Can we please just...
Erin, please…
She turned the phone off completely and set it in a kitchen drawer, closing it with a definitive click.
The silence that followed felt both peaceful and oppressive. No buzzing, no notifications, no desperate attempts to walk back words that couldn't be taken back. Just her, in her apartment, with the remains of what had been one of the most significant relationships in her life.
Erin changed out of her fire department polo and into clothes that didn't remind her of work: sweatpants and an old college t-shirt. She made fresh coffee, throwing out the ruined pot from this morning along with the soggy paper towels. The familiar ritual felt grounding—measure, pour, wait. Simple steps that didn't require emotional labor.
While the coffee brewed, she looked around her apartment with new eyes. It hadn’t felt like “just hers” in a while. Over the past few weeks, traces of Lena had crept in: a book left on the coffee table, a hair tie on the bathroom counter, the lingering scent of her perfume on the couch cushions. Now those traces felt like evidence of something that had never been as real as she'd thought.
The book went back in her bag and the hair tie in the trash. She opened the windows to clear the air.
By evening, Erin had cleaned her apartment twice, reorganized her files and bookshelf, and started a load of laundry that didn't really need washing. Keeping busy felt better than sitting still, better than thinking about the look on Lena's face when she'd asked if she could really change and gotten only silence in return.
She ordered takeout from the Thai place she'd introduced to Lena, then immediately regretted it when the familiar flavors reminded her of nights when their biggest decision had beenwhether to eat on the couch or at the table. She pushed the food around on her plate until it got cold, then put it in the refrigerator next to leftovers she'd probably never eat.
The apartment felt too quiet without the constant buzzing of her phone. She'd gotten used to texts throughout the day: case updates, random observations, pictures of crime scenes or coffee cups or whatever had caught Lena's attention. The silence was what she'd asked for, what she'd needed, but it felt heavier than she'd expected.
She retrieved her phone from the drawer long enough to check for work messages, scrolling past fourteen texts from Lena without reading them. No fires, no emergencies, no reason to break the radio silence she'd imposed.
The phone went back in the drawer.
As night crept in, Erin sat on her couch with a cup of tea she didn't want and a book she couldn't focus on. The apartment was clean, her laundry was folded, and she'd successfully avoided thinking about Detective Lena Soto for entire minutes at a time.
But the solitude and quiet were getting to her.
She'd spent so many evenings here with Lena, talking about the case or sharing takeout or finding excuses to touch each other while pretending they were just colleagues. The couch still held the impression of where Lena liked to sit, curled against the armrest with her legs tucked under her, stealing bites of whatever Erin was eating.
Those memories felt both precious and poisonous now, evidence of something beautiful that had been built on a foundation of fundamental incompatibility.
Erin closed her book and looked out her window at the city lights. Somewhere out there, Lena was probably sitting in her own living room, maybe staring at her phone, maybe wondering if this was really how things had to end.
Or maybe she was relieved. Maybe this confirmed what she'd thought all along—that Erin was too reckless, too stubborn, too young to be worth the worry.
The thought should have made her angry again, but she just felt tired.
Her phone buzzed from the drawer, a sound she could hear even through the wood. Then again. Then again.
Erin sat perfectly still and let it buzz.
She'd told Lena what she needed: trust, respect, the freedom to do her job without being second-guessed or undermined. Simple things that shouldn't have been too much to ask from someone who claimed to care about her.
But Lena couldn't give her those things. She had admitted as much when she'd called Erin careless, when she'd stood there unable to promise she could change. Love without respect wasn't love at all.
The buzzing stopped.
Erin picked up her cup of tea, cold now, and took a sip anyway. Tomorrow she'd have to go back to work, back to the fire station where everyone would eventually figure out that whatever had been happening between the fire marshal and the detective was over. She'd have to work with the police department, maybe even with Lena, and pretend that her personal life hadn't just imploded.
But she'd handle it. She'd been handling her job perfectly well before Lena Soto came along, and she'd continue handling it after.
The case would get solved. The arsonist would be caught. Phoenix Ridge would be safe again.
And Erin would do it all without someone looking over her shoulder, questioning her decisions, or going behind her back to her boss.
She'd do it alone, the way she'd always done everything important.
Her phone buzzed one more time, then fell silent.
