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Sheila stiffened, taken aback by Finn’s frankness. She was suddenly aware of the hum of conversation around them, the clink of cutlery against plates, and the faint strains of jazz music playing overhead. For a moment, it seemed like an alien world, far removed from the gritty reality of her life.
“I’m not asking you to talk about it,” Finn said. “Not until you’re ready. I just want you to know I’m here for you when you are ready.”
Sheila nodded, grateful that he wasn’t pressing her to be vulnerable. She liked and trusted Finn, but talking about her sister’s suicide was not something she was prepared for, even with him. She’d hardly discussed it with her own father.
“Thanks, Finn,” she said, mustering a small smile.
“But, I have one caveat,” he said, raising a finger. “If you’re going to decline one topic of conversation, you have to introduce another."
Sheila chuckled, relieved at the change in topic. "Alright, I can handle that," she said. She thought for a moment, then asked, "Did you ever think about what you'd do if you weren't in law enforcement?"
Finn looked surprised, then thoughtful as he considered the question. He watched the flickering flames from a fireplace on the far side of the room for a few moments before he answered. "I guess I've always wanted to teach," he finally said.
"Teaching?" Sheila asked, intrigued. The image of Finn at a teacher's desk rather than in the field wearing a sheriff's badge was a strange one.
"Yeah," Finn said, with a slight shrug, his eyes lingering on the gentle dance of the flames. "You know, history or something like that. Get kids excited about the past, make them see how it affects their present and future."
Sheila found herself looking at him in a new light. The idea of this former fighter pilot standing in front of a classroom full of students was oddly touching. It highlighted a softer side of him—one she hadn't seen before.
Before she could voice her thoughts, their conversation was interrupted by the return of their waiter carrying two plates of sizzling steaks and a mound of golden fries. The aroma of the sizzling meat filled her nostrils, making her stomach grumble with anticipation.
"Ah, thank you," Finn said as the waiter placed the plates on their table, followed by condiments and extra napkins.
As they began to eat, Sheila stole a glance at Finn. She wondered if he and Natalie had ever dated. Natalie had never expressed any romantic interest in Finn, at least not to Sheila, and Sheila found herself wondering why. Finn was good-looking, brave, kind, and, as she was discovering, more complex than she'd initially thought. It was difficult to ignore the fluttering sensation in her stomach every time he smiled at her. She tried to dismiss it as an effect of the adrenaline from the day’s investigation, but a small part of her knew that it was more.
It doesn't matter, she told herself. You don't have time to date, especially not a coworker. It'll just complicate your life. Besides…what if all his interest is just his way of showing sympathy because he feels bad about Natalie?
“What about you?” Finn asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “If you weren’t in law enforcement, what would you be doing? Other than kickboxing, I mean.”
Sheila wasn’t sure she would go back to kickboxing if she were not on the force—she’d been warned by doctors that any more head trauma could lead to lasting damage.
"I think I'd like to work with animals," Sheila said after a moment's thought, pushing a fry through the pool of ketchup on her plate. "Maybe horses, like my mom."
“Rescuing them or training them?"
"Both," she replied, her eyes lighting up at the thought. "I could start a rehabilitation center for abused and abandoned horses. Maybe even bring in kids who are struggling and let them help with the rehab. You know, give them a sense of responsibility and show them they can make a difference."
"I think you'd be great at that."
She chuckled, scratching the back of her neck. "It's just a dream."
"For now," Finn said. "Doesn't mean it won't happen someday."
They both fell silent as they ate. Jazz music filled the air, accompanied by the murmur of conversations and the clink of silverware.
Sheila glanced at her phone and noticed a text from her father. seen Star lately?
Sheila recalled the girl she had glimpsed at the gym that morning. I think she came by the gym today, she wrote back. But she left before I could talk with her.
Skittish, her dad wrote back. but if shes showing up at all, thats progress.
Sheila didn’t know much about Star beyond a vague sense that Star’s home life was far from stable. It was odd, the sense of responsibility Sheila felt for someone she hardly knew. Where did it come from? Was it simply a part of her nature, an extension of her drive to help and protect?
Or did she feel the need to earn someone else’s respect so that she didn’t have to earn her own?
She decided to send Star a quick message: Hey. thought I saw you at the gym this morning. You’re welcome any time—no pressure. She considered adding more, maybe something about training Star, but she decided to send the message as it was.
No need to overwhelm the young teenager.
