"I think it's time," I said eventually. "To ask Sloane to publish."
Ava pulled back and looked up at me. "You think so?"
"The DA moved. The grand jury is convening. The story was going to come out anyway—better it came from someone who’d tell it right, someone who'll make sure Derek Edwards' family gets the truth they deserve."
She nodded slowly. "I'll call her tomorrow."
"We're really doing this."
“Yeah. We are."
We drank our coffee. Made breakfast together—nothing fancy, just eggs and whatever was in the fridge. Talked about everything and nothing. Normal. Domestic. Ours.
Eventually, the conversation turned to the exam.
"Three days," Ava said, settling back onto the couch with her mug. "You ready?"
"As ready as I'm going to be." I sat beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched. "Thanks to a certain demanding instructor who refused to let me fail."
"I didn't refuse to let you fail. I just made failure too unpleasant to consider."
"Same thing."
She smiled—that private smile that was just for me. "You're going to do great, Brian. You know the material. You've put in the work. All that's left is showing up and proving what I already know."
"What's that?"
"That you're going to be an incredible paramedic." She leaned into me. "Rodriguez was right about you."
I kissed the top of her head. "I believe it now."
"Good." She tilted her face up, and I kissed her properly. Soft. Slow. Full of promise.
"Three more days," I murmured against her lips.
"And then we celebrate."
I was already counting the hours.
The testing center smelled like anxiety and industrial disinfectant.
I sat at my assigned computer station, one of thirty candidates scattered across the room in neat rows. The proctorhad given us the usual speech—no phones, no talking, raise your hand if you have a technical issue. Around me, people were already clicking through their exams, faces tight with concentration.
I stared at the screen. The cursor blinked, waiting.
Months of studying had led to this moment. Twelve hundred hours of coursework crammed between shift work and sleep deprivation. Nights on the couch with Ava curled beside me, her voice running through drug interactions and trauma protocols while Watson supervised from the armchair like a furry, judgmental professor emeritus.
Drug interaction: beta blockers and calcium channel blockers.
Additive effect. Risk of severe bradycardia and hypotension.
I could hear her voice in my head, precise and demanding. She'd pushed me harder than any instructor, expected more from me than I'd expected from myself. Because she knew I was capable—even when I didn't.
I thought about everyone who'd believed in me.
Rodriguez, pulling me aside after that commendation ceremony months ago.You’ve got more in you, Torres. It’s time to stop selling yourself short.
Shane, who'd never doubted. Who'd told me, flat out, that the voice in my head telling me I wasn't good enough was Carmen talking, not reality.
