“I keep thinking about that night,” Jamie said. “I keep thinking about how I didn’t want to leave your bed.”
Erin swallowed. “I keep thinking about how quiet it was when you did.”
Jamie’s hand found Erin’s knee, warm even through the denim. “Can I stay tonight?”
“Yes,” Erin said, and it came out low.
They didn’t rush. Jamie kissed her like she wanted to remember every angle. Erin let herself lean. She felt Jamie’s hand slide to her jaw, felt the careful press of thumb against her pulse, like she was being measured and chosen, both.
The world narrowed to the soft drag of lips and the small sounds they made without meaning to. Erin felt a crack open in the guarded part of her and didn’t close it. She moved her hand to Jamie’s waist and found the place that made her inhale.
“Bedroom,” Jamie murmured, and Erin nodded.
Leo lifted his head as they stood, sighed like a chaperone, and put it back down. Erin flicked off the kitchen light as they passed and felt the apartment shrink to shadows and the line of light under her bedroom door.
They were gentle with each other. Erin noticed the way Jamie paused to look at her, like a question she wanted to answer right. She noticed how easyit felt to say what she wanted and have Jamie listen. The first time had been urgent. This was slow. This was careful. This was the kind of intimacy that made Erin’s chest ache because it asked her to be present, not perfect.
After, they lay on their sides, breath evening out, the room dim and soft. Erin traced a line over Jamie’s shoulder with a fingertip and felt the day peel off her skin.
“Stay,” Erin said into the quiet.
“I’m here,” Jamie said, and turned her face to press her mouth against Erin’s wrist.
Leo thunked his tail once against the bedroom doorframe and then went quiet again. The clock on the dresser didn’t tick, but Erin could feel the time anyway. Monday had done its work. She felt the sweetness of it settle in her teeth.
“Tell me something true,” Jamie said, voice a thread in the dark.
Erin stared at the ceiling and let the words come without fuss. “I forgot to buy cannoli, and I thought maybe I could skip the ritual. Then you texted and it turns out I can’t. Not if you’re part of it.”
Jamie smiled, small and real. “I’ll try not to ruin it for you.”
“Impossible,” Erin said. “You’ll make it worse. In a good way.”
They were quiet awhile. The city outside rubbed along its own night. Somewhere a car door closed. A neighbor laughed. Erin felt sleep pull at her. She also felt the other pull, the one that lived under her ribs and wore a badge. The case that wasn’t public yet. The one that would want every inch of her, and then more, and then she would have to learn how to return to herself after.
“Work’s going to get loud,” she said. “Soon.”
Jamie’s hand found hers and laced their fingers. “Then we’ll be loud back when you can. And quiet when you can’t.”
Erin turned enough to see her. “I don’t want to lose this. Whatever name we give it.”
“We don’t have to name it tonight,” Jamie said. “We just have to keep choosing it.”
Erin let that settle. Choosing it. Monday made a rule of that. She could too.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay,” Jamie echoed, and closed her eyes.
Erin stayed awake a little longer, counting the rise and fall of the woman sharing her bed and wondering how many more of these nights she’d get before everything shifted. She could feel the edge of the high-profile case in the room with them, like a draft under a door no one had opened yet. She set the thought on the nightstand next to her phone and let it be.
In the morning there would be coffee. In the fridge there would be one cannoli left because Jamie had insisted. She pictured Leo watching them like he was owed a bite of something sweet. She pictured Jamie’s laugh when Erin made herself save the second.
She let her eyes close. Monday had done its job. Sweet and simple and sure. The storm could wait a few more hours.
Thirty Three
The podium light was too bright. Erin adjusted the mic once, twice, until the feedback died down and the room stilled. She could hear the soft whir of camera shutters and the click of pens tapping against notebooks. Her uniform collar felt snug, tighter than usual, the fabric stiff under the weight of command eyes behind her.
