He took the air with him, and as much as I wanted to sit back down with Riggs and wait for Damon’s arrival, something wasn’t right with Finn and I couldn’t let him walk out like that without addressing it.
“He’s not normally like that,” I said by way of apology.
Riggs cupped my face in his hand and traced his thumb across my cheekbone, any signs of unhappiness already long gone. “I didn’t imagine he would be.”
“I need to?—”
Riggs gently pressed his mouth against mine and whispered, “I know.”
A low whistle grew louder to my right, and Riggs ended the kiss in time for me to see Damon sauntering toward the table.
“Do I get a kiss too?” he asked.
Riggs gave him the finger.
“I’m so sorry,” I said instead of hello. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” he promised, jerking his head toward the booth and taking a seat next to Riggs.
I spun and jogged to the door, looking left and right and not finding Finn. He couldn’t have gotten far, so I headed for the parking lot, relieved to find his red BMW still parked in the lot. Finn stood at the trunk, hands braced against it and his head hanging low on his shoulders. My brother looked like a man defeated. I ran toward him, slowing down on the approach but not hesitating to close the space between us. I slid my handagainst the small of his back, not faltering when he startled under my touch.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked.
He made a derisive noise in the back of his throat and stood straight, sniffling his nose in a way that led me to believe he’d been crying.
“I’m not the one living a mid-life teenage rebellion.”
“Quarter life,” I corrected, which earned me a smile.
“I’m sorry for that.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m fine. It’s just….doesn’t matter. I’m fine. I am sorry for what your boyfriend must think of me, though.”
“He knows me well enough to know you’re not normally like that,” I assured. “It’s water under the bridge.”
“He’s not the kind of man I would have pictured you with is all.”
I rested my ass against the edge of Finn’s trunk and jammed my hands into my pockets. “What kind of man do you picture me with?”
He snorted, resting beside me. “A woman, if we’re being honest.”
“Oh, come on.” I knocked him playfully with my elbow. “I’m too much like Marshall for that.”
Finn laughed at me, loud and earnest.
“He makes you happy?”
“Very.”
“Okay,” Finn said.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you happy?”
Another laugh, but far more self-deprecating. “I’m fine, Smith.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He pushed off the car and clapped me on the shoulder. “Youaretoo much like Marshall sometimes, you know?”
Finn pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the driver’s side door, walking toward it with his shoulders sagging. I stepped out of the way and crossed my arms in front of my chest.
