“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell if I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, or if I’m just worried about how this will change things.”

“Change things? Are they worried about his recovery?”

Finn pushed out a breath; he seemed frustrated with himself as he shook his head. “No, but my Gram mentioned closing the B&B.” His hand constricted on the side of the door, so even though his words were said almost offhand, I could tell this was a big deal.

“Oh.” I rubbed the heel of my hand down my thigh to my knee. “I don’t mean to pry, but is that a problem?”

His throat worked in a swallow. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be, but it is.” He closed the door, and I figured that was the end of the conversation, even though I had tons of questions.

I said nothing when he got in and turned the car on. I’d been pulling information out of him that he didn’t seem to want to give, so I just stayed quiet this time.

A minute or two passed. The radio was on from our drive here, but wasn’t loud. More like elevator music—not enough to fill the silence. I felt terrible. For Finn and his grandparents. For pushing as much as I had. For wanting to know more but not knowing how to ask. I stretched my neck to the side and glanced out the passenger window for something to do.

“It’s just that this is how it's always been, and it’s been going great. I don’t see the need to change things.”

I nodded, but really I was shocked he’d spoken. “You really love what you do.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I like it.”

That was a lackluster response.

Alright, I needed to decide now. Was I diving all in to my stint as a detective in search of Finn’s real feelings? Or, more importantly, was I just being morbidly curious for myself or to help him? He didn’t deserve a passing acquaintance digging into his personal life just because he was unlucky enough to have me along when he went to see his grandparents. It wasn’t fair to push if I wasn’t going to help.

Yeah, I didn’t need to know. I had an inkling that whatever he wasn’t saying right now was more than I was prepared to take on.

But one glance at his face, at how his jaw was tense and his hands tight on the wheel, shifted my perspective. This wasn’t about me, I could get over my discomfort for a second and try to help.

So, I hiked my left leg up a little and turned in my seat to watch his reactions more closely. He shot a curious glance at me but said nothing.

“Like. You said youlikeyour job. Why are you worried about it changing if you don't love it?”

“I don’t think I like how you’re looking at me.”

“Too bad, I’m locked in now. And you’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I just said a word, and you’re digging in like I’m a cold case and you’re itching to prove yourself at the FBI or something.”

How kind of him to notice my skills for what they were. I once found out where my friend’s ex lived, so I could think about egging his house. Shelly didn’t deserve the jerky way he’d treated her. In the end, I hadn’t been brave enough to do it. But I stared daggers at that little address on Google Earth for days.

I digress.

“Words matter, and you corrected me when I said you loved your job. Do you?”

He sighed, but gave in as all perps would under a good detective. “I like it.” He shot me a look. “Yes, like. I don’t plan on being a tour guide for the rest of my life, but it’s a good job, and I’m good at it.”

I nodded along. “Okay. So, what else would you do if you weren’t a tour guide anymore?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ll figure that out when I need to.”

I hesitated before saying what I was thinking. “But you might need to now.”

There. He winced. So that was the problem. “You don’t like being forced into figuring it out right now?”

His jaw flexed, and I was sure he was about to shut me down. “You're pretty good at this, you know?”

I leanedthe side of my head against the headrest. “Are you deflecting again?”