“You were going to tell me off?”
He nods, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his navy blue slacks and rocking back on his heels. “Oh yeah. I had a lot of choice words for you.”
My hand lifts to cover my mouth and my eyes go wide, feigning shock. “Mr. Pastor. Were you cussing in your mind?”
He smiles and points upward with one finger. “That’s between me and God.”
“Let me put your mind at ease once again. I did not kill your father.Nobodykilled your father. He died of natural causes—”
“Natural causes?” David’s eyebrows lift, his head tipping to the side.
“That’s what they ruled.”
“If only your mother had—”
My palm lifts, stopping him. My mother hadn’t allowed an autopsy.
“I know. I asked her to, but she wouldn’t budge. She said she couldn’t stand the thought of someone poking around in his body.” I’d wanted it, if only to make it clear to everyone that although we were questioned by the police, it didn’t mean we were guilty.
“It only made you look more guilty.” He winces. “That’s what I’ve been told, anyway.”
It’s true. Not allowing an autopsy took away being able to say what his cause of death was beyond a shadow of a doubt. The police may have decided it wasn’tprobablethat we were responsible for Ted’s death, but not knowing for certain how he died made our involvementpossible.
That doesn’t help David though. The only answer I have isn’t the one he wants. “Well, you know the truth now. I’m sorry I ruined all the scenarios you’ve been running in your head for the past four years.”
“Not me. It helps me to stop thinking of my dad as a victim.”
“Hah!” I bark out loudly, then cover my mouth.
David’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“A victim is the last thing your father was and—”
The front door opens and Finn walks in. He glares at David. “Are you done talking to her yet? Because there isn’t any shade out front and I’m sweating my balls off.”
“We’re done.” I stare at David, silently finishing my sentence. Out loud, I say, “Let me know if you need anything else.”
He shakes his head. “We should be good. See you Saturday at eleven.”
Finn guides me out the door, his arm firmly around my shoulder. “What was that about?” he asks as we cross the hot pavement.
For a second, I contemplate telling him the truth. Finn doesn’t give a shit who’s related to whom. I open my mouth, but something stops me. I feel weirdly bound to keep Thomas’ secret.
Shaking my head, I say, “I think you make him nervous.” We reach my car, and Finn opens the door for me.
I climb in and look back to where Finn still stands in the open door. Eight years has done nothing but make him more attractive. It’s easy to presume he is the best-looking app developer in Silicon Valley. Finn never had trouble with girls in high school, and I would bet every cent in my bank account he is still just as successful with women.
Finn steps closer until his legs are flush with the car. He lifts a section of my hair and places it over my shoulder. His gaze burns into mine, and as much as I want to look away, I feel altogether powerless.
“I meant what I said to you earlier, Finn.” My voice is a murmur, weak even to my own ears.
“I know you did.” Finn weaves a hand through the hair he moved over my shoulder, his thumb rubbing a spot just below my ear. “Do I make you nervous too, Lennon?”
“No.”Yes.
Finn chuckles, the sound a low rumble in his chest.
He leans in closer, his lips nearly to my ear, and says, “I think I do. You have a tell.”
