Finn woke up thrashing, in enough pain that he was halfway out of the uncomfortable couch in Delila's living room with a bottle of painkillers in his palm before he fully came to consciousness. Moonlight streamed through a break in the curtains. They were thick and black, nothing flimsy or filmy like he'd expected her to use in her home. But, then again, nothing was quite what he'd expected.

He grimaced, rubbing his thigh before he blinked back the haze of his foggy nightmares. He couldn't have been out for long. At least only long enough to drudge up his past, until his memories were nice and fresh while his body tensed, pulsing with phantom pain.

He threw the prescription back into his unzipped duffel bag and looked up toward the ceiling. Pills would only shove the trauma down until it bubbled up worse the next time. The doctors had said—

"Forget what they'd said—"

Finn reached for his phone. He shouldn't have fallen asleep without getting the security installation settled so Delila wouldn't have to think about it. Back in his hometown for a matter of hours, and he'd already grown lazy on the job.

"Screw up," he muttered as he dialed the first number from memory and pressed the phone to his ear. "Come on, pick up. I know one of your sorry asses is awake."

The front door pushed open and Delila came into the hallway carrying a large plastic box filled with mail. Probably couldn't sleep. Which only rammed home his guilt and sense of weakness for taking a little cat nap. She waved at him, cocking her head.

"Hey," he mouthed and grabbed the nearest throw pillow to cover his lap. "I'll only be a couple minutes."

Not even his nightmares stopped male biology. He avoided looking down at the tent in his shorts and looked straight at the wall.

"No problem," she said softly before her steps continued down the hallway into the kitchen.

The phone cradled in his palm seemed insanely warm as he listened to the jingle-jangle of the ringer. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want anyone to pick up. Then he'd have to give his brothers an explanation—about what had happened, why he was back, and whatever else made them curious.

A level of invasiveness he couldn't deal with right now.

"Hello?"

"Tucker? It's Finn, I'm back in town for a little while and I need your help, brother. You willing and able?"

"What time and where do I have to be? You want Alcide? A two for one package deal?"

A no questions asked, no nonsense answer was just what he needed to hear tonight. Finn let out a long breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and stopped trying to suppress his cheesy grin.

"We're doing some extensive security over at Uncle Paul's old farm. Bring all our blueprints, park on the road, and knock on the door to the farmhouse. Whatever you do, don't go near the outbuildings."

"Roger." Brisk, to the point, and Finn could tell his brother's head was on the job.

Finn was about swipe his finger across the screen to end the call when Tucker cleared his throat and he put the phone back up to his ear. There was a shuffle on the other side of the line. As if he'd adjusted or moved the phone to another shoulder.

"It's good to have you home, Finn. For whatever reason."

Unable to say the same about being back, Finn tossed the throw pillow across the room to the other matching couch. It landed with a smack. What his family didn't know would hurt them. Best to keep his past as close to the vest as possible.

"I missed you too."

There was a giant crash from the kitchen. Delila shrieked.