A few seconds passed. Maybe more. Long enough for the light to climb higher on the wall, long enough for me to realize my hand had settled at her waist and wasn’t going anywhere.
Then she tilted her head back to look at me. Slowly. Like she was checking something. Her dark eyes were still soft with sleep, unfocused at the edges, the sharpness I knew so well dulled into something gentler.
“You’re not moving.”
I huffed a quiet breath through my nose, the corner of my mouth lifting despite myself.
“Neither are you.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. I was learning to read those almost-smiles, the ones she gave when she was satisfied but not quite ready to admit it.
Eventually, we did get up. Made coffee together, moving around the kitchen in the easy rhythm we’d developed over months of sharing space. Her mug sat next to mine on the counter now. Her boots by the door, next to my boots.
Small things. Ordinary things. The kind of things that built a life without anyone noticing.
Riley hummed while she made eggs, some song I didn’t recognize, slightly off-key. She’d started doing that lately. Humming. Like happiness was leaking out of her in ways she couldn’t control.
Mia came downstairs in her school clothes, hair still tangled from sleep, and didn’t even blink at finding us together in the kitchen. Didn’t comment on the fact that Riley had clearly come from my room rather than hers. Just grabbed a piece of toast and asked if she could visit Honey before the bus came.
Like this was how it had always been. Like we were a family.
Maybe we already had been.
First shift back at the station since Riley and I got together. Or whatever we were calling it. Together felt too small a word for what we were, but I didn’t have a better one yet.
I tried to act normal. Failed immediately.
It started with my phone. When I checked it, Riley had texted—nothing important, just a picture of Honey nosing Mia’s pocket for treats. I smiled at the screen without thinking, and when I looked up, Owen was watching me from across the apparatus bay.
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded once, a quiet approval in his expression, and went back to checking equipment.
Cal was less subtle.
“All right, what happened?” He fell into step beside me as I headed to the kitchen. “You’re smiling more than usual, and that’s saying something.”
“I smile a normal amount.”
“You smile more than anyone I know. But this? This is different.” He studied me with that knowing look, the one that said he’d already figured out whatever I was trying to hide. “This is the smile of a man who’s got something good going on at home.”
“Maybe I just had a good breakfast.”
“Liar.”
The bay doors opened before I could respond. Riley walked in, already in uniform, pulling her hair back into its usual tight braid. Our eyes met across the apparatus floor.
Just a second too long.
I looked away first, tried to focus on the coffee maker, but it was too late. The damage was done.
“Ha!” Kowalski’s voice echoed through the bay. He was one of the newer guys, six months on the crew, still young enough to find everything entertaining. “Pay up, Reyes. I told you it would happen before the six-month mark.”
I turned to find half the crew grinning at us. Reyes, Kowalski’s partner in crime and fellow rookie, was already pulling out his wallet with an exaggerated groan.
“Seriously?” Riley crossed her arms, but I caught the small smile she was trying to hide. “You had a bet going?”
“Have had,” Owen corrected. “Since about week three.”
“Week three?”
