hush in the whole place. I feel my face heat stupidly as everyone’s eyes shoot up to us. Finn lights the place up with a megawatt of a panty-melting smile. “Ladies and gents, we’ll be right back. If you need for anything, just shout.”
“I need a refill on Coca-Cola,” a man calls, raising his cup of ice.
Finn misses a step, clearly not expecting someone to be immune enough to his estrogen-surging smile to have enough faculties to ask for something. “That so?” He reverses direction, releasing me only long enough to snag the man’s drink. Then he’s passing me, ordering, “Follow me, swayt hart.”
Dutifully, I trail after him as he makes a beeline for the soda bank. “I really am fine.”
“No, you aren’t,” Finn tells me. He takes his eyes from the filling cup to pin me with a look over his shoulder. “And you haven’t been.”
I feel all the blood drain from my over-warm face. Icy ants bite along my skin. “What do you mean?”
“Do you have insurance?” he asks quietly, kindly not making eye contact as he turns around and moves to deliver the drink to the customer.
I wander behind him, skin turning clammy.
After setting down the drink and checking on the other patrons, Finn swiftly crosses to the kitchen and calls out Donal. “Change of plans. Watch tables. Sue and I will be right back.”
Without a word, Donal moves back out to the pub section and stands over the tables, crossing his thickly-muscled arms.
Finn makes a disgusted noise. “Mate, you look like you’re a prison guard. Feckin’ smile, would ja?”
Donal bares his teeth.
“Not like that. And drop your arms,” Finn commands.
Donal does, clasping his hands in front of himself in a pose of hulking servility—but he separates his middle finger very pointedly from his clenched-clasped fists and makes direct eye contact with Finn, who grins.
“Better,” Finn calls cheerily. And then he takes my hand. “You. Let’s make this quick.”
He leads us to the break room and walks us to the lockers. Not mine, though. He moves toward one of the large ones in the corner, opening it not by using the combination lock but by bringing the meat of his closed fist against it, knocking it open.
“That’s not very secure,” I point out faintly.
He reaches inside, shrugging. “It doesn’t have to be. It’s medical supplies, and nothing anybody can have much fun with.” He draws out a brace, and takes my arm.
I want to protest—but a brace really would be nice. “Thanks,” I say quietly.
“Okay, back to the question. Insurance?” he asks, eyes flashing to mine.
I shake my head. “I’m self-pay.”
“Have you checked in with your doctor to find out if this is carpal tunnel?” He expertly fits my hand in the brace, refusing to let me suit myself in it by gently brushing my other hand away. Carefully, he tightens it.
“I haven’t asked because if he says yes, I can’t really do surgery,” I explain. “And even when the laws forced everyone to be insured, I had such a crappy plan that if I needed surgery, I can pretty much guarantee that I’d be footing just about all of the bill.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not right.”
“It really isn’t,” I agree, lips pursing. “If I had been allowed to skip insurance these last couple of years? I could have pocketed the money I was made to pay out for it and I could have afforded the surgery myself.” I shake my head, aggravated. “I need to get a second job in order to cover what the stupid plans ought to cover in the first place.”
Finn’s forehead is pinched. “I’m sorry, Sue.”
I shrug uncomfortably. “It is what it is.”
Finn is still holding me by the brace, his touch light. “Tell me if whatever is happening gets worse. We might be able to help.”
My eyes shoot to his. “I can’t take—”
Finn rolls his eyes. “You won’t be taking. We’ve got all sorts of ways you can make extra income.”
I stare at him, eyes widening. “Like… drugs?”
Finn sputters, “What?” He makes a face at me that almost makes me laugh. “No! Just—totally legit busy work, all right?”
I nod, biting my lip.
Finn’s other hand closes on my shoulder and he leans in. “Don’t let it get worse. Just tell me. You won’t lose your job, I promise.” His eyes search mine. “Trust me?”
I find that I do. And this realization has me taking in an easier breath. “Yeah. I do.”