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ARCHER
“Minnnnka?” I pull up a seat in the homicide division bullpen, and kicking my feet up, I set them on the edge of my old desk and add to the dents and scuffs I’ve already put there over the years. Fletch’s desk butts up against mine, so we get to see each other all damn day on the odd occasions we actually get to sit. Seems, more often than not, we’re running the Copeland City streets and trying to catch a killer. “You okay?”
“I have to fly to New York.” She cuts straight to the chase—of course she does, she’s Minka friggin’ Mayet, undiagnosed neurodivergent, and driving the struggle bus heading straight to, ‘I can’t be vulnerable or have feelings’ town. And right now, this week, for as long as Seraphina Lewis is hurting her feelings, that town is lit up like Vegas at night.
My heart cartwheels when her words register in my mind, an instant gut reaction, as I consider her on the other side of the country without me. But then I remember I can go too.Why the fuck not?
“I guess I’ll be leaving Wednesday sometime,” she mumbles. “Trial is Thursday.”
“And just to clarify… is this someone else’s trial, or yours? The answer will make it easier for me to plan my wardrobe.”
She scoffs, deep in the back of her throat, so I see in my mind the way she rolls her eyes. “A DV case I ran about eighteen months ago, before Imoved to Copeland. Woman is dead, husband shoved her down the stairs in a fit of rage. I kinda figured the case would go away with a deal, but apparently, he changed his mind and wants a jury.”
I cross my ankles and settle in for a chat while Fletcher—Charlie Fletcher, my best friend and partner on the force—thuds into his chair and sets a can of Coke on his desk. Because while Minka is over there dealing with the Fifi Lewis portion of our friendship drama, I’m here handling the Fletcher part. Since he was the asswipe who hurt Fifi’s feelings, which led to her resignation, which led to Minka’s hurt feelings.
Now I have feelings too, though they tend toward, ‘you’re an asshole, Charlie! Fix what you broke’.
“Perp didn’t wanna deal?”
“Brand new, terminal cancer diagnosis. He’s gonna be dead within a year, regardless. He wants that year to be in the fresh air, not the gen pop showers.”
“So, trial.” I fold one arm across my chest and draw a deep breath until my lungs expand. “Wednesday?”
“Yep, since I’ll be in the courtroom on Thursday. Lawyers usually like to meet prior to talk it all through. Would it be ridiculous to fly in and out each day instead of staying overnight?”
My sweet, sensitive,feelingbride. “No, Minnnka. It’s not ridiculous to want that. It could be considered erroneous spending. Wasteful, even. Plus, the carbon emissions might upset some folks.”
“Plus, the germs I could contract from constantly being in an airport.”
I snort. “You fly private now, babe. Commercial isn’t safe. But,” I cast a look around as phones bleat incessantly. As cops come and go, some in uniform, some not. Lowering my voice, I murmur, “Why,specifically,do you want to fly home each night? Maybe I can help.”
“You, mostly.” She whispers the words, too ashamed to be loud and vulnerable at the same time. “I don’t want to stay in New York without you. Which, I know, is absurd. I’m a grown ass woman. I spent twenty-seven years alone before you came along. But?—”
“You don’t wanna sleep alone.” If I was with her in person, holed up in our apartment where it’s just us and we’ve locked my freeloading baby brother in the stairwell, I’d pull her against my chest and wrap her up until she stopped second guessing her instincts.
Her wants.
Even if those wants verge on her perceived weakness.
“What if I come with you? I can take time off. We can fly across and pullup at a nice hotel in the city. You can work during the day, and I can visit with Felix and Micah.”
“You wouldn’t want to stay at the house? There’s no way you going to New York andnotstaying at the house won’t end with Felix throwing a tantrum. He likes it when you’re up his ass, remember?”
Chuckling, I shake my head and ignore my partner’s cranky sneer. “Felix doesn’t get to decide where I stay. He’s my brother, not my god. Besides,” I sink into my chair, like that’ll somehow stop my colleagues from overhearing my words. “We can get a fancy room and consider it a mini honeymoon encore. Whenever you’re not in court, we can be in bed. I wanna fuck you in the state of New York again.”
“Inappropriate conversation for the workplace,” Fletch grumbles. He leans closer and smacks my feet off the desk, sneering when my boots hit the linoleum and my lower back tweaks from the thud. “You probably should run vacation time by your partner before you gallivant across the country with the wife. It’s called manners.”
“And you should mind your fucking mood when talking to me.” I stand and come around to the side of my desk, then perching my ass on the edge, I press my palm to his forehead and shove him back out of my space. “You’re having a sucky month, Charlie. But stepping in on my marriage and messing with my honeymoon isn’t gonna bode well for you.”
He rolls his eyes. “You already had a honeymoon.”
“Yeah. That same honeymoon I saw you and Fifi exit a room,” I taunt. “Alone. Together.” I nod toward his ringing phone and grin. “Get that, won’t you, Boy? It’s noisy and interfering with my private phone call.”
“You’re being mean too.” Minka exhales a breathy sigh and audibly slumps back in her chair. “Everyone here is calling me mean, all because I’m not interested in chit chat on work time. This is who I am, Archer. Why are they surprised I’m being me?”
“Because you’ve been less rigid the last few months. You grew comfortable with your team and started to relax. Then Fletch went and fucked shit up, so now Fifi is leaving. You’re no longer comfortable, and returning to your regular, rigid self is a shock to those who enjoyed the freer version of you.”
She allows silence to hang for a long, loaded beat, only to end with a huff. “What are you? My therapist?”
