"That's manipulative."
"That's tactical. There's a difference." He's fully grinning now, chaos engine revving back up. "Plus we both know you want to sleep next to him anyway. This is just giving you permission and a game plan."
"You're terrible."
"I'm efficient. There's a—"
"Don't say difference."
"—distinction." He pulls into the hardware store parking lot, killing the engine. "Okay. Phase one complete: emotional excavation. Phase two: I'm going to buy the most obnoxious shit I can find and you're going to be my witness."
I follow him into the store, air conditioning hitting like a blessing, and immediately regret every decision that led to this moment because Finn spots the garden section.
"Gerald," he breathes, like he's found the Holy Grail.
Gerald is a garden gnome. Two feet tall, holding a tiny fishing pole, painted in colors so bright they're borderline offensive.
"No," I say.
"He's coming home with us."
"Absolutely not."
"I'm going to put him outside Holt's bedroom window. Just his creepy little face staring in." Finn's already tucking Gerald under his arm like a football. "It's happening, Adler. Bear witness to greatness."
The next forty-five minutes are pure Finn unleashed. He tests every doorbell in the display, making the entire store sound like a deranged church bell choir. He tries on safety gogglesand strikes poses. He rearranges the paint sample cards into a rainbow gradient that actually looks kind of nice until he knocks the entire display over and we're both covered in paint dust, coughing and laughing like idiots while an employee glares at us.
But between the chaos, he's teaching me things. Pointing out the brands Holt prefers, explaining why he's particular about specific tools, sharing stories about their early days at the shop when they were figuring it out as they went. He picks up a wrench and weighs it in his hand.
"Holt bought me this exact one when we first opened. Said I needed my own set if I was going to be his partner." He sets it back down carefully. "I gave him shit about being sentimental and he just shrugged, like it wasn't the nicest thing anyone ever did for me."
"He's good at the quiet gestures."
"Yeah." Finn looks at me, something serious breaking through the chaos for just a second. "He's been alone a long time, Scout. By choice, mostly. He doesn't let people in. So the fact that he's letting you—that's not nothing. Don't waste it."
"I'm not planning to."
"Good." The serious moment passes and he's grinning again, grabbing Gerald. "Now let's find those bearings before I buy a leaf blower I don't need."
We find the parts Holt needs, Finn flirting outrageously with the woman at the counter while she rings up Gerald and a bag of googly eyes he somehow acquired. The whole store probably breathes easier when we leave.
Lunch is a random diner off the highway. Finn orders like he's trying to sample the entire menu—burger, fries, onion rings, a slice of pie for later—and steals half my fries the moment they arrive.
"You're a menace."
"And yet you love me anyway." He's grinning around a mouthful of burger. "It's my curse. Being this charming."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
He throws an onion ring at me. I catch it, eat it, triumphant. The diner's air conditioning rattles overhead, fighting a losing battle against the desert heat seeping through the windows. And then, because we've been dancing around it all day and I'm too full of slushie and honesty to care anymore, I just ask.
"Do you really think it was your fault? The IED?"
Finn stops mid-bite. Sets his burger down. "Doesn't matter what I think. I triggered it. That's just how it works."
"That's not an answer."
"Yeah, well, I'm not good at those." He drags a fry through ketchup, not eating it. "I used to have nightmares where I could see the wire. Like my brain wanted to give me the memory back so I could fix it." He eats the fry. "Can't unfuck what's already fucked though."
