“Deal. But please do not tell him I just stripped naked in front of you.” Even if I am actively attempting to scare him away, that is too much to reveal about a person.
Lucy beams. “Deal!”
An hour later, the doorbell rings, and I open the door to let in a very handsome, very casual crown prince. He wears white sneakers that are like the male version of mine, dark wash bootcut jeans, and a white Henley quarter-sleeve shirt that pulls taut across his chest. For a slimmer man, he sure has muscle definition.
Which I should definitely not be noticing.
Nor should I be reeling over the fact that we match. Was this Lucy’s doing?
My cheeks heat as he takes a seat on the couch like Lucy instructed once I gestured for him to come in. I follow him without saying a single word because, if I’m being completely honest, I haven’t been able to rip my eyes away from him and his excited blue eyes and luscious blond hair, styled to where only the left side falls across his face.
He is objectively beautiful; I cannot allow that to cloud my mission.
“Hey, Finley,” I finally say, taking a seat on my reclining chair, a safe distance from him. Lucy plops on the other side of the couch so that Finley is between us. “Would you like some tea?”
“I was thinking we could stop at Books and Beans for tea before going on the nature walk,” he says. “If that’s okay with you.”
“That is fine with me.” I nod my head then shift my eyes to Lucy. She mimics the nod I gave Finley, firm and decisive. “But we would like to talk to you about something important first.”
Finley sits up and folds his hands in his lap. “I’m all ears.” And an image of a small Finley with Dumbo ears pops into my brain. I fight to stifle a laugh, but at least it lightens my mood. Sometimes I enjoy the weirdness of my brain.
After taking a breath, I state, “I have autism.”
Finley’s engaged expression doesn’t falter or change. After a moment of silence, he says, “Thanks for telling me about that. Could you explain more about how it impacts you specifically?”
My heart races at his affirming, receptive response. That is not what I was expecting. I don’t make a habit of telling everyonebecause it’s honestly none of their business. I also don’t make a habit of beating people over the head to make them accommodate me. That’s selfish, no matter what other people may say. But this response is a rare one. And it does something funny to my heart.
And apparently my brain because I have forgotten how to speak.
Lucy fills in the silence. “My sister is a socially awkward, intelligent, often overloaded with sensations, wonderful specimen of society.”
I glare at her, but she laughs. It helped me find words, though. “Yes, I’m those things, but it’s because I think and process a little differently than what others consider normal. One of my most showing and prominent quirks outside of blunt honesty and a desperate need for routine and pattern is sensory overload. That’s why I’ve panicked when you’ve touched me in the past. Sometimes it’s too much.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” is all he says. In a tone like everything has clicked and he’s perfectly okay with it. “Thanks for letting me know. I will be extra cautious from now on with touch. What other things get under your skin?” He chuckles as I gape at him. “Bad pun. But I’m not sorry. Okay, can we talk more about this during our nature walk?”
“One more thing,” Lucy pipes in while my brain struggles to catch up with the fact that Finley is not scared, shocked, or disturbed by this revelation. At least, if he is, he does a better job at masking than I do. He even nods along as Lucy instructs him on how to help me out of sensory overload and panic. Once she’s done, he salutes her and promises to take care of me. Lucy gigglesand turns heart-eyes on the two of us before she says, “I can’t believe you are going to get married before me.”
“Not happening,” I quickly retort, and Finley doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. He stands, holds out a hand to me, which I politely decline because I’m still not feeling up to touching after the overload experience an hour ago, and then opens the door for me to walk through.
As he steps out behind me, Lucy hollers, “Have her back by ten, King-in-Law! That’s her self-imposed bed time. Even on the weekends.”
Finley yells back, “Roger that, boss.”
And I laugh. Those two would probably be the best of friends if I married him.
Banishing the intrusive thought ofmarrying him, I make my way to his old Mustang and wait for him to open my door.
Well, darn.
The man already has me trained to accept his chivalry.
After we stop at Books and Beans for tea, Finley takes me to the nature center in Juniper Grove. I’ve been here plenty on my own, but this is the first time I’ve gone with someone. With a man, at that.
Well, three men if I’m being completely honest. His two PPOs, whose names I learned are Gabriel and Anders, trail behind us. Far enough to where they can’t readily hear our conversation but still close enough to act if something was to happen. I don’t mind as much as I thought I would when Finley introduced us earlier. They seem nice enough, and I think Lucy has been talking to Gabriel quite a bit.
Being here with Finley creates a different atmosphere than when I’m alone as we walk down the paved dirt path through labeled trees, plants, and the occasional informational sign noting the different wildlife in the area. I inhale the earthy smell. If I could have a cottage home out in the middle of the woods where I was given this smell every single day, I think I’d thrive. It’s hard to detach or spiral when I’m surrounded by God’s stellar creation. Every tree, animal, and plant is a fingerprint of His intelligent design, pulling me into a closer relationship with Him and worship of Him.
“You’re a Christian, right? Judging by the fact you came to our church, ask for prayer before our meals, and have your own Bible. I know those things don’t make a Christian, so I would like to know more about your faith if you are willing to share.” I reach out to touch the smooth bark of a red maple tree.
