Page 123 of Flint’s Strike

Emi drops the chip she was about to dredge through the bowl of guacamole, her eyebrows lifting in perfect arches. “I suggested that last week as a joke.”

“So? It’ll either be brilliant social commentary, or the strangest movie any of us have ever watched.” Grace scrolls to the film’s description. “Don’t you want to find out?”

Isabel laughs. “There’s no way the plant is the strangest thing we’ve ever watched.”

“Probably not.” Grace pats the space next to her on the couch, and Belle jumps up, turns in a circle three times, and drapes herself over Grace’s legs. “But it might be one of the few where no one gets kidnapped.”

The room goes quiet—so quiet that Belle lifts her head with a little inquisitive whine. Grace rolls her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Seriously. I’m allowed to make jokes.”

She’s right. Hell, Emi’s the only one of us who hasn’t been kidnapped. And that’s only because first Jasper, then AJ managed to stop the assholes before they got that far.

The conversation drifts from predictions about the movie, to Veronica’s internship, to whether we should all go to therapy for our terrible movie choices.

Halfway through the opening credits, my phone buzzes again.

Judge Nesbitt left for a dinner. She said to try her in the morning between nine and eleven.

I swear under my breath.

“That’s the third time,” Isabel says, pausing the movie before it even gets started. “Something with the arson case? Or the boyfriend?”

The word boyfriend catches me off guard. I’ve been largely silent in the group chat the past week. Too much going on with the case—and with Eliot—to do much more than send an emoji or two. But AJ and Grace don’t keep secrets from one another, so she probably knows I kissed Eliot at work. Again.

“Parker?” Isabel asks.

“The case.” I scowl at my phone screen, then shove the device back into my pocket. “We need a judge to sign off on a warrant. Three warrants, actually. And I think she’s getting a little tired of us disrupting her days. So, I get to camp out at her office first thing in the morning.”

“Fun times.” Emi grabs the bottle of Chardonnay and refills my glass. “But if you don’t need to make your argument in front of her tonight, you can have another drink.”

“Thanks.” I take the glass, but set it on the coffee table rather than drown my stress immediately. I still need to drive home at the end of the night. “Every hour we have to wait is another hour someone could get hurt.”

“Parker, hon. You’re carryin’ all of Texas on your shoulders. That’s too much for anyone,” Isabel says.

“AJ’s working the press, Nate’s got spreadsheets inside of spreadsheets inside of spreadsheets, lookin’ for connections hidden in data only his brain understands, and Eliot’s coordinating and conducting inspections across the whole Austin metro area. The least I can do is get these warrants signed.”

Emi studies me over the rim of her glass. “You planning on sleeping tonight?”

“Eventually.”

No one looks away. Isabel doesn’t reach for the remote. Even Belle lifts her head again.

“What?” I ask.

Grace's fingers still against Belle's fur. “You said, ‘The least I can do.’”

I shrug, because I don’t understand why we’re still talking about this. “Getting those warrants is the least I can do.”

She studies me for another beat before shaking her head. “No, hon.” Her voice is soft, but she’s got that look in her eyes that tells me she’s serious. “You don’t need to earn your place in someone’s life by being useful.”

The words catch me off guard. My first instinct is to argue. This is how I’ve always loved people. Show up. Fix the problem. Carry the weight.

But Grace isn’t talking about the arson case.

She’s talking about me.

There’s always a fire. Or a murder. Or a kidnapping. Fraud. A cartel making trouble. There’s always something that needs doing or people get hurt.