Page 40 of His Greatest Treasure

“Not renting my pool,” I grunt.

Hart pushes. “Can you?”

“No.”

“He needs a nap and a meal before you can convince him to share shit with you, rookie. Don’t push it,” Adams says.

I need a lot more than a nap, but I keep my mouth shut instead of exposing myself. We might be a big family, but there’s nothing worth mentioning to them right now.

We pass down the street too quickly. Once Adams turns back onto the street that’ll take us straight to the station, I stare at the side mirror, desperate for another glance at Avery and Nova that I never get.

My mood drops even further, but at least my worry is sated. They’re fine. Having fun.

I remind myself of that for the rest of the day.

Shovellinganother forkful of piping hot spaghetti past my lips, I ignore the voices around the table in an effort to convince myself I’m sleeping while eating.

I’ve been hunched over the dining table for the past ten minutes, my empty stomach continuing to rage regardless of how quickly I eat. We’ve been call-less since we got back an hour ago. The squad split off half and half, the ones not pulling extra hours off to sleep in their beds while the rest of us prepare for the final hours of our shift.

“Breathe, Bateman,” Captain says gruffly.

I’m half animal as I inhale through the food in my mouth. I swallow before speaking, hearing my mother’s chastising tone in the back of my head.

“I’ll breathe when I’m full.”

“You’ll be dead by then.”

“At least I won’t be hungry,” I mutter before filling my mouth again.

My fork scrapes the edges of the bowl as I twirl the last bit of pasta onto it and stab a chunk of beef. Captain Gallagher shakes his head at me and leans back against the kitchen island with a tablet in his hands.

Half the chairs at the table are full, but it’s quiet. We’re all concerned with eating as fast as we can out of fear of being forced back out with empty stomachs again.

“I’m pretty sure you’d be left hungry in hell, Bateman. I doubt the devil’ll be feeding you caviar,” Adams puts in from his spot across the table.

I fit him with a narrowed gaze. “Who said anything about hell? And I’m not a caviar guy.”

“There’s no way you’re winding up at the pearly gates with your potty mouth. So unless you’ve got a third option . . .” he drones.

Captain keeps his eyes on the tablet but scratches at his silver-streaked beard with one finger. “Just let him eat, Adams. We’ll all be better off then.”

“You make me sound like an asshole, Captain.”

“One of the nicest I’ve ever known,” he retorts.

“I think that was redundant. Bateman doesn’t need compliments.” Adams finishes off his food and brings his bowl to the sink. “Now, who’s on cleanup?”

“You are,” I say after swallowing my last bite.

Adams looks at Captain with a helpless expression. Cap flashes him atoo badlook before meeting my eyes. “Try to get your incident report from the apartment fire on my desk before next call. Only a few more hours to go.”

“Can’t complain about a forty-eight after how long last rotation was. I’d do this shift over any other,” Adams says.

He has a valid point. I’d prefer never to pull another four-day shift.

“Do the dishes, then” are Captain’s last words before he slips from the kitchen.

“Better scrub ’em good. I’ll be checking,” I warn Adams.

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