Finn went still against his chest. “You did?”
“I told him you were the reason I’d been focused.”
Finn lifted his head again and looked at him.
“He said okay. That was it.”
Finn’s throat moved. He lifted one palm and traced the gray at Evan’s temple with his thumb. Evan turned his head and pressed his lips to Finn’s palm.
“I’m going to be terrible at this sometimes,” Evan said. “The reflex will fire and I’ll reach for the professional voice before I catch myself. I’m not promising perfect.”
Finn propped himself on one elbow. Hair wrecked, gaze steady. “I know. But you showed up in a parking lot in Chicago and kissed me in front of the Fury facility. And you told your father. So I think we’ll figure it out.”
“I love you,” Evan said again.
Finn’s mouth curved. “I know. You said that already.”
* * *
They ordered room service and ate in bed. Finn sat cross-legged against the headboard with a plate of pasta balanced on his knee. Evan leaned back against the pillows, shirt still off, fork in one hand. Both of them eating like they had forgotten food existedfor hours. Finn had already fielded three more calls from his agent. Evan had answered a single text from Claire that said simply: well?
Finn’s phone rang.
Caller ID read Kowalski.
Finn glanced at it, then at Evan, who had gone very still on the pillows, fork halfway to his mouth. Finn answered.
“Hey.”
Eli’s voice came through easy. “Heard you’re in Chicago.”
“Yeah.” Finn looked at Evan, who was pretending to be very interested in his pasta while watching Finn with sharp focus. “Eval went well.”
“Good. You have dinner plans tomorrow?”
Finn raised an eyebrow at Evan. “Not yet?”
“There’s a place near the facility. Good pizza. I’ll text you the address.” A pause. “Bring Tremblay if he’s there.”
Finn’s mouth opened. Closed. “How did you—”
“He called me. Told me to keep an eye out for you. Said Michigan players are good people and I should make sure you had someone looking out for you.” Eli’s voice went dry. “He thought I wouldn’t figure out why he cared.”
Finn looked at Evan. Evan had set his fork down and was studying the far wall like the hotel art had suddenly become fascinating.
“He called you,” Finn said.
“Didn’t take credit. Told me not to mention it. But I’m mentioning it because he’s an idiot and you should know.”
Finn’s chest went warm. He looked at Evan, whose expression sat caught between sheepish and defiant.
“Yeah,” Finn said. “I’m figuring that out.”
“Dinner tomorrow. Seven. Both of you.” Eli paused. “It’s good to have Michigan people in Chicago, Holloway. I’m glad you’re here.”
The call ended.
Finn set the phone down and looked at Evan. Evan looked back, palms flat on the duvet on either side of his plate.
