Page 56 of Shades of Silver City

“Remy,” Archer says before I can lay into the man. “Apologize to the lady.”

Remy scoffs. “Ain’t no way. That’s a compliment.”

Archer steps forward, jaw clenched tight, and leans close to Remy. “I said, apologize to the lady. Now.”

Remy’s face goes slack, his eyes glossing over. He turns to me. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Archer adjusts his jacket, stepping back and giving a nod. “Thank you.”

Remy nods, shakes his head, then resumes scowling. “I toldya, I’m not coming home with ya, boy.”

My brow scrunches. “Uh…?” I stare at Archer. What the fuck was that about? “You have weird friends,” I mutter.

Archer ignores us both, reaching into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a phone. He hands it to Remy. “Been looking for you so I could give you this. Call me if you need me. Godric and I are both programmed in there.” He pats the man on the shoulder. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back tonight.”

Remy curses at Archer as we walk away, but he keeps the phone. Archer chuckles under his breath.

I can’t stop stealing glances at Archer. There’s a lot to unpack from that interaction.

“Who’s Remy?” I ask as we head toward the street.

Archer sighs, running a hand over his scruff. There’s an extended pause, as if he’s debating what to say. “Just a man who made some bad decisions and hasn’t had an opportunity to make better ones. Yet.”

“He’s someone special to you,” I guess.

Archer sucks in a sharp breath. “He’s Godric’s father.” There’s a moment of quiet contemplation before he goes on. “They pretend otherwise, but there’s years of resentment built up between them. Remy’s been an addict—alcohol, narcotics—since Godric was young. He never wanted to be a dad.”

“You visit him though?”

For a second, I don’t think he’s going to respond. Then he gives me a long look. “I’m helping him—and a few others.”

“Other addicts?” I say softly.

He nods.

“The person you lost—they were an addict, too?”

A deep furrow appears in his brow. Staring straight ahead, he shakes his head. “They deserved better,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Who?” I ask.

He doesn’t reply, but anger radiates from him like steam from a manhole. Whatever I said—whatever he thought I was implying—seems to have triggered him. But I don’t think it’s me he’s mad at.

After a few more steps, he lets out a long sigh.

My eyes flit to his face, but he shakes his head subtly without looking my way. I wait for him to respond, but when he doesn’t, I return my attention to the path ahead.

A scrawny cat scurries past, and I squeeze Archer’s arm, tugging him to a stop. Whipping around, I squint, trying to locate its little calico frame, but it’s already long gone.

After a few moments of watching silently, hoping the little guy will poke his head out, I accept that he won’t be making another appearance.

When I turn back to Archer, I catch him studying me.

“What?”

“Do you have any pets of your own?” he asks, his soft tone surprising me, especially after the strange, tense encounter we just had with Remy.

“I wish.”

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