I flip the bacon strips, watching them curl and crisp. The heat from the stove warms my front while her body heat warms my back. "Honestly? A pilot. Thought I could fly far away from the shit I grew up with. Dad was military. Strict. Mom left when I was eight. Learned early that the only person you can really count on is yourself."
She pauses her whisking and looks over her shoulder at me. Those eyes soften but don't pity. They understand. "That sounds lonely. I'm glad you found your way to protecting people instead. Even if it makes you all broody and territorial."
I lean down and nip her earlobe, making her squeak. "That works for me. Especially with you. Your turn, librarian. What's the wildest book request you ever got at the library?"
Ava laughs, that bright bubbly sound that cuts right through the tension I always carry. She pours the eggs into another pan I heated for her. The soft scramble begins to set, yellow and fluffy. "Oh you're not ready for this. Someone once asked for books on taxidermy for beginners because they wanted to preserve their pet goldfish. Another wanted romance novels but only the ones where the hero is a sentient houseplant. I kid you not. I helped them find alien plant erotica. I guess it’s a thing."
I bark out a real laugh, the kind that surprises even me. The potatoes hit the skillet next with a satisfying hiss, oil popping as I season them with salt and pepper from the supplies. Thecombined smells of breakfast make my stomach rumble. "You're something else, Ava Simpson. Most people see the badge and shut down. You just keep sparkling no matter what."
She bumps her hip against mine playfully, growing more confident with every minute. "That's because you make me feel safe enough to sparkle, Jax. Now stir those potatoes before they burn. I want crispy edges."
"Yes ma'am." I obey, stirring the wedges until they turn golden. Steam rises fragrant with herbs. We work side by side in an easy rhythm. She adds cheese to the eggs at the perfect moment, the sharp cheddar melting into creamy folds. I plate the bacon on paper towels to drain, the crispy strips still sizzling faintly.
"Tell me more about your life before this mess," I say, voice quieter as I pour two mugs of fresh coffee. I hand her one and watch her wrap both hands around it, inhaling deep.
Ava takes a sip and hums happily. "Library was my sanctuary. Mom raised me alone after Dad passed. She worked an accounting job but always made sure I had books. I spent summers shelving and reading everything I could get my hands on." She glances up at me, eyes steady and warm. "Until you showed up at the circulation desk looking like trouble wrapped in muscle."
I set my mug down and pull her close for a moment, kissing the top of her head. The domestic feel of it sinks deep into my bones. "You're not just living it. You're rewriting the rules."
"What about you? Marshals don't exactly strike me as the type who let people in easy."
I'm quiet a second, weighing how much to give her. But she's already cracked me open wider than anyone has in years, soI figure I might as well finish the job. "You know Mason. My partner. Closest thing I've got to a brother."
"The gray-eyed one who looks like he's never lost a staring contest in his life."
"That's him." I almost smile. "About eight months back he caught a protection detail. Witness named Riley. Ran from her own kind of mess—different bad guys, similar nightmare to yours. He took her up to his cabin in the Steel Mountains, not far from here, and didn't surface for a while.”
Ava's eyebrows go up over the rim of her mug. “Really? That sounds suspiciously familiar."
"Yeah. I gave him hell for it at the time." I shake my head, remembering. "Told him he was breaking every rule in the book. Risking his badge, his pension, his neck. He just looked at me and said the rules stopped mattering the second he understood what losing her would feel like."
"And now?"
"Now they're together. He runs the field office clean, she's opening a bakery in Timber Creek, and he's about as insufferable as a man can get about it." I huff something that's almost a laugh. "I used to think he was an idiot for it. Reckless. Thought he'd torched his whole career over a few good moments in a cabin."
Ava sets her mug down slowly, watching my face like she already knows where this is going. "And now you don't think that."
"Now I get it." My voice drops, rougher than I mean it to come out. "Now I'm the idiot standing in a kitchen falling for a witnesswho quotes alien plant erotica statistics at me over breakfast, and I can't bring myself to care what it costs."
Heat rushes into her cheeks, that pretty flush I've gotten addicted to fast. "That might be the most romantic thing anyone's compared me to. Alien plant erotica and true love in the same sentence."
"Don't let it go to your head, librarian."
"Too late." She bites her lip, but the smile underneath it doesn't go anywhere. "So Riley really understands. What it's like. Being the one in the crosshairs."
"Better than anyone. If—when—this is over, you two should meet. I think you'd like her. She's sharper than she lets people see at first. Kind of like you."
Something shifts in Ava's expression, something quiet and hopeful that she doesn't try to joke away this time. "I'd like that. It's nice to think there's someone else out there who didn't just survive this kind of thing, but actually got something real on the other side of it."
"You will too." I say it like a fact, not a wish, because I've already decided it's going to be true no matter what I have to do to make it that way.
She studies me for a second, then seems to decide the moment's gotten heavy enough. "Okay, but does Mason also make terrible dad jokes, or is that purely a you thing?"
I grin and flip the last of the potatoes. "Dad jokes? Low blow. Here, taste this." I spear a crispy potato wedge and hold it to her lips. She bites down, eyes closing in bliss as the salty crunch hits.
"Perfect," she declares, licking her fingers. The sight goes straight to my cock but I behave. For now. "My turn to feed you." She scoops a bite of cheesy eggs onto a fork and offers it up. I take it, savoring the rich flavor and the way her eyes light up watching me eat.
We plate everything together. Bacon piled high, eggs fluffy and cheesy, potatoes crispy on the outside and soft inside. The coffee steams beside it all. We carry the plates to the small table by the window where sunlight streams in across the snow outside.
