Erin.
Leaning against the far wall, dressed head to toe in black, drink in hand, eyes narrowed in the way that didn’t say jealousy, it said ownership.
Ava didn’t say anything right away. She just arched one brow andtook a slow, deliberate breath. Her body shifted almost imperceptibly in my arms, her spine going rigid, and I hated that Erin had that effect on her.
“You know your girlfriend’s staring at me, right?” Ava’s voice was even, but sharp enough to cut.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Ava tilted her head. “Could’ve fooled me. Looks like someone didn’t get the breakup memo.”
My jaw clenched. I tightened my grip on her slightly, just enough to keep the dance moving, to keep her close. To keepusin motion.
“Erin and I… it wasn’t serious. It was barely a thing. When I first came home. Before I was her boss. Before I became Chief.”
“Convenient.”
Her tone was acid, but her eyes, damn her eyes, were searching. Testing me.
I let the silence settle a beat longer before adding, “I ended it when my dad died. When I stepped into this job. I knew I couldn’t keep things… murky.”
Ava gave a humourless smile, one corner of her mouth tugging up like she wanted to believe me but didn’t trust herself to. And not for the first time, I wondered how she lived in a world with jade-colored glasses, always expecting the blade to fall.
“She doesn’t seem to be on the same page as you.”
“She’s not used to hearing no,” I said simply. “Or being replaced.”
She scoffed and tried to pull away, but I held firm, steady as stone.
“I’m not a replacement, Chief.”
Her words were sharp, defensive, and entirely correct.
“I know,” I said without hesitation.
She looked up at me then, ocean eyes dark with warning. “I’m not built for drama, Chief. I wade through enough of it at work. I don’t want to be anywhere near it in my personal life.”
“I’m too old for it.”
“Then what are you built for?”
That one landed like a punch disguised as poetry. For a second, I almost forgot we weren’t alone, that a dozen people were stealingglances at us, that Erin was practically burning holes in Ava’s back from across the room.
I took a breath, steady and low. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I know I’m tired of half-truths. Of lonely nights. Tired of pretending it’s enough just to show up in a uniform and hope things change. That I am happy being alone.”
“And you think I’m the answer?”
“I think you’re the challenge.”
That earned me a look—sharp, skeptical, maybe a little curious.
“A good one,” I clarified, jaw twitching. “The kind that makes me want to do better. Be better.”
She didn’t soften. But she didn’t try to pull away again either.
We turned slowly, once more, just enough for the world to blur around us. Erin stayed in the corner of my vision like a storm cloud I couldn’t quite banish. But Ava was in my arms. Ava was fire and defiance and fragility, I knew she’d never admit. And I couldn’t let go.
“I’m not asking for anything tonight,” I said. “I’m not making promises. I just want...”
