Jade's last thought before sleep claimed her was that this—this vulnerability, this honesty, this terrifying leap into loving someone—was worth every moment of fear.
They'd both carry their ghosts, the ones they couldn't save. But maybe, together, they could carry each other too.
11
The drawer had happened without discussion.
Maddox noticed it Tuesday morning while getting dressed for her shift: Jade's sleep shirt folded next to her own, plus a pair of leggings and underwear. Small things that had migrated over the past few weeks until they just lived here now, in the second drawer of Maddox's dresser.
She stood there with her hand on the drawer handle, Zeus watching from his bed in the corner.
"When did this happen?" she asked him.
Zeus's tail thumped once against the floor.
Maddox pulled out her uniform shirt and closed the drawer. It felt significant somehow, this quiet claiming of space. But she didn't examine it too closely; she didn't need to.
In the kitchen, she found Jade already up, making coffee in one of Maddox's old Marine Corps t-shirts that hit her mid-thigh. The morning light through the window caught in her hair, still messy from sleep.
"Morning," Jade said without turning around. They’d learned the sound of each other’s footsteps weeks ago, the weight and rhythm of them.
"Morning." Maddox leaned against the counter, watching Jade move through her kitchen like she belonged there. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep." Jade poured two mugs, added sugar and cream to her own, and left Maddox's black. "There’s a big session this afternoon with that officer from the March shooting."
Maddox accepted the coffee, their fingers brushing. "Davis?"
"Yeah." Jade's expression shifted into something more guarded, her professional boundaries sliding into place even here. "Can't talk about it, but?—"
"I know." Maddox did know. They'd gotten good at this, the careful navigation of what could and couldn't be shared. Jade's work was separate and protected, and Maddox respected that. "You'll handle it."
Jade smiled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "Thanks."
They stood there in the quiet kitchen, drinking coffee while Zeus crunched through his breakfast kibble in the corner. It was their morning routine—normal, comfortable, theirs.
"I've got the wellness committee meeting today," Maddox said, setting her empty mug in the sink.
"I know. I'll see you there." Jade's tone stayed neutral. At work, they were careful. No lingering looks, no casual touches, nothing that would draw unwanted attention.
But here, in Maddox's kitchen with Zeus as their only witness, Jade stepped closer. Her hand found Maddox's waist, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt.
"Tonight?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah." Maddox's hand came up to cup Jade's face, brushing her thumb across her cheekbone. "Your place or mine?"
"Yours. Zeus misses me when I'm gone too long."
It was true. Over the past few weeks, Zeus had stopped treating Jade like a tolerated intruder and started greeting herat the door, tail wagging, pressing against her legs for attention. The shift had been gradual but unmistakable.
The pack, Maddox thought.He thinks she's part of the pack now.
The realization sat heavy in her chest, warm and terrifying in equal measure.
"Okay," Maddox said. "Dinner. I'll cook."
"You sure? I can bring something."
"I'm sure."
