"Your cat has spoken," Brian said.
I was too tired to argue anymore. Too tired to pretend I didn't want exactly this. To be somewhere safe, with someone who gave a damn.
"Thank you, Brian."
"Get some sleep." His voice was soft. "We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."
I was wearing a T-shirt he'd given me. My own clothes smelled like violation and spray paint, so I'd left them in a pile by the door. Watson curled at my feet. I stared at the ceiling and listened to Brian settling onto the couch in the living room. Thesounds of him were familiar. The creak of the cushions, the soft exhale as he got comfortable. The quiet meant he was still there.
I should have felt displaced.
Instead, I felt safe.
Brian was in the next room. Watson was purring at my feet. And I wasn't alone.
I closed my eyes and, for the first time since Kevin Lang's confession, slept without nightmares.
CHAPTER 5
Brian
I lay on my couch,staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of my own head.
Ava was in my bed. Wearing my shirt. Her cat was probably sprawled across my pillow, a fuzzy little gargoyle plotting world domination.
We were going to be roommates.
I couldn't stop smiling. Which was a problem, because I shouldn't be smiling. Ava's apartment had just been destroyed. Someone had broken in, trashed her things, and spray-painted a threat. She was scared and vulnerable and in danger.
And here I was, grinning at the ceiling like an idiot.
Not about the break-in. About what came next. The apartment hunt, the shared space, the possibility of coming home to her every day instead of just catching her on the balcony.
This wasn't the confession I'd been planning.
I'd been working up the courage for months, trying to find the right moment to tell her how I felt. Four years of dancing around it. Too afraid to risk what we had for what we could have.
And instead of a confession, I'd offered her a spare bedroom.
Not quite the grand romantic gesture I'd imagined.
I stared at the water stain on my ceiling, the one the super had been "getting to" for six months, and reminded myself of the rules. She's in trouble. She needs a friend.What kind of man takes advantage of that?
I wouldn't push. I wouldn't make her uncomfortable. I wouldn't complicate things when she was already dealing with so much.
But I was still happy. I couldn't help it. I was going to see her every day. Share a kitchen, a bathroom. All the small domestic moments I'd been dreaming about for years.
Was that selfish? Probably.
Did I care? Not as much as I should.
From the bedroom, I heard Watson meow. A soft, questioning sound. Then Ava's voice, muffled through the wall: "Go to sleep, Watson."
I smiled at the ceiling.
You're in so much trouble, Torres.
The next shift, I walked into the station with what I suspected was a stupid expression on my face.
