Page 36 of When Love Takes Root

I stared at the message.

Juice wiped his hands on a towel and grinned. “Officer Friendly has entered the chat.”

“Don’t start.”

“I ain’t starting. I’m greeting the law with brotherly foolishness,” Juice said, opening the door as the sound of the bay rushed in.

“That’s starting.”

“That’s ministry,” Juice said.

I shook my head and followed him out, leaving the bag swaying behind me, slower now, its chain whispering against the beam.

In front of me, Onyx cut the engine on his bike, pulled off his helmet, and looked toward the shop with purpose in his eyes.

Whatever favor he needed, it had weight on it.

Once Onyx climbed off the bike with the same alertness he carried on duty, the badge wasn’t on his chest anymore, but the responsibility still was.

Juice leaned against the workbench and wiped his hands on a towel like he’d been waiting all morning for foolishness with a fresh audience. “Well, well, well. Officer Friendly done pulled up on us.”

Onyx hooked his helmet on the handlebar and slid off the bike. “Justice.”

“Don’t Justice me, Five-O. You come with a warrant or a work order?”

Onyx stepped into the shade of the bay, glanced at the foil plate sitting near the mitts, then looked back at Juice. “I came to see if Siah was busy, but I see you’re still employed in catering.”

Juice pressed a hand to his chest. “That’s hate.”

Onyx said, “That’s observation.”

Onyx clasped my hand, and I pulled him into a quick shoulder bump.

Onyx asked, “You good?”

“I’m good,” I said.

I led him toward the office. “You want water?”

“Yeah.”

Juice followed us. “He wants water because he trying to look disciplined in front of civilians. Let him get home; he gon’ drink all Jaya and Jamilah’s juice boxes.”

Onyx didn’t turn around. “I have daughters. Juice boxes are community property.”

Juice stopped in the doorway. “That’s theft with a badge.”

Onyx leaned against the edge of my desk, and his phone lit up when it shifted in his pocket. The lock screen flashed before he tucked it away. Leilani sat on their couch in the picture, one hand resting on the soft rise of her pregnant belly while Jaya stood behind her with both little arms wrapped around her mother’s neck. Jamilah sat pressed against Leilani’s side, wide smile bright enough to make the screen look warmer, her hands lifted mid-motion like joy had caught her body before the camera did.

I’d only seen the photo for a second, but family had a way of speaking fast.

“How’s Leilani feeling?” I asked.

Onyx said, “Tired. Beautiful. Hungry every forty-five minutes. Mad at me for eating crackers she forgot that she ate.” He chuckled lightly.

Juice snapped his fingers. “Pregnancy law. You guilty.”

I sat behind the desk and pulled a blank service form from the stack. “The girls good?”