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Just when he was starting to consider calling it a night, another article from the Google results caught his eye. Jake heaved a loud sigh of frustration. It was two in the morning. He had to be up for work in five hours. He really should get some sleep.
He clicked on the headline and began to read.
Don’t Tell Your Boss You Have ADHD.
Some other purple-highlighted, you’ve-already-clicked-on-this links of the night included Should You Tell Your Boss About Your ADHD? and The Danger Of Disclosure. They asked – but failed to give a clear answer to, ironically, since that was kind of their entire purpose – a question that had been eating at him for roughly a year and a half.
Would they still like him?
(Did they ever like you? was another question his brain seemed adamant on finding an answer to. Jake knew he should beat that one down with a stick, but he couldn’t lie: it did make him wonder.)
It wasn’t that Jake didn’t trust the nine-nine. It was just that he...kind of didn’t trust anybody.
Except Amy. Maybe. The jury was still out on that one. Which, like, wasn’t horrible, right? They’d only been dating for a few months. Granted, they’d known each other for years, but it was different now. Now they were lovers. It was going take a while for him to be comfortable fully committing.
He hoped she didn’t know that, but she probably did. She was super smart. (On an unrelated note, he really liked her. A lot.)
Jake skimmed the article for a minute before closing the page entirely, the slightly darker glow of his laptop wallpaper – John McClane in action, of course – lighting up the otherwise pitch-black bedroom. He spared a glance at Amy, sleeping like a rock beside him. It was a miracle he hadn’t woken her up yet. He wondered if she was as exhausted as he was from the week’s insanely busy workload, and felt a twinge of guilt. At breakfast, she was going to ask how he’d slept, like she did every morning, and he would have to lie to her. Again. No bueno.
Jake leaned back against the headboard. He was still desperate for answers, but resting his eyes for a moment couldn’t hurt.
He woke up to a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.
“Babe,” a voice whispered. A really sweet, familiar voice, accompanied by the sound of something clicking shut and a heavy weight being removed from his legs, and gosh, why was his neck so sore?
Sunlight was pouring in through the window.
Oh, shit.
He pried his eyes open, blinking blearily at an eyebrow-raised Amy sitting on the bed in front of him
“Hi,” Jake croaked. “I definitely wasn’t up all night reading things on the internet.”
Amy blinked. “Well, uh, I would believe it. You hate reading.”
“Yes. That I do. Which is why that is absolutely not what I was doing.”
“Mm. Except I checked your browsing history.”
Oh, shit.
Jake scoffed at her, holding back a groan of discomfort as he pulled himself up into a sitting position.
“Wow,” he shook his head in mock disgust. “What an invasion of privacy. I’m very disappointed in you, Amy Santiago.”
To his surprise, she looked slightly guilty.
“I know,” Amy said. “I felt really bad about it, I’m sorry. I was just worried. You’ve looked really tired lately.” She gave him a once-over, wearing a thin sheen of sympathy. “But at least now I know why...”
When she reached up her hand with the clear intention of placing it on his face, Jake pulled back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Too deep, too much emotion, not going there.
“Whoa, whoa, nuh-uh. Nope. This is not a conversation we need to have right now, or, you know, ever.” He made a hurry of shimmying out of his sweatpants while he walked over to her dresser, digging through his neatly folded (looked like she’d organized his staying-the-night drawer again) stack of clothes for a pair of jeans.
It was Amy’s turn to scoff. Jake felt somewhat affronted. Scoffing was his thing.
“What, we can’t talk about serious things?” She asked.
“Light and breezy, remember?” Jake said.
“I thought we agreed to screw light and breezy.”
“You have a freakishly good memory, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Uh, no. You just have the memory of a goldfish.”
“Yeah, that, too.”
Jake slipped on an undershirt, and popped his head out only to catch Amy’s eyes in the mirror. He sighed, propping his hands on the edge of the dresser and hanging his head.
She got up from the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, then began to press a series of kisses to his shoulder and arm. It might have made him feel kind of, slightly, a little bit more like opening up to her.
But still not enough to have this conversation.
“Why can’t you tell them?” She murmured against his skin. Jake suppressed a shiver. She was playing him, damn it! “Jake, the nine-nine is your family – our family, actually. They won’t care. And I know it’s killing you to feel like you’re hiding something from them.”
“How do you know I decided not to tell them?” He challenged. “Maybe I decided it’s the perfect time and I’m doing it today. Ever think of that?”
“Sounds great.” Amy rested her chin on his shoulder. “I’ll tell them with you.”
“It was a hypothetical, gosh, don’t take me so seriously,” He said quickly, and realized a second too late that he’d just proved her point for her. Damn her manipulative but undeniably adorable little arm-kisses. “Ames, just...not yet, okay? I know I’ve been saying ‘not yet’ for, like, a long time, and you’re probably really sick of kinda lying by omission to Holt and everything, but…”
“Okay.”
“What?” Jake turned to face her. “You’re alright with that?”
Amy looped her arms around his neck now, and his hands drifted to rest on her hips almost automatically. When did that become a thing?
“It’s your decision,” she said, like it should have been obvious. “I can’t choose who you share details of your personal life with or when you do it.” She shrugged, smiling faintly. “Besides, I know they’ll love you the same either way. I do.”
Panic flitted briefly over Amy’s face as the realization of what she’d said hit her. A burst of warmth filled Jake’s chest. He leaned in to capture her lips in his own, partly to quell her worry that she’d said the wrong thing, but mostly to hide the watering of his eyes which definitely had nothing to do with the sudden overwhelm of emotions coursing through him and everything to do with the pollen count.
When he pulled away, Jake placed his chin on top of her frizzy morning hair, blinking rapidly. “Love you, too.”
Maybe it was the articles, or his conversation with Amy, but Jake found himself overthinking things a lot more than usual that day. More specifically, overthinking every single interaction he had with everyone in the precinct.
He watched their faces for signs of discomfort, disgust, or any other emotion that would suggest they didn’t really want to be talking to him. He scanned their words for signs that they might somehow already know. It seemed like there were a million subtle signs he missed, little ways people were telling him on a regular basis that he sucked and somehow he’d missed that right up until today. His chest physically hurt when Gina made a joke at his expense, which was stupid because she did that all the time to everybody.
He was probably reading too much into this. He was definitely reading too much into this. Jake just couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t on their level, and that telling them about this would only drop him a few more rungs down the ladder.
His ADHD couldn’t be kept a secret forever when he was surrounded by detectives. But then again, he’d known for eighteen months and Amy was the only person in the nine-nine who had a clue. Maybe he could keep it a secret forever.
Maybe they hadn’t noticed because they just didn’t care.
(This time he did beat the thought down with a stick. It was exhausting.)
Honestly, Jake should have known that thinking about this one thing all day long without pause would only lead to disaster. When the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he didn’t even stop to consider who he was talking to. After all, he’d been thinking about this all day, and he tended to say whatever he was thinking. It was a slippery slope from the start.
“Can you say that again?” Jake asked as he glared down at the paperwork in front of him. The evidence didn’t quite add up. Did they have the wrong guy?
“I shouldn’t have to repeat everything I say to you three times,” Rosa said in a biting tone. Jake couldn’t see her but he imagined her eyes rolling.
“Yeah, well, I have ADHD, you can’t just say things to me.”
The precinct grew suspiciously quiet. Jake blinked, then the realization crashed into him like a wave. Ice cold water coursed through his veins.
Did he just say that? He just said that. His face burned. He stared determinedly down at the case file on his desk and swallowed with difficulty around the lump in his throat. Maybe if he acted like it was no big deal, everyone would just forget about it.
“You have ADHD?!” Charles squealed from across the room. Jake saw him rising from his seat out of the corner of his eye. Sit back down sit back down shut up sit down. “How did I not know that?! I thought I knew everything about you! I’m a horrible best friend!” Boyle flopped back into his chair and threw a hand over his eyes. “God, now I have to return those friendship bracelets I got us for Christmas. Forgive me, Jake. Believe me, I’m mad enough at myself for the both of us.”
There was another long, tense stretch of silence. Scully coughed.
Amy reached across their desks to place a hand over his. He looked up for the first time, eyes wide with absolute panic. She didn’t look pitying or woeful like she had this morning. Her mouth was set in a determined line.
“Jake,” she said quietly, but firmly. “You said it. It’s fine. Nobody minds.” The don’t run away from this went unspoken, but Jake got the message loud and clear.
God, she was right. How was she always so right? He hated it when she did that.
When he turned to gauge the room, ten or so sets of eyes immediately turned the opposite way. The beat cops and other non-inner-circle-er’s looked uncomfortable to be here for a moment that was clearly awkward for the squad. Everyone was suddenly very interested in their shoes and the weather outside the window.
Everyone except for Boyle, Terry, and Rosa. Boyle was still slumped in a state of self-woe, Terry was looking at him in a way that was too calm and nice for the situation in Jake’s humble opinion, and Rosa...had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite decipher.
Gina was staring absently at her phone, occasionally swiping her finger over the screen. “It’s really nooootttt that surprising,” she drawled.
"You...have ADHD," Rosa said. “I didn't know that. That’s...cool. That’s fine. Whatever. I have to go now.”
She turned on her heel and all but ran out of the bullpen. Jake glanced nervously at the Sergeant.
“Why do you look so scared, man?” Terry asked, looking somewhat bemused. “Boyle’s the only one losing it.”
“Boyle loses it over everything,” Gina pitched in.
“I’m the world’s worst friend! Leave me to perish!”
“Exactly.” Terry lifted his hand toward Gina in agreement. “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh,” Jake breathed. It seemed like a pretty big deal to him, but he was glad they didn’t agree. Well, everyone but Charles, but this was pretty much the best Jake could have asked for from him. “Um, okay. Thanks. I guess.”
Within five minutes, everyone (but Charles, though he was starting to recover) seemed to have completely moved on from the abrupt announcement. Jake blinked down at the file before him. The words were swimming on the page. There was no way he was closing out this case today.
It really wasn’t that big of a deal to them, apparently. That...was completely unexpected. All those internet articles had hyped him up, leaving him with the expectation of being completely ostracized and rejected from the squad.
In retrospect, that was less than realistic.
Amy rubbed her foot against his leg under the desk. He looked up to find her smirking smugly at him. Told you so, she mouthed.
Jake quirked his own lips back at her. “Bite me,” he whispered.
“Gladly.”
Okay. Alright. This was alright. Not that he’d ever give her any more reason to gloat, but Amy had been right about everything; it was like a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. Everything was fine. It was nice.
For a moment. His relief was dampened when he looked up to find Holt standing in the doorway of his office, looking around the precinct like he was debating something very important. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Holt’s gaze linger on him long enough to make him feel an itch to jump out of his own skin and hide under the desk. How long had the Captain been standing there? His office door had been open all morning. He must have heard everything.
The Captain was an efficient man. He’d put up with Jake’s unorthodox methods of detective-ing in the past because he (usually) got the job done. Would he put up with this, too?
Holt retreated back into his office after several minutes. Jake spent the rest of the day responding in kind to Amy’s flirtatious advances and trying to pretend his stomach wasn’t churning in dread.
Holt, it turned out, was not the only one who had mixed feelings about the unintentional revelation. Even after returning to the bullpen, Rosa avoided Jake for the rest of the day. She responded to him in two to three word phrases and refused to meet his eyes. The second the clock struck five, she was shrugging into her jacket and speed-walking to the elevator, leaving her computer logged in and a manila file open on her desk.
Things were maybe not so alright.
“Are you feeling okay?” Amy asked that night as she pulled a nightgown over her head. “You didn’t eat a lot at dinner. You always eat dinner.”
It was a weird thing for her to ask. She’d made dinner. Amy was well aware that her cooking sucked. But she was right; he usually ate it anyway.
Jake, already belly-down under the comforter, shook his head. “Not sick. ‘S fine.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. Yes, his gut was fluttery and he didn’t feel so great. No, he wasn’t sick.
He turned his face into the pillow when she gave him a disbelieving look. The bed dipped and a weight plopped down beside him, a set of soft, lithe fingertips massaging the nape of his neck.
“Hey,” Amy said close to his ear. Jake reluctantly turned back toward her. “This isn’t about the squad knowing about your ADHD, right? I mean, I know it wasn’t exactly planned, but it’s fine. Nobody cared, and now you have nothing to hide.”
“Rosa cared.” Jake paused. “Holt cared.”
“Rosa is extremely uncomfortable with emotions,” Amy pointed out. “And Holt wasn’t even there.”
“He was standing in the doorway. He heard everything.”
“So what?”
Jake was silent, eyes flitting around the room. Amy sighed.
“Jake,” she said in almost a scolding tone. “You don’t honestly think he’s going to fire you or something.”
“…”
“You do honestly think he’s going to fire you or something. Babe. That’s ridiculous.”
“Why is it ridiculous?” Jake asked indignantly. “The internet doesn’t think it’s ridiculous!”
“I don’t feel like I should dignify that with a response,” Amy rolled her eyes.
“Ha! Joke’s on you, you just did.”
“Jake, I’m serious.” Amy laid her hand on his face, thumb stroking absently at his cheekbone. “It wouldn’t be logical to fire you. Nothing about you has changed. All that’s changed is what they know. You aren’t going to do anything any differently than you ever have. If you being yourself bothered him that much, he would have done something about it a long time ago. Captain Holt is a very logical man...”
“Okay, you talking about a gay man in a really dreamy way in front of your boyfriend is pretty weird,” Jake said.
“Right, sorry.” Amy cleared her throat. “But you get my point?”
He did. He didn’t have to admit it.
“What about Rosa?” He swerved. “Rosa fades into the walls when people get all personal. She doesn’t storm out and draw all that attention.”
“Ask her,” Amy said. Oh. She was going for the blunt approach. Oh-kay then. “You have to be direct with Rosa. Rosa’s a direct person. Holt is, too. Don’t avoid them and make it all worse.”
“What happened to not deciding for me who should know and when?”
“I’m not trying to make you to tell anyone anything. They already know. I’m encouraging you to face your fears and talk to them about it.”
That made sense, actually. Fine. So he was talking, to real people, about this real thing. He could do that.
Maintaining stable friendships sucked. This was so much work. How did people do it?
“Why are you always right?” Jake asked, fake-pouting at her. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Amy smirked and leaned in to kiss him, hand still cradling his face. “I know,” she smiled against his lips.
It’s safe to assume he didn’t think about Rosa or Holt again that night.
After fifteen minutes of being intermittently kicked by a steel-toed shoe under the desk, Jake lifted his eyes to glare at his girlfriend. She looked up from her computer screen and caught his eye, smiling innocently.
“Can I help you?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Yeah,” Jake said, “you can stop bruising my shins.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to digitize last month’s reports. Oh, hey, unrelated, but the Captain’s door is open and he doesn’t look very busy.”
Jake glanced at Holt’s office over her shoulder – to humor her, of course. The Captain definitely wasn’t busy. He was doing the newspaper sudoku. In a physical newspaper, like a freak.
“Yeah, he doesn’t. Your point is?”
“Also entirely unrelated, Rosa’s in the break room, alone, I think.”
Jake tried to intensify his glare, but he remembered a stray comment Amy made a few weeks back about how his angry face bore a striking resemblance to that of an angry puppy, and stopped. Damn his boyishly charming good looks. Amy smirked knowingly.
She wasn’t going to give this up, and he couldn’t get anything done with her repeatedly abusing his ankle. “Fine. Who first?”
“I repeat: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Excuse me, I really should get back to work.”
He was doing this alone, then. Cool, cool, cool, cool. Who first?
Holt, who could fire him, or Rosa, who could kill him (but probably wouldn’t over something like this. He hoped.)
The idea of being fired made him want to puke, violently. On the other hand, death would come as a sweet relief after the week he’d had. Rosa first.
When Jake walked into the break room, she was hunched over in front of the coffee machine, hands braced on the table, glaring at the slow trickle of brain juice filling the pot.
(Note to self: don’t ever call coffee brain juice again. That’s super gross.)
“Heyyy, Rosa!” Jake smiled, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. “What’s up, what’s crack-alakin’, what’s good, homie?” He winced. He should stop talking for, like, ever.
Rosa straightened up immediately, giving him a once over before looking pointedly back at the coffee. “Oh, uh. Hey.”
“Right,” Jake said. “So, hmm, I’m just gonna dive right into this – are you mad at me?”
She looked at him in what Jake would, if he didn’t know any better, call a brief flash of surprise. “What? No, why would I be mad? Did you do something I should be mad about?” She advanced toward him, eyes flashing.
“No!” Jake held his hands up in defense. “Just because. You know, you kind of left in a hurry yesterday when I...accidentally said...that.”
“That you have ADHD?”
“Yeah. That’s what I was obviously implying when I said that, come on, Rosa, get it together. I’m joking, please don’t hurt me!”
Jake couldn’t tell if she was glaring at him or not. Her glare and her resting face were basically identical. She rolled her eyes, snatching a paper cup off the table as the coffee maker beeped.
“I’m not mad,” she said. “Who would be mad over that? Don’t be stupid.”
Jake resisted the urge to point out that a lot of very normal things made her mad.
“Then why’d you run out like that?” He asked.
“You were talking about personal shit, of course I ran out,” Rosa said. Jake was shaking his head before she was halfway through the sentence. “You can’t just spring emotions on me, Peralta.” She shuddered.
“Uh, no, when people are talking about personal shit, you don’t want them to get all emotional and ask why you’re leaving so you make a sneaky spy exit – which is always super cool, by the way, big fan, hashtag feminism, ha, amiright? Okay -”
“I knew a girl in high school who had ADHD,” Rosa interrupted. Jake blinked. She was staring at the clock on the wall above them, one knee bouncing faintly. “She killed herself.”
Oh. Yikes.
“Oh. Yikes. I mean, uh. Sorry? Wow, this was a massive failure, I’ll just, uh...go, now.”
“I felt bad,” she continued through gritted teeth. Jake stopped mid-step, turning back to look at her in surprise. “When she died. And when you said that...I just can’t believe I didn’t notice. You could have done something stupid and...” She shook her head and groaned. “Whatever. Just go.”
Jake felt his heart drop into his stomach. That was what that weird conversation was about, over a year ago, when she dragged him by his ear into this very break room to tell him off. He felt the strange urge to comfort her.
“Well, hey – I didn’t,” he said weakly. “And I’m never gonna, alright? Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a boy scout.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Peralta, just go,” she growled, locking eyes with him again. “It’s stupid. I’ll get over it.”
“It’s not stupid,” Jake said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed it was all just about me.”
“It kind of is about you,” Rosa said. “Other stuff, too. But also you.”
There was a long silence, then she continued: “I didn’t want you to die. Or to live and feel like shit about yourself. You’re – God, I can’t believe I’m saying this – you’re my...friend.” She cleared her throat. “I’m a detective. I should have made the connection, but I didn’t.”
“I’m a detective,” he pointed out, “and it took me literally thirty-three years, okay? Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your job to know everything.”
There was a long stretch of silence. Jake wondered momentarily if he’d overstepped her boundaries and earned a death sentence. Then Rosa nodded.
“You’re right,” she said shortly. She was closing off again, but she looked like she felt better. Kind of. Maybe? It was so hard to tell. “It’s not. Thanks, Peralta.”
Jake beamed at her. “Aw, your heart is so soft and mushy!”
“Repeat any of this to anyone and I’ll slit your throat while you sleep.”
“Yeah, okay, I’m gonna go. But since we’re sharing: I also occasionally have intense periods of crippling depression.”
“Wait, what?”
“Good talk! Nine-nine!”
Somehow, talking to Holt was significantly scarier than talking to Rosa, which was insane. Holt could never be scarier than Rosa.
Rosa had feelings and Holt was scarier than her. The entire universe was turning upside down.
Amy didn’t say a word to Jake as he passed by their desks on the way from the break room to Holt’s office (if he was going to do this it had to be now, or he would never have the courage to again) but he could see her smiling to herself like she just knew everything. She’d been doing that a lot lately. It was super hot.
But, anyway.
Jake knocked on Holt’s open door, forcing his most dazzling smile. “Hey, Cap’n Crunch! That was weird, why did I say that? You know what, nevermind, I’m just gonna -”
“Peralta.” Holt removed his reading glasses, using them to gesture at the chairs opposite his desk as he tossed the newspaper down. “Please, have a seat. I was meaning to talk to you.”
Welp, this was it. He was going to be clearing out his desk in a matter of seconds. It was an eery deja-vu back to the last time Jake was sure he was going to be fired and Holt actually sent him for a psych evaluation instead, which ironically kicked off the same series of events that led him to be in the Captain’s office now. What a trip. Except this time Jake was pretty sure he really was going to be fired.
“Oh...noice. Dope. I’ll...sit down, then.” Jake shut the office door behind him.
“Why are you closing the door?” Holt asked.
“Uhhhhhhhhiii’m not panicking, you’re panicking!”
“What?”
“What?”
Holt gave him a Look. “Peralta, for God’s sakes, just sit down.”
Jake slowly perched on the very edge of the chair, white-knuckling the arm rests for dear life. Holt glanced down at the detective’s hands and clicked his tongue.
“Right,” he said. “Your extremely odd behavior aside, I was going to inquire as to how your drugs bust is coming along.”
Jake’s jaw dropped a few inches. “Uhhhh…”
“Have you even staked out the warehouse yet?” Holt frowned disapprovingly. Jake never thought he’d be so relieved to see his boss disappointed in him. “You said you were going to do it yesterday. I have no qualms handing this case off to somebody else if you can’t handle it.”
“Wait...” Jake said, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you didn’t hear any of that in the bullpen yesterday?”
“Of course I did,” Holt said. “Is that relevant to this case?”
“You’re not going to fire me?” Jake asked in disbelief.
“Would you...like me to fire you?”
“No!” Jake shouted. “I mean, uh, no. Nah. We’re good. We’re good, right?”
Holt looked at him questioningly. He set down his glasses and leaned forward, interlocking his hands on the desk. Jake found himself leaning forward along with him.
“Peralta.” He paused. “You do realize I receive a report summarizing every psychological field clearance? Which includes any relevant diagnoses, referrals and psych prescriptions. Why else wouldn’t I have suspended you when there were amphetamines in your urine during the last drug testing?”
“Wait, amphetamines? Why were there amphetamines in my urine?!”
Holt blinked. “I assumed you were aware that I knew. You had to sign a release form before taking the evaluation.”
“That’s what that was?” Jake asked. “I thought that was a waiver. You know, ‘if talking about your feelings in therapy makes you want to go jump off a bridge or something, the NYPD cannot be held responsible.’” Holt cocked his head to the side.
“Do you actually know how to read?”
“Pffftttt...kinda.”
“And do you...want to jump off a bridge?”
“Not since January, Cap’n Crunch!” Jake smiled, then grimaced. “I really need to stop calling you that, it wasn’t any funnier the second time.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Holt said. He put his reading glasses back on and shook out the paper. “Go find somebody to join you on your stakeout, or I’m giving the case to Diaz.”
Jake rose from his seat, feeling unnecessarily giddy.
“Roger that! No, not Roger. That’s my dad’s name. My dad sucks.”
Holt glared at him over the paper. “Peralta.”
“Right, a stakeout. Cool, cool, cool, no doubt -”
“Peralta!”
“Nice talk, thanks, love you, byyeee!”
Amy kissed his cheek, and Jake smiled. That always gave him butterflies.
But, you know. Manly butterflies. In speedos and stuff. Oh, God, ew, nevermind.
“I’m so proud of you,” she told him, taking both of his hands in hers. He knew she was, because she was holding his hands right outside of the precinct, on a public sidewalk. Amy technically considered this ‘at work’ and she blanched at PDA in the workplace. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
“Kay, Ames? You gotta cool it with the told you so’s.”
“Well, I did tell you so,” she grinned playfully. “But you did all of this yourself.” Amy shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything. It was all you.”
To be fair, the brave announcement was less of a brave announcement and more of an impulsive why-doesn’t-my-mouth-have-a-filter moment, but Jake didn’t need to remind her of that. He could bask in her praise a little while longer.
“I love you,” he told her. She practically glowed, and he loved that he could have that kind of effect on her just by speaking a simple truth.
“I love you, too.”
And now everything really was alright. Not that it hadn’t been before. But she wasn’t wrong when she said it was killing him to feel like he was keeping a secret from everyone. She also wasn’t wrong when she called the nine-nine their family. Maybe she deserved to have a gloat-y I-told-you-so attitude, after all.
“Hey, Ames? I do have one question.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Why the hell are there amphetamines in my urine?”