Page 167 of Oddly Fine

“Years of wading through chaos and bullshit?”

She broke into a small smile, and it was the most beautiful thing. A ray of light in an otherwise very grey, cold kitchen.

“I’d really like it if you stopped risking life and limb—the both of you,” she told Hayes and Beckett, looking between them. “But—thank you for helping him. And for bringing him back home,” she told Beckett, her gaze much kinder than expected. She reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

He nodded; afraid his voice would crack if he tried to speak.

She took one more deep breath, as if bracing herself for going another round, then turned to Matthew. He sat up in his seat and fidgeted nervously, obviously not yet ready to deal with such a look.

“You are not who I would have picked for my son—” she said, showing no hesitation—refusing to mince her words. “But love has a funny way of sneaking up on us,” she acknowledged. “So welcome to the family, Matthew,” she told him. Even though it was a far cry from the way she’d welcomed Hayes only a few months ago, it was a helluva lot better than Beckett had expected. And Matthew agreed, judging by his shy smile.

With that, Cynthia stood and rubbed her hands together briskly.

“I think—I think I need to lie down for a few minutes,” she said, looking between all of them. “But when I wake up, you all better still be here. Understood?”

They all nodded in perfect unison.

“Good,” she said approvingly. “Your father’s going to be furious,” she told Franklin like he ought to be scared.

“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledged with a shaky smile.

Walking right out of the kitchen without looking back, she clearly needed some time to pull herself together. Maybe even go scream into a pillow.

“Fuckkkk,” Franklin breathed out slowly and grimaced once he heard the door of her bedroom close.

“All things considered, it went rather well, no?” Matthew said, his hand gently squeezing the back of Franklin’s neck.

“My dad is going to be furious—and the next year is going to be hell—” he said, not quite as positive or optimistic as Matthew.

“Look at it this way—if Dad kills you for making Mom cry—you’ve already got the headstone!” Leave it to Beckett to look at the bright side in tough situations.

Franklin was the only one who refused to laugh.

In the end, their father was thrilled and relieved to have his son back, which overshadowed any anger he’d felt at Franklin’s deception. There were lots of back slaps, a few tight hugs, and a couple of tears, but overall Franklin’s reception went smoothly. John was a bit warmer towards Matthew than Cynthia had been, but he didn’t invite him to go fishing either.

Later in the day, the rest of the Théraults showed up. Now that was entertaining. For the first time in his life, Beckett actually took a backseat to the action. Jackson and Maggie tore into Franklin for his little stunt, then turned their ire on Matthew. Both men got their asses chewed thoroughly, and all the while, Beckett simply sat and enjoyed the show. Adding fuel to the fire every now and again with comments such as, “And the fucker even has a dog now!” or “Tell them about the live stream of the funeral!” Hayes stayed by his side, seemingly content to just—exist in this chaos he called his family. Several hours passed before the interrogation ended. And that was only because of the lateness of the hour and their early morning flights back to the US.

When they drove Matthew and Franklin back to Matthew’s place, Franklin was still in the doghouse with most of the family for his disappearing/dying act. Beckett and Hayes figured the clever little shit would come up with something to get the family to forgive him. He’d been a master manipulator his entire life, so why stop now? Not that Matthew didn’t have his own bag of tricks; he was a slick bastard. Those two asshats deserved one another to Beckett’s way of thinking, and Hayes was totally behind him on that, too.

Beckett was grateful—but he kept that to himself. God forbid that Franklin should ever catch wind of it. He’d never let him live it down. Fucker.

Chapter 32

“I swear, if this goddamned condo is bugged again, and Pantouffle found the fucking thing like last time, I’m flat out confessing to murder and waiting to get picked up. I’m so fucking tired, I’ll just sleep in prison!” With an exhausted sigh, Beckett dropped his go bag at the door and toed off his boots—thankfully, Special Agent Gentry had kept her word and returned them to him.

Pantouffle was not eyeing anything suspiciously, however. She came trotting over as they walked in, weaving herself through Beckett’s legs in a plea for attention. They’d asked their neighbour to feed her while they were gone—Mrs. Plumb owed him for his part in rescuing her cat the previous fall—but Pantouffle obviously missed them. Or at least their open admiration.

“Helloooo beautiful,” he crooned softly, picking her up and petting her as she settled in his arms. She shifted a few times, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. Then she sniffed him, sneezed twice in quick succession, and swatted his face before jumping out of his arms. It was, without a doubt, the most vicious behavior she’d ever displayed.

“What the actual fuck!” he said, watching her race off and disappear down the hall.

“Wow!” Hayes exclaimed, amazed and amused. “That was—”

“What the hell? What did I do?” Beckett asked, confused. She’d always been a little—particular with others, but with him? Never!

Hayes chuckled and leaned forward. Beckett looked up, ready to receive a kiss, only to find he’d been left hanging as Hayes sniffed him instead.

“You smell like dog,” he determined quickly, scrunching his nose and frowning. “She probably feels like you cheated on her with Nickel.”