Page 108 of Oddly Fine

Matthew waved to the man, who looked up from the pan and stopped the flipping motions. Then he signed to Matthew in ASL and turned back to the stove.

“Will Agent Monroe be joining us?”

Beckett detected a hint of annoyance when he said Hayes’ name. Probably because he hadn’t enjoyed being cornered by Beckett’s better half and having his ass handed to him. Beckett smiled to himself as he briefly relived that special moment.

“Don’t know. Woke up before me. Probably went for a run,” Beckett said, as he sat down at the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe. It hadn’t exactly been a surprise to wake up to an empty bed. Even after having begged for sleep, Hayes was usually an early riser.

“Does he do that often? Or do I anger him that much?” Matthew asked, abandoning all pretense of studying his phone and sitting back to look at Beckett.

Beckett snorted in amusement.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Daisy’s a SEAL through and through. The sky could be falling, and he’d go for a run.” It was easy to forget the kind of training they’d both been put through, and the impact it had on their lives—but especially in Hayes’ case. Once you got to know him, it was impossible to miss. Beckett’s military path had been—unorthodox. They’d been put through their paces alright. While he truly admired the SEALs, the Force Recon guys, and the Green Berets he’d encountered over the years, he couldn’t deny his own path had been drastically different. Their training had been hardcore, but far less regimented than that of SEALs. Their training had been based more on survival. Kill or be killed—quite literally, and to such an extent that both the Canadian military and US military would rather not divulge any details regarding their specialized training to the public.

“You don’t subscribe to the same level of masochism?” Matthew asked, and fuck all if Beckett didn’t hear Franklin’s perspective in that sand trap of a question. Copycat bastard.

“I’m more of a sadist, myself,” he replied with a sickeningly sweet grin.

Kyle slid a mountain of scrambled eggs onto his plate, along with an artery-clogging pile of bacon. Beckett’s ASL skills were pretty rusty, but he gave it his best shot trying to say thanks. Kyle smiled, so Beckett figured he’d gotten it right.

“Kyle has been a part of my staff for a decade.” Matthew sipped his coffee, his expression telling Beckett, “You can speak freely. I trust him.”

“That’s very reassuring. But I have nothing new to share. Unfortunately, I’m not one of the three muses—the oracle did not bless me with some kind of vision overnight—so whatever I know this morning, I knew last night.” Rolling his eyes at Matthew’s ploy, he shoveled eggs into his mouth, moaning as the amazing flavor hit his taste buds. Since when were eggs so fucking good?

“The muses?” Matthew parroted, amused. “Franklin said you were smarter than you looked.” Matthew looked over the rim of his cup at Beckett, frowning contemplatively.

Beckett glanced up and scowled.

“Yeah? I guess he told you lots about the family, huh?” He saw no reason to disguise the venom in his tone. He hated that his brother had trusted this sonofabitch more than he had his own family, and that chapped his ass more than just about anything else in this entire shit show. It wasn’t fair—wasn’t right—wasn’t anything he could change, but he fucking hated it.

“Not much,” Matthew replied, shaking his head, sounding deceptively honest. “He said your older brother—John?”

“Jackson,” Beckett corrected.

“Yes, Jackson. He said he was as honest and straightforward as they came. Like following the interstate. No off-road or by-pass needed.” There was a curve to his lips as he spoke that Beckett hadn’t quite decided if he agreed with or despised. “He spoke rather fondly of your parents. A good set of parents who got handed far more than they’d bargained for in terms of children and had done far better than could be expected, all things considered—”

“Franklin’s an asshole, just so you know. You really shouldn’t take anything he says at face value,” Beckett said, chewing his bacon viciously to alleviate his tension and distract him from an almost overwhelming impulse to punch Matthew.

“Of course. He mentioned that too.”

“He did?” Beckett was, admittedly, surprised to hear that.

“Of course. A classic self-aware narcissist. More likely to harm those he loved than to actually help them were his exact words. He warned me to stay welllll away from him from the outset. Just goes to show I don’t listen very well,” Matthew snorted and then continued. “He said the smartest one was Maggie. That it was criminal how she underestimated herself because she’d gotten caught up in all of your masculine energy. He was glad she’d found love early because she was—slightly hard to love at first.”

And fuck if Franklin hadn’t hit it right on the nose with her. Beckett felt a grudging kind of admiration for Franklin’s perceptions and insights.

“You don’t disagree,” Matthew said, appearing intrigued as he continued to sip his coffee.

“My brother’s a dick—but he isn’t stupid—most of the time anyway,” Beckett relented.

“No, he isn’t.” Matthew’s fondness for Franklin was revealed in his smile. “And then there was you, of course.”

“I’m well aware of my brother’s diagnosis,” Beckett stated coldly to shut him down. He didn’t need to hear any of it. He’d heard it all before.

“Are you?” Matthew asked.

Beckett wished he could believe the asshole’s interest was faked.

“Yes, I am. And fair warning, if I were you, I’d look both ways before getting on my last nerve this morning,” he warned his brother-in-law.