Eight Hundred Grapes

Finn gave me a threatening look. “Tell him, Georgia,” he said.

“I guess,” I said, convincing no one.

“Come on, Ethan. Think about it. You think I’d let her drive my truck?”

Ethan looked back and forth between us, trying to decide if that was something he was willing to

accept, which was when his walkie-talkie went off, Ethan picking it up.

“We’re not done here,” he said, pointing to me. Then he turned to Finn. “But I will deal with Elliot for you, Finn.”

Finn smiled. “Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate it.”

Ethan smiled back, no one immune to Finn’s charms, female or male. “No problem, pal,” he said, heading out, giving me a look as he went.

Finn looked at me. “Way to narc on yourself.”

“I didn’t want to leave you in the cold.”

“I’ve got Ethan covered.”

I looked around the jail. “Obviously.”

Finn shrugged. “Yeah . . .”

We hadn’t spoken since our blowout and he looked uncomfortable. He was embarrassed about our fight, this stint in the city jail, apparently one of many stints. But what was there for him to say? The Ford children didn’t apologize to one another. We did what my mother had told us to do as children. We held out a hand and the other sibling had to take it. Everyone willing to move on.

This was what he did. He reached out his hand and took mine as he sat back down.

“My hands are a little clammy,” he said. “I haven’t washed them for twelve hours.”

“You really do suck at apologizing,” I said.

He smiled. “Thanks for coming to get me,” he said.

“You okay?”

“Yep. It’s no big deal. Just needed to dry out.”

“Ethan says you guys have a standing date, like a weekly poker game. Without the poker.”

He shrugged. “Ethan likes my company.”

I shook my head. “Finn . . .”

“You want to start, Miss Hit-and-Run?”

He shook his head, getting serious all of a sudden. And looking older than he was.

“I know. It’s going to stop. I’m stopping it.”

“How?”

“However I can,” he said.

Then he nodded, like he was resolved. Resolved and exhausted—done with his own nonsense, done with how he was feeling.

He looked down at his fingers, shaking his head. “Maybe it was sleeping here last night, but I keep thinking about the night before they got married. That wedding we crashed together. Do you remember?”