Finish Him: The Games of Love, #3

By M.T. DeSantis

Round 1: FLIRT!

 

When Sonya Black's sister is injured at work after a heated argument between them, Sonya is wracked with guilt and determined to make things right. In her quest for redemption, she crosses paths with mysterious security guard Jaxon Nyles, who, against all odds, warms her heart. But as their attraction and the mystery heat up, Sonya can't shake the feeling that Jaxon is hiding something – something big.

 

Can their burgeoning relationship survive the secrets? Or will they be left with a game over screen?

 

Finish Him invites you to press start on Sonya and Jaxon's romance. So grab your controller and punch in those cheat codes for family, friendship, and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kit 'n Kabookle Literary, LLC
• Release date: Jun 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224499182

M.T. DeSantis

Born a New Englander, M.T. DeSantis moved south in early adulthood, realized she actually liked winter, and promptly moved back north. She's currently trying out life as a Michigander/anian with her family, who also (mostly) actually like winter. When not making word magic, M.T. can be found practicing yoga, attempting to make friends with the oven, or trying to read while people keep talking to her. For some free stories from M.T. and to sign up for her periodic newsletter, follow the very pretty and convenient link below.

Book preview

Chapter 1

With a complex pressing of buttons, the screen goes dim, and my opponent explodes into a fountain of blood and innards. Take that, pixels. The familiar zing of a victory glides through my blood, and it’s all I can do to keep the smirk off my lips. I haven’t been on Thanksgiving break for three hours, and already I’m kicking butt at video games and racking up the bragging points.

Dawn mutters a string of unintelligible syllables. It’s too bad not everyone’s having as good a time as me. I will defeat you, Dwarf.

I hit X on my controller to bring us back to the character selection screen. Dawn is the GM, Game Master, of the Marshalls and Magics campaign our group has going, and I play a dwarf. Possibly, she thinks calling me by my race will unhinge me enough for her to win a round. Not likely. No one beats me at arena-style combat games. Yeah, yeah. Choose your weapon.

Dawn sighs and selects Kerdwin, a random character who appeared in one of the side stories ten years ago. His combos are weak, and his powers are weaker. I keep all this to myself. Dawn pulls no punches during M and M. It’s not my fault if she’s bad at selecting characters in Bloodrage Anarchy: Silver Edition ... or any other edition, really.

Good choice, I say instead and, with automatic movements, navigate three down and two over to Dalara, warrior princess of the outer realm of Simenia. The screen goes dark for the loading process, and our characters appear on the top of a narrow mountain. Lightning arcs overhead, and drums pound a war beat.

Round one, the game’s automated voice, which sounds like a constipated ogre, says. Kerdwin stands in a pathetic pose Lydia probably knows a name for. Dalara also stands in a pose Lydia would know, but hers looks kick-ass and involves balancing on the balls of her feet and swaying. FIGHT! The constipated ogre bellows his call to arms.

Constipation or not, the call is all I need. I send Dalara into a flying kick and knock Kerdwin back. Next, I close the distance to execute Dalara’s strongest combo, a series of kicks and punches that will result in Kerdwin flying across the screen.

Dawn grunts. She blocks, breaking my combo, and jumps away until there’s an entire screen of distance between us.

Unfortunately for her, the reprieve will be slight. I regain my feet and go into attack mode, pressing forward twice and then the A button to activate a special attack. Dalara says something understandable only by people with the rare ability to hear backwards , and dark flames erupt from her hands. I do this twice more, and Dawn’s life bar drops to a quarter remaining. She ducks my fourth attempt, leaps my fifth, and comes at me, getting through my defenses and landing a punch. The tip of my health bar turns red.

Oh, no way. That shitake will not fly. Nice. I send a high kick into Kerdwin’s face and follow with a punching combo. Kerdwin sways on his feet, and I shoot more black flame. But not nice enough. Dalara shifts to her ready stance. Kerdwin falls, and the ogre constipatedly announces my victory. Vacation has never been sweeter.

Rah! Parker screams. He’s sitting across the room on my bed, and somehow, he still almost makes me go deaf. Excellent! Continue! Piff the Eviscerator desires more bloodshed!

Dawn’s character staggers to his feet, and Dawn and I exchange the kind of sideways glance gamers use when they don’t want to take their attention from the screen. Parker plays an illusionist mage in M and M and, because he’s Parker, has named his illusionist mage Piff the Eviscerator.

Silence, Gnome, Dawn says in her intimidate-everyone-but-Parker voice. She’s probably hoping the boy will one day have enough sense to fear her and be quiet.

Eviscerate! Parker punches the air. Blood! However, that day is not today.

The game announces Round Two, and I rush forward as soon as I have control of my character. Dawn punches. I duck and rain down destruction. Combo after combo lands. Forward, forward, Up, C catapults me into Dalara’s spinning kick power, which I use liberally. Dawn’s bar drops. She grunts and leaps back. I stay on her like white on snow, and a few hits later, the game tells me to finish her.

Dawn rests her controller on her knee. I suppose a simple end is too much to request?

I contemplate the screen. There’s blood everywhere, none of it mine, and I’ve won almost every round in the last half hour. The rest of the group will be here soon, and I don’t want to lose people before the fun starts. Just this once, I can be nice.

I think I can manage. I move Dalara so she’s beside Dawn’s character. But I want you to remember this the next time you set an army of orcs on us during M and M.

Dawn’s gray eyes glint. This could be arranged.

Holy crap, she agreed. Now I have to remember to hold her to it. I press down and slightly back so Dalara crouches and deliver a standard uppercut. Kerdwin lands dead, but in one piece.

Dalara Wins, the game says. Flawless Victory.

Yeah. Who’s good? The sides of the screen move toward one another like doors closing. They come together with a thud, and a crash in the real world sounds at the same time.

Was that the door? Dawn says.

I check my phone. There are no missed calls or texts, but someone could still be here. I’ll check.

Parker cheers again. More victims for blooding!

I hop over my orange and purple beanbag chair. Speaking of victims, Parker’s next on my list. He can’t talk so much while concentrating.

Be right back. I high five my poster of Auron. The Final Fantasy warrior monk gives me a stoic look from where he hangs between Lara Croft and Mario. Similar depictions cover almost every inch of wall space. The exception is near the window, where my Legend of Zelda curtains hang to the floor. Most twenty-something girls don’t have the decorating taste of a twelve-year-old boy. I’m not most twenty-something girls. These guys are practically family.

Once in the hall, the racket triples. Armageddon must be happening out there, and if so, my friends are not involved. There’s no way Craig, Molly, Scott, and Lydia got here at the same time; they’re nowhere near coordinated enough. I enter the living room, which resembles a basic living room from a suburban New England home—couches, side tables, TV—and open the front door.

Auntie Sonya! Auntie Sonya!

The world narrows to flailing arms and high-pitched voices. Three small bodies barrel into me and push me back into the house, almost knocking me to the floor. My earlier assessment proves correct: these aren’t my friends. They’re my nieces and nephew, my nieces and nephew who are two days early, which means ...

Hey, Sis. Bethany, my older sister, steps into the house and closes the door.

The arms and screams fade into a gray void, and my high from Bloodrage Anarchy shrivels into an unidentifiable mass of mush. I haven’t seen her since Easter, which didn’t bother me because every time Bethany comes home, it’s the same thing. She nitpicks at my interests until my confidence is puddled on the floor, and I cry for three days trying to rebuild it.

Okay, kids, let’s give Auntie Sonya some breathing room, huh? Bethany herds her offspring toward the kitchen. Are Mom and Dad home?

It takes me a second to realize she’s asking me a question and not insulting my life choices like she usually does. Yeah. They’re in the kitchen.

I bet they have chocolate! Denise, or maybe Delia, yells. My sister just had to have twins.

Bethany says something about snack moderation as she and the kids disappear through the kitchen doorway.

The second they’re out of sight, I scamper back to the relative safety of my room. Bethany didn’t make fun of my Street Fighter T-shirt, but it’s only a matter of time, and while I’m brave in M and M and pretty much every other aspect of my life, this doesn’t extend to my sister. Every time I see her, it’s like I’m twelve again, hopelessly trying to be what she wants me to be and failing miserably.

Ahoy! Parker’s shout pulls me out of my thoughts. He jumps up from my bed and then stops with his hand halfway to a fist pump. You return alone.

I close the door and throw myself down on my beanbag chair, where I put my head in my hands and let out a long breath.

Sonya? Dawn leans toward me. Is all well?

Bethany’s here, I say without looking up.

I feel the look Dawn and Parker exchange. They’ve seen my history with Bethany for years, which is good because I don’t even want to talk about it right now.

Perhaps more bloodshed is in order, Parker says after a short silence.

I approve of this plan and sit up, rotating on the beanbag chair so I’m facing the TV. Excellent idea. Who wants to take a beating? I wince. That was not an invitation to fun.

I am already in place. Dawn hands me my controller, pressing select to wake up the screen.

I take it, and the shape of it in my hands restores some of the confidence I left in that puddle. Bethany may be in the house, but she isn’t in the room. It’s me, my friends, and something I’m amazing at—namely destroying my friends at video games. I select Dalara.

Dawn chooses some second-rate side character, and my streak of domination continues. I’m on fire, almost literally since Dalara has fire powers, and my flawless victory from earlier becomes the first of many as Dawn drops and drops some more. I’m so in the zone that I barely hear my bedroom door open.

What’s going on in here? It’s Bethany.

I falter, letting Dawn get in a kick. The tiny bit of red on my health bar tinges my vision the same color. I finish the round in a flurry of kicks and punches, using Dalara’s easiest fatal finish and whipping around as the arena screen closes away. Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?

Bethany blinks. I did.

She did, Parker confirms. Thrice. Perfectly balanced.

Bethany gives Parker a look that’s somewhere between who-pays-attention-to-that and what-is-wrong-with-you before flopping beside him on my bed. So I repeat, what’s going on in here?

Bloodshed! Parker announces with far-too-much enthusiasm. Of the pixelated variety, he adds, pointing to the TV.

Bethany snorts. You have the weirdest friends, Sis.

My internal organs coagulate into a muggy quagmire. Bethany’s never approved of my friends. She’s never approved of anything I do. Now if only my vocal cords would work so I could tell her I don’t care what she thinks of Parker or anyone else.

I see nothing wrong with this, Dawn says. She nudges my side. Which reminds me. When does the latest version of this game at which I am terrible release?

My head gets back in the game at the question. Bloodrage Anarchy: Platinum? Mid-December, and it’s supposed to be amazing.

Sounds like you’re kind of thing, Bethany says in a disinterested voice. A quick glance tells me she’s on her phone. She puts it away and looks up. Anyway, Mom and Dad have the kids, and I’m headed off to work soon.

She is? Where are you working? I don’t really care, but the question shoots out of my mouth. Really, I just want her to leave so I can get back to my night with people who don’t constantly judge me.

Fantasmic. The one on Route 1.

I wrinkle my nose. Bethany would get a job at the seediest club in New England. Not that there are any good clubs, but from my meager experience, there are three kinds—the ones I’d go to if my life depended on it, the ones I’d walk by if my life depended on it, and the ones I’d be dead if I had to enter because my life depended on it. Fantasmic is definitely in the third category. That dump? Why? Again, the words just drop out of my mouth.

Because it pays the bills. She glances at her phone. So I better get going. You nerds have fun.

My vision turns red again, and my hands clench around the game controller. I want to shout that there’s nothing wrong with nerds and that these nerds happen to be my friends.

Then again, why not? Dawn and Parker are here to back me up, and Bethany’s leaving. This is the perfect time to shove her judgmental attitude back at her. Case you couldn’t tell, these nerds are my friends.

Bethany halts halfway to standing. Expressions play across her face faster than I can catalog, finally settling on resigned. I know—trust me.

Trust her? What’s that supposed to mean? My insides are shaking like jelly, but I don’t let them stop me. This is overdue.

Bethany waves a hand. Only that you’ve always had nerds for friends.

The game controller slips from my hands, and I barely register it thudding to the floor as I stand and step over my beanbag chair. Bethany insulting me is one thing. Bethany insulting my friends is quite another, and instead of making me want to shrink away, it stokes a fire low in my belly. So what? Maybe they like being nerds. Has that ever occurred to you?

Sonya ... Dawn’s tone has a warning note.

I ignore her. You come barging into my room uninvited, flounce down like you own the place, and then call my friends names. You’ve been insulting everything about me my whole life, and I’m so sick of it.

Sonya? That’s Parker.

I ignore him too. I don’t know why you can’t just accept me for who I am and who I hang around with.

Whoa. Bethany holds up her hands. Where is this coming from? All I did was tell you to have fun.

You told us nerds to have fun. My voice builds toward a shout. Do you even listen to yourself talk? Do you even hear how you say things—how hurtful they sound?

Bethany’s mouth hangs open.

Maybe I’ve finally gotten through to her. I don’t recall inviting you to this party.

Hint taken. She sidesteps to the door. I didn’t want to be part of the geek squad anyway. In a single motion, she’s gone.

I’m left staring at the door, breaths coming fast. Did I really just stand up to her? did I actually tell her I don’t appreciate how she treats me?

Well, Parker says, that was ... interesting.

Agreed. Dawn is at my side. Are you all right?

I actually think I am. My breaths are slowing, and my muscles are loosening. I can’t believe I did that.

Dawn exchanges an unreadable look with Parker. What’s that about? I, also, am in some disbelief.

I’m about to ask why, but buzzing from my phone catches my attention. I grab it off my desk and find a text from Lydia saying they’re here. The news is the kick I need to get back to normal. I send a reply that I’ll be right out and toss my phone down. More nerds have arrived, and that’s what tonight is about—some downtime with friends. I’m not letting Bethany ruin that. Lydia and Scott are here. Be right back.

Dawn and Parker say their versions of okay, neither of which is as simple as okay, and I make my second trip to the living room. I open the front door to find Lydia and Scott, as well as Craig and Molly, and I do a literal double-take. Maybe my friends do have some coordination, after all.

Hey. Craig enters and gives me his signature one-arm hug. "Ready