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So much ouch that I couldn’t really get mad back at him, much as I wanted to. Because the thing about Elliot is that he doesn’t believe in bullshit, so if he was calling me out, then I fucking deserved it.
Which only made it hurt more.
“So what do I do?” I asked him, hating how pathetic that sounded.
“I’d start by pulling your head out of your ass.”
I winced.
“And then,” he continued, before I could come up with anything to say to his last comment, “You get your fucking shit together.”
“Any advice on how to do that, Yoda?” I asked, turning to my old standby coping mechanism of sarcasm and bitterness.
“Use the force, Val,” he snarked back, and I knew that Elliot, at least, had forgiven me. He might think I’m an ass, but at least he still loved me.
“Funny, El. But seriously.”
I heard him sigh. “You’re a big boy, Val.”
“Should I come home?” I asked him, then.
“What?” He clearly hadn’t been expecting that question.
“Should I come home?” I repeated. “Move back. Milwaukee. Madison, maybe.”
He was silent for a good minute that felt like forever. “You know I love you, Val,” he said, then, and he sounded worried. “But I thought you liked Richmond?”
I shrugged, knowing it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see me. Elliot could read my silence.
“Val, what’s going on?”
“I miss the force,” I told him. “I miss doing something that isn’t finding somebody’s stupid rich teenager or pilfered brooch.”
Pet chose that moment to jump up on the bed and curl up next to me, shoving her furry ass against my hip. I put a hand on her back and stroked her fur. At least my cat wasn’t mad at me.
“So not a fan of the new job?”
“It’s—complicated.”
“Not really, Val. Do you like your new job? Yes or no.”
“Sometimes?”
He sighed. “Okay,whendo you like your new job?”
“When it’s interesting. When I’m actually helping people, instead of just performing for a paycheck.”
“Can you talk to your new bosses about that?”
I could. I knew I could. And I knew they’d probably bend over backwards to try to keep the stupid shit off my plate—but that just meant one of them would be doing it, instead.
“I don’t want to make them have to just do it for me,” I told Elliot. “Because they would.”
“You sure?” he asked.
I frowned. “What do you mean, am I sure?”
“I don’t know them,” he said, “so I could be wrong about this, but the impression I get from what you’ve said about them is that they’ll say no to cases if they think you’ll hate them and they don’t want to do them.”
