It hit her all at once. The memory. The closeness. The sound of Jamie’s voice murmuring her name, the weight of her hands, the way she had looked at her like she meant it.
Erin closed her eyes, pressing her palms against the counter until her knuckles went white. She had never been good at this part, the quiet after. When everything slowed down and the walls she built started to tilt. She had spent years keeping herself on the giving side of things, never letting anyone close enough to see her falter. It had always been safer that way.
But this wasn’t safe, not anymore.
Her breathing came too fast, too shallow. She turned on the faucet and let cold water run over her hands before splashing it onto her face. The chill helped, grounding her for a moment, but it didn’t quiet the shaking in her chest.
Behind her, Leo nosed the bathroom door open with a soft whine. Erin looked down to see his head tilt, eyes glinting in the half-light. “I’m fine,” she whispered. Her voice was rough, almost convincing. She scratched behind his ear until his tail gave one lazy wag before he turned back toward the bedroom.
When she finally followed, she saw the faint outline of Jamie on the bed. Moonlight caught in her hair, spreading across the pillow. One arm was stretched toward the empty space Erin had left behind.
Something inside Erin cracked open at the sight.
Jamie was here because she wanted to be. Not because she needed anything from her. Not because she was trying to prove something. Just because she wanted her.
Erin stood in the doorway for a long time, feeling the last of the panic drain out of her. The fear didn’t disappear completely, but it softened enough to breathe through.
She crossed the room and eased under the covers. Leo had already curled up at the foot of the bed, his steady breathing filling the quiet. The mattress dipped as Jamie stirred. Her arm moved instinctively, wrapping around Erin’s middle, fingertips brushing her skin.
“You okay?” Jamie murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
“Yeah,” Erin whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
Jamie hummed, pressing her face into Erin’s shoulder, already slipping under again.
Erin stayed still for a long moment, letting her breathing fall into rhythm with Jamie’s. The fear that had gripped her minutes earlier eased into something softer, something she wasn’t used to letting herself feel.
She rested her hand lightly over Jamie’s where it circled her waist. Jamie’s fingers curled in response, a small, unconscious answer that loosened the last knot in Erin’s chest.
She lay there in the quiet, staring into the dim room, letting the warmth at her back hold her steady.
For the first time in a long while, Erin let herself stay.
Thirty
The briefing room buzzed with that electric kind of noise that always came before something big. Microphones clicked into place. Tripods stood shoulder to shoulder. The podium light flattened every face it touched.
Then Erin stepped into it.
Jamie straightened without meaning to. Erin looked steady and sharp in a navy blazer that framed her shoulders perfectly, every movement crisp and controlled. She adjusted the mic once, then lifted her gaze — not at Jamie, not at anyone in particular, but in that poised, all-encompassing way she used when she owned a room.
“Good afternoon,” Erin said, voice clear and even. “As many of you know, the Boston Police Department has launched a joint task force with the Massachusetts State Police to address the growing number of organized retail thefts occurring across the metro area.”
Jamie took notes, but more of her attention stayed fixed on Erin. Seeing her like this — composed, unflinching, fully in her element — sent a warm, steady feeling through her chest. It shouldn’t have surprised her after last night, but it did. The woman who had curled into her under soft sheets felt miles away from the polished calm standing behind the podium now.
Both versions were real. That was the part that caught Jamie off guard.
Erin continued outlining the partnership, the shared intel system, and the cross-agency support the task force would provide. When she paused for questions, Jamie lifted her hand almost on instinct.
Erin’s eyes found hers.
There was no flicker of recognition. No echo of the warmth from the nightbefore. Just the cool, practiced professionalism Jamie had seen at every briefing before they’d ever crossed a personal line.
It made her pulse jump all the same.
“Jamie Garrison, WCVB. Can you confirm whether any search or arrest warrants have already been executed as part of this operation?”
The silence that followed felt like it was holding its breath.
