Page 44 of Sinful Sorrow

He pulls a face, smirking and playful. “Whichever degree doesn’t send me nuts while I wait for the Condors to draft me. In the meantime, I sat Econ 101 this morning. And Psych 304.”

“Three-oh-four?” I close my eyes and practically deflate into the cabinetry. “You’re not even allowed in those classes. You’re wasting everyone’s time and money!”

“Mostly Micah’s money,” he smarts. “And Micah’s practically printing it, so I doubt he’s mad that I’m taking extra classes.”

“The extra classes don’t count toward anything! You don’t get credit for them, dummy.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t spend my brainpower on something other than market elasticity. Do you know how fucking boring that shit is?”

“We’re heading to Copeland U in the morning,” Archer interjects for Fletch. “If you can’t swing it and get away from your apartment, I can do it alone. If you wanna come, I’d love to have you.”

“I’ll come. Mia will be in school, and I already need space from Jada.”

“Apart from the Fifi stuff, is Jada giving you a hard time?”

“She’s mostly been sleeping.” He brings his hand up and noisily scratches at the stubble on his chin. “She’s got a whole drug-store worth of pain relief here. Which is a giant fucking oops on the hospital’s part, if you ask me. I told them about her addiction history and upcoming rehab stay, but they still gave her fistfuls and a ‘be a good girl’ spiel. She’s got a dozen broken bones and needs the pills, so she can’t go without, but now I’m holding onto them, doling them out on a timed schedule. Which makes me feel like the world’s biggest asshole, like I’m forcing her to perform to earn the pills.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” I murmur. “If she’s given the lot to handle on her own, the chances of an OD greatly increase. She won’t be able to help herself, because pain and exhaustion do things to even the healthiest of minds.”

“Yeah, well, her pain and exhaustion are fucking with my mind, too. She’s trying really hard, Delicious. It’s like her run in with Booth has finally made her realize her life needs to change. But everywhere I turn, I’m being met with my friends questioning my sanity. Or Sera calling me out. Or Jada herself, eyeing the bag of pills when she thinks I’m not looking.”

“She’s an addict. She can’t help but stare at that bag. You’re helping her by managing it on her behalf.”

“And the friends thing,” Archer inserts. “Is just us checking in to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t mean to be a dick on the phone earlier.”

“It’s just habit,” Fletch sighs. “We all know what she is, so you’re questioning it the same way I questioned you about having Cato in your home.”

“Hey!” Cato scowls. “What did I ever do to you?”

Archer and I both look at the youngest Malone.

“Okay, so I might be related to some shady motherfuckers. And sometimes I like to date. Like, super-duper casually. But I never do drugs. We sell them,” he leers. “Only dummies take them.”

“Are we hearing the irony right now?” Fletcher growls. “My ex-wife is a drug addict, dickhead. And you’re a dealer. Drug addicts don’t become addicts unless they have a dealer putting product into their hands.”

“Point,” Cato acknowledges. “But just so we’re all on the same page: I, personally, sell nothing. I don’t even give out samples. And before you talk shit about Lix, which, frankly, is not something I tolerate, he, too, cleaned house. You could toss some shade at our father for contributing to a person’s addiction, but that dude is dead. So…”

“So you claim innocence,” Fletch growls, “despite the world you come from.”

“Born into it doesn’t mean I condone it.” He shrugs. “I was born a Malone, just as I was born with black hair and a giant cock. It wasn’t my fault.”

“We’re done with this conversation.” Archer turns and snags the phone, and although he takes the call off speaker, he holds it between us both so I can still hear. “I don’t have any new information on the Wallace case. Only theories. We’ll test those theories out tomorrow while we’re at the college. You should try to rest tonight, okay?”

“Rest,” he chuckles. Though the sound is desperate and sad, at best. “Right.”

“You gotta sleep, man. Go to bed and snuggle in with Moo. Turn the TV on if you have to. But you need eight hours horizontal. I’ll drop by in the morning and pick you both up. We can drive her to school together, then we’ll head to Copeland U.”

“Will you drive me too?” Cato drops off the edge of the counter and hits the floor with a slap of his shoes. “Since we’re going in the same direction.”

“No.” Archer drags his eyes from mine and glances over his shoulder. “You need the walk to think through your actions and learn to regulate your dumb self.” Then he brings his focus back around. “Get some rest, Fletch. Tomorrow will be better.”

“Fine.” He inhales noisily and fills his lungs. Then he exhales and stands again, so the movement of a plastic toilet seat echoes through our call. “I’m having a shower and climbing into bed with my baby. I’ll see you in the morning. G’night, Delicious.”

My face warms, because in all of this drama, he seems to find comfort in my presence. “Goodnight, Detective. Be kind to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Sure thing. Night, Archer.”

“Yep. Goodnight.” Archer taps his screen to make it light up, then he presses his thumb to the red icon and kills the call. “Jesus. What a mess.”

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