“She asleep?” Fletch wanders across the apartment, done with his thing with Fifi, I guess. Circling the coffee table and pushing Minka’s supplies aside—empty Factor bottles, a tourniquet, though not the rainbow one she keeps at the house, tape, the packaging from her butterfly needle—he sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and dangles his hands between his legs. He studies the sleeping pair and smirks. “She acts all tough and shit, but damn, she looks good with my baby curled in her arms while they sleep.”
Mine. Not yours.“You taking Mia home now?”
He nods, reaching across and fixing Mia’s shirt, pulling it down to cover an exposed inch of belly. “Might even walk it. The air is nice out there, the street isn’t packed, and Sera agreed to walk with us anyway.”
Surprised, I peek over my shoulder and find the woman shuffling her feet in the kitchen. “Why were you here?” I ask her. “Did something happen?”
Her eyes, willow green and bright, even in the low light, swing up to mine. Then she gulps and shrugs. “I knew it was infusion night, heard Aubree and Mia would be here, too, and I’m three days out from my cycle.” Her cheeks glow a warm red. “I was promised ice cream and cartoons.”
Chuckling, I bring my eyes back to my wife. “Did you eat ice cream for dinner, Chief Mayet? Have I taught you nothing?”
“She had one of those protein breakfast pouch things, actually.” Cato pops off the counter and tosses the bag of chips down. Brushing crumbs off his shirt, he strides around Fifi and straightpast me. Stopping between the coffee table and the television, he sweeps up a small box and meets my eyes. “She’s considering these trial pills, by the way. Soph sent them and told her to take them.”
I blink. Blink. Blink. “I’m sorry, I…” Slowly standing, I extend my hand and accept the parcel he slaps into my palm. “I thought I heard you say my wife is considering taking drugs a fucking ballerina sent her… in the mail?”
“I said what I said.” He plants his hands on his hips. “Sophia’s screeching about how they’re the new Factor infusion. One pill a day, take it in the morning. No more needles, no more sleepy crash, no more drama.”
I peel the box open and study the black foam sections, each pocket nestling a small white pill… all except one. “Why is one already missing?” I turn the box and show them both. “Why is my wife taking drugs that came in the fucking mail?!”
“‘Cos she likes to stress us the hell out?” Cato growls. “I dunno, dude. If married life means worrying about someone else all the damn time, then I’m reconsidering my stance on stealing your wife. This shit is hard work.”
“Wait till you become a dad,” Fletch smarts. “Then you’re worried about a human whose—” He waves his hand in front of his face. “The impulse control part of her brain isn’t even developed yet. So then your five-year-old is making friends with the mafia, throwing herself into a pool even though she can’t swim, tying a string around perfectly good teeth, because she heard the tooth fairy brings cash, and if some prick was to offer her candy and a puppy, I know for a damn fact she’d yeet herself into the creepy van to get a look.”
“What happened to the good old days of checking a woman out but not having to be responsible for her?” Cato snatches upMinka’s used needle and points it in my direction. “I miss those days of objectification and sending them on their way.”
“I’m quite certain that suggests a certain level of…” Fifi rolls her wrist. “Maturation. It’s a good thing.”
“Hell it is.” Cato sweeps up the factor bottles and discarded tape, and stalking back toward the kitchen, he goes about tossing the trash into the trash, and the needle into the sharps container under the sink. “I didn’t even get laid yet this week. That hasn’t happened to me since I was brand new!”
“Sure is hard being you,” Fletch drawls, his disdain punctuated with a roll of his eyes. Exhaling a noisy breath, he pushes off the coffee table and stands over the sleeping pair. “Time to take my girl home.”
“Where’s Harrison?” Cato closes the cupboard and glowers from one end of the apartment to the other. “He’s supposed to be here.”
“He’s busy doing a job for me.” I push up straight, too, knowing once Fletch takes Mia, I get to scoop Minka up and put her to bed. “Why? What’s the problem?”
Cato slams his feet into a pair of high-tops and grabs his phone. “I need an hour of immaturity before I explode.”
Fifi’s cheeks pale. “Ew.”
“You stay with her.” He looks me in the eye, driving his point home. “I’ll be an hour, she’s asleep anyway, and don’t even act like you don’t want this.” He strides across the apartment and waits patiently as Fletch carefully extracts Mia from Minka’s octopus-like grip, then he stops in front of the pair and presses a kiss to Mia’s forehead. “Uncle Cato will see you tomorrow, McStinkerson. We’ll swim in the pool and learn how to float.” Stepping back, he shoots a dangerous glare at Fletch. “Thefrontal cortex impulse thing is stressful for me, too.Youhad sex five years ago and made a baby, butI’mthe dumb fuck left worrying about her.”
“Doing the Lord’s work,” Fletch chuckles, carefully situating Mia against his chest, her legs straddling his hips, and her cheek squished against his shoulder. “Knowing you worry about her means I won’t go gray every time she’s out of my sight.” Draping her arms over his shoulders, he looks to me… then down to Minka… then up again. “You good here?”
“He’s fine.” Cato strides across the apartment and through the door on his mission to get laid, not a single backward glance for the woman heswearshe’s in love with.
“I’m fine.” I close the medicine box and set it down on the arm of the couch, then I do as Cato did and settle a kiss on Mia’s temple. “That… uh…” I clear my throat. “That overtime we worked tonight?”
Fletch’s eyes flicker between mine, curious, probing, and a little on the feral side.
“It’s been known to get the adrenaline going and a man’s baser instincts pumping. I know my relationship is in the toilet right now, so you might not care for my opinion, but…” I drop my hands into my pockets and peek down at Minka’s peaceful sleeping form. “Ya know. Be cautious. Be mindful. Tomorrow’s a new day… Make sure the decisions you make tonight stand up once everything is calm again.”
“I got it.” He inches forward and taps my shoulder with his, then he turns on his heels and starts in Fifi’s direction. “What flavor ice cream did you have?” He carefully juggles Mia and opens the apartment door to allow Fifi through, crossing the threshold, and pulling it shut once more. “I kinda wish I hadsome right now. I swear this summer has been the hottestever.”
Minka makes a sound in the back of her throat, part inhale, part snore, and at least half whimper. Turning from her back to her side, she drags the top of her shirt up and presses the fabric to her nose. Inhaling the scent—myscent—deep into her lungs, she relaxes again, melting into the cushions with a sigh.
“Guess it’s just me and you, Chief.” I’m both a bastard and a man in love, knowing that if she were to wake and discover me here, she’d lose her fucking mind. But also, fully aware I can’t walk away, not even if a thousand horses pulled me. So I snatch up the television remote and carefully lift her legs, then I sit and drape her feet over my lap.
The box of pills taunts me, and Minka’s flashing phone screen draws my focus in another direction. Gritting my teeth and stretching my arm, I snag the device with the very tips of my fingers and check the notifications, only to smile at the onslaught of unread texts from Soph.
