“What do you mean?”
“Her promiscuity is getting out of hand, Finn. Surely you have to see it?” Every word dripped with disdain.
Finn snorted, but the snake in his chest rose higher. “Promiscuity? What’s this, the 50s? You and her have always been different. You’re the quiet book nerd, she’s the outgoing wild child. You’re oil, she’s water.”
“I’m not a prude.”
“Hey.” Finn held his hands up. “I never said you were.”
“But?”
“But I think you’re being kind of a jerk about her.”
Will lurched upright like he’d been punched in the face. Good. He needed a dose of reality.
“What?” Will’s eyes widened like it was the first time Finn had ever disagreed with him about something. It probably was, but he wasn’t going to let him bash Molly in his presence. Not anymore.
“I’m just like her. For years, I fucked damn near anything in a skirt.”
“That’s—”
Finn held up a hand, a bubbling in his stomach forcing him to suck in a deep breath. “Don’t you dare tell me that’s different because I have a dick and she doesn’t, Will Morrison.”
He had the courtesy to blush and avert his stare. But Finn wasn’t letting it drop.
“It’s not different. It’s the same thing. I’m a ‘manwhore.’” He made bunny ears with his fingers. He hated the term. He hated any term that was derogatory about someone’s sex life. Some people liked sex, some people didn’t, but no one needed to be labeled because of it.
“And it’s celebrated as this great thing – by guys and girls alike. So your sister likes sex, big deal. As long as she’s safe and she’s not asking you to join in, or watch…” He shrugged. “Where’s the harm? Just ‘cause you don’t approve of her life choices doesn’t mean you get to slam them. That’s dickish.”
Finn dropped the spoon onto the table and pushed the bowl of cereal back to Will. “I’m going for a run.”
Will opened his mouth to speak, but Finn shook his head. “You need to do some serious soul searching here, man. You should be in her corner, screaming ‘Fuck the patriarchy’ from atop the highest building. Not this…” He waved an open hand at Will and left him to stew in his mood.
***
“Finnegan O’Brien.”
Finn jolted to his feet at the mention of his name and strode toward the tall, blonde nurse with the clipboard. The clinical, hospital smell somehow permeated every doctor’s office he’d ever stepped into. Did they bottle it and sell it as air freshener to every health care provider in the world? Was it a universal cleaning product?
His stomach sloshed like an overfilled mug of coffee. He swallowed twice but it didn’t help. He smoothed out his sweatpants.
“Follow me please.”
He made his way through the near-empty waiting room, dodging a toddler on wobbly legs as he crossed to where the nurse waited.
“Do you have a good arm?” She spoke with her back to him as she collected whatever equipment she needed to draw blood.
He shrugged when she turned back to him. He had no idea. Other than needing to be stitched up from time to time after a particularly brutal game of hockey, or some deep tissue work from a pulled muscle every now and then, he was healthier than a horse.
He had asked his mother to send him the details about his brother’s kidney problems. She’d emailed the information he needed about kidney transplants. He hadn’t replied to her when he’d received it, but he’d booked an appointment to start the testing process to see if he was a match.
The phlebotomist skillfully withdrew the blood she needed for the test without hesitation. If he hadn’t been watching the needle slide into his skin, he wouldn’t have known she’d started.
As his blood trickled into the vial, his stomach clenched. Would he go through with surgery and give his half-brother a kidney if he was a match? He pushed the question aside, when he had an answer on if he could even donate, he’d figure out what to do next.
“You’re all done.” She smiled at him, the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes deepening as she did. It was over before he could blink.
“Thanks.” He nodded and made his way outside into the fresh air. The thrashing in his stomach had calmed down enough for him to breathe easier. He’d taken the first step, either they’d be a match or they wouldn’t. Until he knew which it was, it didn’t bear worrying about. But that was easier said than done.
