I shook my head.“Traitor.”
Her hand slid into mine under the table, fingers warm, familiar.It didn’t spike my pulse the way it might have once.It just felt right.Like a habit forming.And that realization hit me harder than any flash of attraction.
Halfway through dinner, Lamonte and Nita were deep in conversation, heads bent together, voices low.Char watched them with a soft smile.
“She likes him,” Char murmured.
“He likes her,” I replied.
She nudged my knee.“We did good.”
“We did,” I agreed.
There was no pressure in the air.No forced moments.Just shared stories and laughter and the kind of comfort that comes when people stop performing and start being.When dessert came, Char ordered something chocolate-heavy and pushed the plate toward the center.“Sharing.”
I took a bite off my fork, catching her eye.“You planned this.”
She smiled innocently.“Maybe.”
Nita leaned back in her chair, studying Lamonte openly now.“So.Marines.”
“Once upon a time,” he shared without elaborating.“You?”
“I have a federal job.”She shrugged without elaborating.“Someone to clean up the messes the metro department leaves in it’s wake.”She teased us avoiding sharing what she actually did.
Lamonte laughed, genuine and loud.“Fair.”
The night ended without ceremony.No awkward goodbyes.No forced next steps.
Lamonte lingered with Nita outside the restaurant, conversation continuing like neither of them wanted it to end.Char squeezed my hand, watching her sister with quiet approval.
“I think she needed that,” she shared.
“So did he,” I replied.
On the drive home, Char rested her head against the window, eyes half-lidded.Peaceful.Unburdened.
“You were quiet tonight,” she said softly.
“Just taking it in.”
She smiled.“I like us like this.”
That word—us—settled somewhere deep in my chest.
“I do too,” I said, and meant it without hesitation.
When I dropped her off, she kissed my cheek before stepping away.Casual.Comfortable.Trusting.I watched her go, feeling something solid take root.Not love.But something real enough to protect.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel the urge to walk away from it.
Chapter4
Loco
Murder scenes have a smell.
It’s not just blood.It’s an entire space of toxic air and something stale that settles in the back of your throat and stays there long after clearing the tape.I had learned early on not to breathe too deep when I stepped into one.Not because it helped—because it gave me the illusion of control.
