Page 34 of Scythe & Sparrow
Fionn’s reply is delivered with clinical detachment when he says, “Nothing much to report.”
Matt chuckles. My guts churn at the sound. I don’t know whether to burst out of the shadows and slash Matt’s fuck-ugly throat or chase after Barbara to hide out in her trash panda den. “That’s not entirely true, is it? I understand you’ve got visitor staying with you. Someone not from around here. A woman with a broken leg.”
“Word certainly does get around among small towns, doesn’t it.”
“How’d she run into such a spell of trouble to wind up at your house?”
“Mr. Cranwell,” Fionn says on a sigh. “You know I’m not at liberty to discuss a patient with you.”
“I’m not asking about her condition. I’m asking about how she got there.”
“Considering she’s not here to answer for herself, I’m not about to detail her circumstances to someone she’s never met.” There’s a pause. I imagine Fionn giving him a stern look. I can picture with perfect clarity the way his eyes can turn as sharp as the cutting edge of a polished gem, so beautiful but still able to draw blood. “It wouldn’t be very professional of me, would it?”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Matt concedes, though his submission is not convincing. “I’m just looking out for you. Making sure you’re all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just never know who you might be dealing with, that’s all. Outsiders can cause trouble.”
“No more so than ‘insiders.’ Isn’t that right?” I know Fionn well enough to know that I’ve never heard him sound like this. The words are simple, direct. They’re delivered with coolness, an eerie sense of calm. But beneath them is an undercurrent. A lethality. A warning to stay away.Or else.
I might not be able to see their faces, but the tension between the two men feels ready to ignite. A curtain of unease descends, thick enough that I’m sure I could cut it with the blade clutched in my hand.
“Your postoperative recovery seems to be going well. There are no signs of infection or swelling,” Fionn finally says. His voice is still cool, but it’s lost the deadly bite in the tone. “I’ll prescribe some tramadol for you.”
“No need, Dr. Kane,” Matt says. “I’d better stay alert. You know, busy time of year and all. I’ve got to stay vigilant. On my toes.”
Fionn says nothing. I imagine the deferential nod he probably gives Matt, the way he watches and considers and gives only what he needs to in a tense situation. He’ll be careful, calm. But he’ll be roiling under that detached exterior. I know there’s another side to him, buried beneath what he lets me see. And this time I can feel it, lingering in the air like musk.
I shift farther into the shadows when I hear footsteps, coming face-to-face with a photo of Fionn and two other men who have similar features. Dark hair. High cheekbones. Shining smiles. Blue eyes, each shade unique, the color of Fionn’s the lightest of them all. They link arms over one another’s shoulders. They’re his brothers in Boston, Rowan and Lachlan, whom he’s spoken of only briefly. I step closer to the photo as a set of curt goodbyes reaches me from the entrance. Even in a moment frozen in time, I can see the love and happiness that radiates from each of them. And Fionn has come all this way, chosen to separate himself from his brothers and his home, just for a chance to heal a broken heart. Maybe a chance to hide the side of himself he doesn’t want anyone to see.
What if I’m tearing his sanctuary apart?
The front door of the clinic closes and a moment later, Fionn returns. I realize before I exit his office that I recognize him by the cadence of his steps alone. He stops in front of me, and I try to smile. But guilt is starting to chew a little hole in my heart.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes pinned to mine.
“Yeah. Are you?”
I don’t know what I expect him to say. But I know for sure that the last thing I expect is for him to wrap me in an embrace.His arms are tense around me. Protective and sheltering. I’m so surprised that it takes a moment for me to return the gesture. As soon as I do, his heart jumps a beat beneath my ear. A little of the tension in Fionn subsides, as though he didn’t realize how much he needed this too. Something about that aches in my chest. Maybe I tighten my grip around him just a little. Press my face to his chest a little harder. Close my eyes as I take in his scent, sage and citrus warmed by the sun. There’s maybe a hint of raccoon too, but I let that slide with a faint smile.
We stay like that for a long while. When we separate, Fionn checks the front door of the clinic, making sure Matt is long gone before he beckons me to follow. He lifts me into the truck like he always does. He seems nervous to drop me off at home, where I’ll be alone, but after at least five or six reassurances that I’ll be okay, he leaves for the hospital to get his first rabies shot.
It isn’t until later that evening, when I’m lying in bed and staring into the dark, that I realize something.
He never answered my question.
I don’t know if he’s really okay.
BEAST MODE
Fionn
The lights are low. Music pumps through the speakers. The smell of sweat and beer and bourbon permeates the air as I make my way through the crowd. My grip tightens on the handle of my bag, and I push past the people talking and laughing as they wait for the show to begin.
Maybe I shouldn’t like this environment. I know what’s about to come, after all. It’s not really the kind of thing a man like me should condone. But the truth is, I love coming to these Blood Brothers fights. The split flesh to mend. A glimpse of bone. It’s raw and visceral. This is humanity at its bloody core, fights hidden in the dark. My job might be on the sidelines, to fix the damage done during the bare-knuckled fights in a makeshift ring in a rundown barn, but I enjoy it, nonetheless. I’m close enough to feel the adrenaline of the battles and rivalries, and just far enough that I don’t become a different man from the one I chose to be.
And maybe it will take my mind off Rose.
