Adjusting the bodice of her sundress, she scrambled to her feet. To head him off, she rushed forward, then slowed to avoid arousing suspicion.
“Time to eat?” she asked as they neared each other.
“That was quite the tumble,” he said, panting from the exertion. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, conscious of Finn still within the shed only ten feet behind her.
He wrinkled his brow and scrutinized her. “What hurts?”
“Seriously, I’m good.” She retied her hair and straightened her shell necklace. The slightest dishevelment might cause him to worry that her neurons had been misfiring.
“Your patellae took the brunt of it.”
Lily lifted the hem of her dress, and the sight of dirt-streaked crimson triggered a stinging sensation. If Kristian discovered Finn now with that cage uncovered, the confrontation might provide some answers, but the fallout for Finn wouldn’t be worth it. As head of pediatric neurology at Memorial Sloan Kettering, Kristian was closer to Rollie, an internist with his own practice. Surely Kristian would tell their father that Finn had been nosing around.
She had to draw Kristian away from the shed.
“Can you help me find a bandage?”
“Yes, but your heart rate may still be elevated.” He took her wrist to gauge her pulse.
“I’m not that frail,” she said but didn’t pull away. Her petite stature, in comparison to the Gettler men—Finn and Rollie were more than six feet tall, and Kristian’s heft made up for him slightly missing the mark—didn’t help her case.
“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand. “You can take the doctor out of the hospital, but . . .”
She smiled gently. “God knows I’ve given you a few scares.”
He raised his sunglasses and peered at her, his sky-blue eyes cluttered by long lashes. “Finn said your anxiety has been worse lately.”
Avoiding his probing stare, she studied her hands, which made her feel more self-conscious. Her nails were whittled down to the flesh.
Kristian tapped his hawk-like nose. “You’ll call me if you find yourself checking more than six squares on that chart?”
“I promised I would.” Just this morning, while Finn had been in the shower, she’d taken out the laminated checklist of “Signs of Depression/Anxiety” and had shaded eight of the ten boxes. Then she’d wiped the sheet clean.
His gaze shifted to a spider, spinning a web beneath the eaves of the flat roof. “Like cancer, mental illnesses are treatable. Neither should prevent you from joining our family.”
Her smile fell. Fourteen years apart in age, the half brothers had grown up separately and now had little in common. Yet clearly Finn had shared with him her reservations about marriage.
The extent of his family’s knowledge about her medical issues and their relationship had always been disconcerting. Considering how private they all were, it was pretty hypocritical.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” Kristian ducked his chin in apology. “It’s just that I see how much he loves you.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “All we’re guaranteed is the present. Yes, you almost died. Twice. But you also received two second chances, thanks to science. Make the most of them.”
She blinked to hold back the tears. Only Kristian, with his oddly calming black-and-white perceptions, could address her this way. Whenever Finn tried to tell her to stop worrying, the conversation quickly shifted to an argument that ended in deadlock.
“Enough about that.” He let his arms swing to his sides. “Where’s Finny? Mom won’t start her birthday dinner without him, and her pain’s an eight. We need to get her to bed soon.”
Lily had always admired Kristian’s devotion to his stepmother, despite his job and own family’s demands. His birth mother had died from congenital heart failure when he was only seven. Two years into a Doctors Without Borders trip to Cambodia, Rollie met Sylvia, an International Red Cross volunteer from Romania. Rollie brought her to the United States to meet his son, and six months later, they married at City Hall.
According to Finn, from the start, Sylvia had viewed Kristian as her own, so it made sense that he adored her. Still, even biological sons often aren’t that dedicated to their moms. Finn tried, but there was little he could do to alleviate her ever-worsening arthritis, nerve palsies, and polyneuropathy—all side effects of her chronic Lyme disease. Seven years ago, she’d been bitten by a tick carrying a rare, antibiotic-resistant strain of the virulent bacteria Borrelia burgdorferi.
“He can’t have gone far.” She sidled over to the fence and peered down at the beach. “Milo was bugging him earlier to go crabbing. Maybe they’re at the tidal pools.”
Kristian shook his head. “Milo’s at the kitchen table, doing his pre-calc enrichment.”
“Really? You should give Boy Genius a day off now and then.”
“He’s can’t. He’s got big shoes to fill someday,” he said, without any indication it was a joke, and glanced at the shed. “Maybe Finn’s in there”—he arched his dark eyebrows, laced with unruly gray—“and you were about to meet him for a—”
The door swung open.
“Hey,” Finn said, squinting.
She locked her gaze on his eyes, searching for evidence that the bats had shocked him as much as they had her.
He looked away and twisted the visor of his Mets cap back to the front, and she sensed he was hiding something.
“What were you doing?” Kristian asked.
“Looking for my belaying kit.” Finn tucked his chin-length, sandy brown hair behind his ears. “You seen it?”
“Yeah, I used it last weekend at the Gunks, when I had nothing better to do with my day off.”
Finn fake-laughed. “That sense of humor. I’m so jealous. Is dinner ready?”
“The steaks have probably cooled twenty degrees by now, and I still need to treat those scrapes on Lily’s knees.”
“I’ll do it,” Finn offered.
“That’s outside your wheelhouse, Finny. Besides, you need to conserve energy for dish duty, while the rest of us are enjoying dessert.”
“I’m not the one who needs to go light on the birthday cake.”
“My body fat percentage is modestly above the norm only because I’ve got a real job,” Kristian said over his shoulder
