Page 56 of Faultlines

Before I can protest, Jensen appears behind him. Unlike Reid, Jensen doesn’t bother pretending this is optional. “You need a beer.”

“I need peace.”

Jensen points toward the parking lot. “You can have peace tomorrow. Tonight we’re having some guy time,” he says with a smile.

I suppose a beer sounds better than an evening spent in my head, so I grab my jacket. “This is a terrible idea.”

Reid grins. “The best ideas usually are.”

The heavy hardwood door groans as we push open the door to the pub, revealing a warm, inviting glow. The place is busy without being crowded. A baseball game plays on several televisions with no sound. A rich, comforting smell of burgers and fried food, mingled with the faint tang of stale beer, fills the air.

Maybe Reid knows what he is doing after all, dragging me here.

Judging by the look Jensen shares with him as we find a table, I suspect neither of them invited me here to talk about architecture. I’m guessing the beer will not be the most dangerous part of the evening.

Before anyone can speak, Jensen heads to the bar to order drinks. A few minutes later, the first round arrives, and he raises his glass to us. “To surviving the week.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Reid says. I tap my bottle against both of theirs, then take a long pull.

Jensen is halfway through a story about a man who wandered into the emergency department not wearing any pants when his attention shifts to the sidewalk outside the pub.

I turn toward the front, a warm draft sweeps in as the door opens. A tall, auburn-haired man in his mid-thirties, wearing thick, black-rimmed glasses, stands at the entrance of the bar, holding open the door as he scans the interior.

He’s dressed casually in jeans and a dark button-down shirt. There’s something polished yet awkward about him that makes him stand out, like a freshly pressed shirt in a pile of laundry. The warm glow of the pub lights catches the subtle red in his hair.

When he enters, Jensen raises a hand, giving him a casual wave. “Evening, Doc.”

The gentleman glances around, his eyes scanning the room over the rim of his glasses, before spotting Jensen. A smile spreads across his face, and he changes direction, his stride purposeful. “Jensen.”

He reaches the table and shakes Jensen’s hand with a firm, professional grip. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Jensen replies.

Jensen gestures toward the rest of them. “Dr. Tierney, this is my friend Reid and my brother-in-law Ethan.”

We all exchange greetings.

“Please call me Finn. Nice to meet you both,” he says.

“You too,” we say in unison.

I grin. “Sloane may have already mentioned you. She’s come up with some pretty... entertaining nicknames.”

His cheeks pink. “That doesn’t bode well.”

Jensen laughs, a booming sound that draws a few glances from nearby tables.

Finn shakes his head. The conversation flows easily for a few minutes. He appears relaxed and personable, nothing like the intimidating specialist I imagined when Lucy and Sloane first mentioned him months ago.

“Are you up for joining us?” Jensen asks eventually, gesturing to the empty chair beside him.

He glances toward the dining area. “No, thank you. I’m meeting my brother.”

“Family dinner?”

“Something like that,” he replies.

“Offer stands if he bails,” Jensen tells him.