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Reggie rolls his eyes. “Nobody keeps cards anymore, Nic. I snapped a pic on my phone. I know how to find you.”
“You have any questions, you call me. Anytime.” I stop him with a hand on his arm. “I mean that, Reggie. Anytime. Anything I can do to help, you just let me know.”
He drops the teenage tough-guy mask just enough that I can see the vulnerability, the overwhelming responsibility, and the determination on his face. He nods, even gives me something like a smile, and leaves.
Finn exhales audibly.
“Are all your cases like that?”
“Like what?” For all the good computers have done, there’s still a ridiculous amount of physical paper I have to sort and pack away. I start piling files into my bag.
“That kid,” says Finn. “He’s so young.”
“Not at all,” I say, still stacking and sorting. “Most of the people who come in here are adults. Lots of seniors. It’s a bit random. You never know who’s going to need some help.”
Finn is quiet as I tidy up the desk. He checks the hallway before we leave the office, shutting off the light before closing the door behind us. The rest of the building is more or less deserted, with only a few offices still showing light beneath the doors.
We’re in my car before Finn speaks again.
“My parents died when I was about his age.”
My hands freeze on the steering wheel.
“It was just me and my sister. My cousin is a few years older. His home life was shit, so he moved in with us after they died. I still don’t know how he managed, but he kept us together and helped keep the roof over our heads so we didn’t get split up. We didn’t even have to leave our house.”
Nothing I can say can express my shock or my sympathy. I don’t think Finn wants to hear it anyway. I simply lay a hand over his, where it rests on his thigh. Finn looks at it, then looks up at me.
“If I had somebody like you to talk to, maybe I could have handled things on my own. Maybe it wouldn’t have messed with Callie’s head so bad. Or maybe it would have kept me out of trouble. Or made things so Sully could have gone to school like he wanted.”
Oh, Finn. “What kind of trouble?”
“I met a girl. She found out my parents left us some money. Didn’t take her long to talk me into sharing it her way.”
The anger is immediate. “How old was she? Couple of years older than you, right?” His eyes flick to mine in surprise.
“How could you possibly know that?” he asks.
I shake my head, my hand tightening on his. “I see it all the time here.” I gesture at the Legal Aid offices. “It’s the first thing I tell a client like Reggie: never mention the word ‘inheritance’ to anybody. There’s a whole class of bottom-feeders who scavenge off the grief of the newly bereaved.”
Finn looks down at our hands.
“It’s good,” he says slowly, meeting my eyes again. “What you’re doing here is good work.”
He turns his palm up underneath mine and laces our fingers together. My heart threatens to pound out of my chest.
“What—” My voice actually cracks, and I want to die, but I don’t pull my hand away. “What are you doing?”
Finn swallows hard. He leans in, closer and closer, until I can’t see anything but those deep blue eyes, the start of a beard coming in on his cheeks, his mouth. Until we’re close enough to share the air. He’s giving me time to stop him, I realize.
Surging forward, I take his mouth.
The kiss is vicious, intense, and so satisfying I can feel a humiliating heat behind my eyes. Lips and teeth and tongue, and my hands are in his hair, and I’m cursing this ridiculous vehicle for being too small because I can’t climb over the shifter into his lap.
Finn groans, his broad chest rumbling with it, and it brings me back to earth enough to break the kiss and open my eyes.
“Finn.”
His eyes struggle to open, his tongue darting out to trace his own mouth. My cock throbs uncomfortably against my zipper. His eyes are still hooded when he finally speaks.
