Exhale.
“And know.”
I picture her in her rocking chair, gathering me to her chest as we look out over the farm.
Repeating the words along with intentional, rhythmic breathing calms me. My watch goes quiet. By the time I’ve gotten a better control of my misbehaving heartbeat, Finn has won the battle.
“You’re back in.” I applaud him.
He tilts his head to the side, his sharp chin cutting through the moonlight. The smug look of confidence in his eyes is matched by the slight upturn of his lips.
I can’t help but smile back.
His eyes flicker to my mouth. And like a ghost passing through the night, the smile putters out, and he goes back to being the serious, expressionless Finn everyone knows.
Turning stiffly to the computer, he grunts. “I’m in, but I still can’t get a read on their location.”
I peer ahead, focusing on the program he tweaked. I’d prefer peoplenotmess with my algos, but I can admit that Finn made my work better. Stronger. More impenetrable.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” I muse as he clacks away on the keyboard. “If you heard your mom’s voice, why don’t you just call her and ask why she’s there?”
His hands stall for the briefest moment. “It could be a mistake.”
“Or maybe it wasn’t.”
He starts typing again, ignoring me.
Tap-tap-tap.
“Maybe your mom has a good reason for taking them,” I suggest.
Finn scowls at the computer.
I twist slightly on his lap. “If you’re so sure it’s not your mom, then you must have other suspects. Your dad?”
Finn takes my chin in his hands and forces my head to face the computer. “Be quiet and watch that decryption.”
Tap-tap-tap.
My breath escapes in an annoyed huff. I’m getting real tired of his broody silent act. It’s like talking to a gorgeous, stubborn wall. And while I have no problem talking to walls—I’ve done plenty of brick conversing in this lonely hospital room—I’vefinallymet a human who talks the same programming language that I do.
And all he wants to do is ignore me.
I get that Finn’s family members have been kidnapped, and he thinks his mom might have done it, but does he have to be such a buzz kill?
“Fine.” I frown at the computer, but I’m still shifting my weight around on his lap. “What exactly am I watching for?”
“Stop moving,” Finn grinds out.
I continue wiggling backward. “I want to, but you’re just so…hard.”
The tapping goes silent.
“You’re the one sitting on my double stuffed memory foam cushion, you know. And I’m sitting on someone who doesn’t skip leg day. It’s an unfair—gah!”
Without warning, Finn bands his arms around my waist and flings me off him like I’m a used tissue. I spin out of the chair and to my feet with an uncoordinated twirl, barely managing to find my balance.
“You stay over there,” he commands, pointing at me without looking away from the computer. “Andzip it.”
