Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Marcus picks up his coffee, takes a huge swallow like it’s the well of life. “You think she doesn’t know that?”
“She knows it.”
“And is apparently accepting of it. It’s not yours to decide for her.”
I sit with the chart table between us and the fact I’m running out of arguments for why I should hold Josie at arm’s length. She’s already in my house. She’s already in my life. She’s already in me in a way I don’t have words for.
The question isn’t whether I can have her. The question is what I have to give up to keep her.
“You ever think about it?” I ask him, because I’m tired of being the one in the spotlight. “Walking away?”
“Sometimes.”
“What stops you?”
His expression softens. “Lori and the kids. The money’s too good working for you and it’s too needed by them.”
His sister, niece and nephew. Lori’s divorced and her youngest son has cerebral palsy. Marcus has been supporting them and they’re all super tight.
Lori works in admissions at a hospital and she does fine but fine doesn’t pay for the insurmountable medical bills that insurance doesn’t cover.
Marcus reaches across the chart table and picks up his gun. He slides it back into the shoulder holster and pulls his jacket closed.
“I’m going to start prep on The Quartermaster today,” he says. “You go pick up your girl from work.”
“She won’t be ready to leave for a few hours, but I do have some stuff to do over at the gallery.”
Marcus nods and that’s when we hear footsteps on the deck above. His hand reaches for the gun in his jacket as the cabin door opens and Connie steps through.
She trots down the steps in a rush of cold air and apologetic energy. Hair pulled back, no makeup, oversized sweater and jeans. She looks like she slept on someone’s couch and rolled out of it twenty minutes ago. She looks like Connie when Connie’s hungover and rushing to make up for it.
“Friday night went sideways,” she says, dropping her bag on the floor by her stool. “I’ve been at Tara’s since Saturday. My phone was in her dryer until an hour ago. I’m so sorry. I know I’ve missed everything.”
Marcus and I look at each other, and one of his eyebrows lifts in a slight cock of surprise.
She doesn’t catch it because her back’s to us as she reaches into the galley cabinet for a coffee mug. She pours the cup and sits down on the bench in her usual place. “Tell me what I missed.”
Marcus leans back in his chair, rests a forearm on the table. “The usual run from Steveston. We’ll pick up at…”
I tune Marcus out as he catches her up. I watch as she blows on the coffee, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looks normal. She looks like Connie having a normal morning after a bad weekend.
I watch her and I don’t trust it. “Connie.”
Her head swivels my way as Marcus falls silent. “Yeah?”
“We good?”
There’s a hesitation. It’s small, the kind you wouldn’t see if you weren’t looking for it, but I’m zoned in on it.
She smiles at me. “Yeah, Finn. We’re good.”
She holds my eyes a second longer than she needs to, perhaps to convey her authenticity, and I don’t know what to trust so I let it go.
“Steveston pickup at midnight,” I say, sliding the chart toward her. “Marcus is running it solo. You’re off this one.”
Her face changes a fraction. “What? Why?”
“I need you in town. Janelle’s running short for Margaret’s collector dinner Tuesday night and she needs another body.”
It’s a fabrication. The collector dinner’s real, but Janelle has it covered. I make it up on the spot and watch to see how she takes it.
Her eyes flash with anger. “Come on, Finn. That’s not fair. I was counting on this cut and I’ve never let you down, not once. So don’t be an ass. Let me run with Marcus.”
A slight pulse of relief hits me as that was the response I was hoping for. Connie isn’t a pushover. Had she meekly accepted my decree, it would have meant she was feeling guilty for something. The fact she’s fighting me on it seems like we’re truly okay.
“Fine,” I say with a curt nod and tap my finger on the table. “But don’t be late again.”
“Sure thing, boss,” she says caustically. Classic Connie and that too makes me feel a bit better.
She and Marcus go through the run logistics. I half listen, instead studying Connie to see if I can detect anything else that will fully assuage my worries. I watch her hands when she reaches for the chart, I watch her eyes when she answers Marcus’s questions about Walt’s signal and the Coast Guard window. She seems locked in.
She seems normal, as if our fight three nights ago was nothing.