Page 22 of True Colors

“He got impatient. Erin…you know that horrible woman who started a couple of months ago?” He nods. He knows. I tell him everything. “She talked over me. People snickered.” My voice trembles. “Luther…that’s the CEO, he told me, since I wasn’t able to present…I don’t deserve to own the data.”

Finn mutters curses so colorfully, I’m certain half the saints of Ireland are blushing.

“Say the word,” he growls, “and I’ll show up at HelixSphere with a hose and blast him through a window.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Please don’t.”

He leans forward, eyes warm. “You’re brilliant, Annie. You hear me? You’re the smartest person I know.”

“I don’t feel brilliant.”

He sets his beer bottle down on the coffee table, which we picked up in Guadalupe de Valle last Christmas.

Since we have no family, and it’s just us, we travel for the holidays, somewhere we dreamed of going as kids but never thought we would. Now, we both have well-paying jobs, and we’re determined to make some of those old dreams come true.

He puts an arm around me, draws me close. “You had a trauma spike. It happens. It doesn’t define you, Annie.”

I snuggle into him. “Dot said he wants me on this big project. You know, the one with Novagene.”

I tell Finn about my work, and he tells me about his. We talk about everything to each other.

Best friends. Siblings. Survivors.

He pulls back, a smile on his face. “Well then, the guy isn’t completely stupid.”

“Do you…ah…do you think he’s giving it to me because he was an ass to me?”

He cups my face and kisses my nose. “No, Annie. He’s giving it to you because you’re brilliant.”

Tears flow down my face. He wipes them.

“I’m scared,” I confess.

“Of messing up?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Of being seen?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

Finn’s expression softens. “You don’t have to be anyone but you. If they can’t see your worth, that’s on them—not you.”

“Really?”

He grins. “Yeah, Annie, really.” He gets up and pulls me along with him. “Come on, let’s eat. Get some meat on your bones.”

I laugh at that. Finn always makes the bad lessen in intensity. I do the same for him.

That night, when he says goodnight, I ask the question I always do. “Tell me one good thing that happened today.”

He flashes a grin. “Saved a cat stuck on a fire escape. Tiny gray fluffball with one eye and no concept of heights. She belonged to this blue-haired old lady, Mrs. Costanza.”

I smile. “That’s very superhero of you.”

“Obviously,” he says with a dramatic hair flip. “Mrs. Costanza cried and told me I reminded her of her late husband.”

I snort. “Because you saved her cat?”