Nine
Finn stormed back down the hallway and when people quickly stepped out of his way, he knew his expression was thunderous. Blocking off the memory of Beah’s tears, of the hurt he’d put on her face—again!—he slapped his hand onto the door of the conference room and pushed it open, glaring at the people sitting around the table.
Carrick was the first to react. “Finn? What’s the matter?”
Ronan stood up, placed his hands on the table and sent him a hard stare. Finn dropped into a chair and placed his head in his hands before pushing the balls of his hands into his burning eye sockets.
“What’s going on, Finn?” Carrick repeated his question.
God, he felt like a ten-day smoldering heap of trash.
From a place far away, he heard Carrick ordering the staff to leave and when Ronan shoved a cup of hot black coffee under his nose, he dropped his hands to push the cup away.
“What happened?” Carrick asked, worry in his eyes.
“We are calling off Ben and Piper’s wedding. She’s sicker than we thought and she’s too weak to fly to Boston.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Carrick said, placing his hand on Finn’s shoulder. Finn shrugged it off and abruptly stood, needing to pace.
“How much time do they think she has?” Ronan asked.
“Not as much as we thought.” Finn’s heart broke for Ben. “I couldn’t ask for specifics. But I need to go to Hong Kong. They are still getting married and I told Ben I’d be there.”
“When do you want to leave?” Carrick asked. “I’ll contact our pilot and get him to file a flight plan.”
“Today, tonight, as soon as possible,” Finn replied, trying to think. “I’m going to go home, pack and then I’ll head to the airport.”
Carrick nodded and picked up his phone to send a text. Finn linked his hands behind his neck and caught Ronan’s eye. He bristled at the sympathy he saw in those eyes so like his own. “What?”
“Is Beah going with you?” Ronan asked.
Finn released a sound that was a cross beneath a laugh and a growl. “Why would you think that?” he demanded, surprised at his jumping heart. He’d thought that organ was dead and gone.
“Because you were organizing the wedding together. Because you are sleeping together. Because you love her. Because we don’t want you to be alone,” Ronan said, using his calm-down-client voice.
Finn glared at his brother. “We’re bed buddies, Ronan, nothing to get excited about. There’s nothing between us but sex.”
If he could start to believe what he was telling himself, really take it on board, maybe he could function without Beah.
Ronan let out a bark of laughter before rolling his eyes. “You are talking such crap, Finn, and you know it. Beah should be with you—you need her.”
“I don’t need anyone!” Finn pushed the words out. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
Carrick and Ronan exchanged a long look and Finn debated which of them to hit first. Did it matter? Releasing some of his roiling anger—this sticky, sour hurt—via his fists connecting with his brother’s faces would make him feel much better.
“You punch us and we’ll punch you back,” Carrick told him, in a super-reasonable, super-genial tone. It just made Finn want to smack him harder.
But he didn’t have time to rumble with his brothers and he didn’t want to rock up at the wedding, even if it was low-key, with a black eye or split cheek. He had to get his brothers off his case, move them onto another subject, and he knew exactly how to do that.
Yeah, it meant throwing Beah under the bus but what the hell.
“Beah is thinking about leaving Murphy’s and joining Michael Summers.”
Neither of his brothers looked surprised and Finn felt his temper, already bubbling, heat a few degrees. “You knew?”
Carrick shrugged. “We’ve been hearing rumors.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”