At least we don’t live in northern BC when winter never ends.”
“Never?” I rose and stretched.
“Okay.” He grinned. “Just in time for fire season.”
“You don’t fight wildfires, right?”
He shook his head. “My expertise is urban and structural fires. I mean, I can put out a grass fire or some shit like that, but forest fires are another beast entirely. Dean’s an expert on those—if you want in-depth knowledge.” Dean who married Adam—the burn victim.
“Nah. Just curious.” I headed toward the entryway and my coat. “So you’ll call?”
“I’ll text you twice during the night and how about you call me in the morning? I don’t want to disturb your sleep.”
I pursed my lips. “That’s not what you told the doc you’d do.”
He shrugged. “You know me—dancing to my own beat.”
“And a damn fine dancer you are.”
“Too bad we never—” He made a rather rude gesture.
“Yeah. That. But—” I hesitated.
“Oh, you can’t bring up butts and not follow through with that comment.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’ve met someone. Man, I don’t know what he is or isn’t to me. I just—” I swallowed. “He’s more than just a friend. Which is amazing.”
“The surgeon?”
I nodded.
He shrugged. “Sometimes we can’t help who we’re attracted to. Or understand the mysterious ways of the world.”
“You’ll meet someone, you know.”
He waved me off. “I’m not looking for someone. I’m young. I’m carefree. I can get laid pretty much anytime I want.”
His words weren’t born of arrogance—he really could nab just about any guy in any gay bar between Mission City and Vancouver.
Hell, he could probably land a few men in regular bars as well.
His magnetism could overwhelm mere mortals—yet he never played on his good looks.
He just kept smiling and doing whatever needed to be done.
“You’re a good man, Finnegan O’Sullivan.”
He groaned. “You sound like my mother.”
“She’s a wise woman.” I pulled on my coat. “Mothers who are also nurses tend to be.”
“You ever tell your mom that?”
“Not as often as I should.” And, for that, shame swamped me. “Do me a favor? Tell your mom how great she is the next time you speak to her?”
“Sure.”
“And tell her about the fucking concussion. Unless she’s completely unaware of your schedule and everything that goes on in Mission City, there’s a good chance she’ll find out.
Think of how hurt she’ll be.” Just like Mama would be hurt if you weren’t brutally honest with her.
Did that mean I should tell her about Leo?
That answer didn’t come nearly as swiftly as responses to other questions I’d asked myself recently.
“You’ll be okay?” I zipped up my coat, but I was totally prepared to take it back off.
Finn’s cabin had two bedrooms—staying here wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. I had a spare set of scrubs in my—
“Go, Quinton. Thanks for checking up on me. Go now, though.”
“Yeah, okay.” I hesitated for a fraction of a second before opening my arms.
Finn stepped into the embrace. I had to stretch because he was so tall.
“If you ever need anything, okay?”
He pulled back to gaze into my eyes. “I’m really fine. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
And yet, if he knew what was going on, he’d just done that exact thing. I tapped his nose. “I won’t say to be good—”
“Because I won’t anyway. I love you.”
He said the words in jest, but I heard the underlying meaning. Something significant had happened today.
Does he know? Will he ever tell me?
Since I didn’t have answers for those questions, I squeezed his hand, then slipped out into the night.