Fletch
Hey. I’m just checking in. I know it’s not time to get Mia from school yet, but I’m kinda anxious about all this, so if you could over-communicate, that would be helpful.
Hey. We just landed. Checking in.
Sera. You’re okay, right? I don’t need entire conversations if you’re not comfortable with it.
But a thumbs up’ll help. Proof of life and all that.
Seraphina, I’m not trying to be that guy, but this whole situation makes me anxious, and you’re literally my baby’s safety net right now.
School’s out in twenty minutes. Don’t forget her, please. I’m begging you.
“W ho are you stress texting?”
I slam my phone against my thigh and wrench my head around to lock eyes with not one, not even two, but three of Bishop’s women.
And Aubree.
Jess’s blue gaze swings from my phone to my eyes—her lips quirked in a high smile. “You’re texting a woman, but it’s not flirty and fun. It’s serious. Your girlfriend giving you trouble?”
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Aubree teases.
While the bus ambles away from the airport and onto a potholed road in the middle of a fucking cow field, she settles in on the seat beside mine and crosses one leg over the other.
“He has a situation, a deceased ex-wife, and a little girl he’s a little obsessed with.
He couldn’t bring her with us, since we’re working, which means she’s still in Copeland.
And his situation, a woman who wouldn’t even talk to him not so long ago, is supposed to be picking her up from kindergarten soon. ”
“Aw.” Jess preens. “I have two little girls, too. We should get them together so they can play.”
“Blondie.” Kane sits across from us, his elbows on his knees and his eyes burning holes in the front of his wife’s face. When she brings her focus up, he merely shakes his head.
There will be no play dates between the cops and the criminals.
She waves him off. “I’ve heard such nice things about her already,” she continues, her inquisitive eyes dropping to my phone, though it remains infuriatingly silent.
“I’ve walked in on more phone calls between Justin and Jen than I care to admit, and I swear, every single time, he’s waxing on about his friends in Copeland.
Minka this, and Aubree that. Mia Fletcher is the cutest little bug he’s ever met besides his own granddaughter. ”
“He laughs about Mia, though.” Jen folds in beside Aubree, half hugging her so she doesn’t fall off the end of the chair. “He seems to think Mia’s got it out for him. Like, she hates him or something.”
Text. Me. Dammit.
“I didn’t believe him at first, but he was saying how he was at the medical examiner’s office last week, and Mia just happened to be there, too. He said she was staring at him.”
Jess’s brows furrow. “Staring at him?”
“Yeah! Like she was planning to strip the skin straight off his bones. He said it would be scary if she weren’t so cute.”
“It’s probably because he’s a scoundrel,” Aubree adds playfully. “Fletch’s situation is Justin’s assistant.”
“Seraphina?” Ellie questions. “ That’s who you’re crushing on?”
I scowl and stare at my hands. I refuse to partake in their girly gossip session. I especially refuse to discuss Sera when the woman won’t even send me a fucking text, even though she promised .
“It’s complicated,” Aubree croons. “Very messy. But she’s taking care of Mia while we’re away. So give him grace while he?—”
My phone beeps, the vibration rolling up my arm and into my shoulder like electricity popping in my veins.
And because I’m a fucking idiot, I whip my hand up and attempt to unlock my screen too fast, entering the wrong code once, twice.
Then, slowing myself, I enter it correctly the third time and choke on my relieved exhale when I see her name.
I won’t forget her, Charlie. Relax. In fact, I’m at the school now. I was in transit when you were blowing up my phone.
Can you trust me to take care of this, or do you require step-by-step proof of life?
Step-by-step proof of life?—
Jen clears her throat, obnoxious and loud and attention grabbing until my fingers falter and my eyes go to hers. Then she shakes her head and gently—like the fucking jaws of life—pries the device from my fingers.
Deleting what I wrote, she starts again.
Seraphina. I’m sorry for overreacting. I appreciate you taking care of my baby while I’m out of town, and of course, I trust you to do whatever you need to do to ensure she’s okay.
No need for step-by-step updates. But feel free to text whenever you like. I enjoy talking to you.
“Dude! No!”
I dive for my phone, but she shoves to her feet and takes it with her.
“Jen!”
She types and speaks out loud. “ I apologize for all past, present, and future bullshittery. It’s clear I lack emotional regulation, but I’m working on it, I promise.
To be a good father and partner, I acknowledge my weaknesses and endeavor to fix them.
I’ll do anything to make Mia happy, and since having you in her life does exactly that, I’ll do anything to make you happy, too . ”
“Jennifer fucking Lawrence!” I unsnap my belt and jump to my feet. But Corey-the-military-killer-fucking-Rosa steps forward, too. Warning. Waiting. “This isn’t a game to me, Jen! And this sure as shit ain’t middle school. Give my phone back.”
“Just hang on a second. Geez.” She continues to type.
“ I’m about to head into a cellular black spot, so I’ll be unavailable for about an hour.
If you don’t hear from me, don’t worry. I’ll get back to you soon.
I hope you ladies have the best afternoon.
I miss you. Tell my baby I love her very much . ”
“Jen!”
“Send.” She flashes a taunting smile and locks my screen.
Then, offering the device back, she wiggles her hand and waits for me to take it.
“You’re welcome, Detective. Tell me what she replies.
The best part is, she’ll know you mean Mia with the ‘ tell my baby I love her ’ thing.
But she’ll wonder.” She smirks. “I promise. She’ll hope. ”
“I will not tell you what she replies.” I dig the phone into my pocket and pray the warmth in my face isn’t as visible as it feels. Then turning, I’m met with way too many fucking grins. Too many sets of dancing eyes and middle-school immaturity. “Mind your own business! All of you.”
“He’s whipped, huh?” Spence drops his head back and laughs. “Sucks to be you, motherfucker. In love, but still on the outside.”
“I’m not in love!” I slump into my seat beside Aubree and inch away, so she can’t touch me. “I’m a single dad whose only focus is on his daughter. I don’t have time to be in love with anyone else.”
“I remember those days.” Kane pulls Jess into his lap, wrapping her in tattooed arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“I was literally fighting for my life, dodging bullets and dirty cocaine, and hoping my undercover op didn’t come apart at the seams, since the risk was lead nestled right here between my brows.
” He pokes his forehead. “I remember being busy. But sure,” he casts a side-eye my way. “I’m sure your busy is legit, too.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
My phone vibrates against my leg, startling me until I dig my hand into my pocket and free the device with an idiotic hiss of triumph.
I could have a little chill, if only I slowed myself down and used my brain.
I could look less stupid if I weren’t already grinning, long before I unlock the screen.
But then I read her words and know I’m doomed.
Doomed!
We miss you, too, Charlie. Be safe in your black spot and check in when you’re on the other side. Waiting for Mia to come out of class now.
She already saw me through the little window in the door.
I won’t lie, made my stomach jump a little. Talk to you later.
“She likes you!” Jen slides under Corey’s arm, cuddling into his side and looking up at the military motherfucker whose lips almost curl into a smile. “She likes him. I have dibs on being the executive in charge of communications between my dad’s assistant and Minka’s cop’s cop.”
“Detective Fletcher,” I correct her, locking the screen again and biting down on my pathetic smirk. Why am I smiling? Because maybe she likes me, too? Who the fuck have I become? “And you’re never texting for me again. That was an invasion of privacy.”
“Boo-freakin’-hoo,” Soph drawls. “Someone get Detective Lover over here a bowl of cereal to cry into. It’s not like I don’t already see every single text you ever send or receive.”
We miss you, too, Charlie.
We.
We!