Chapter 12 #3
They fell into an easy rhythm—Erin chopping vegetables while Lena handled the chicken, working around each other in the small kitchen with the kind of coordination that came from practice.
Erin’s favorite Spotify playlist, something low and instrumental, played softly in the background.
Outside, the October evening darkened into night.
"Hand me the garlic?" Lena asked.
Erin reached for the clove near her cutting board and slid it across the counter before going back to slicing bell peppers. "Olive oil's in the cabinet above the stove."
They'd done this before over the past week, these quiet evenings that felt more real than any of the intensity that had come before.
No desperate passion or secret meetings or walls carefully maintained.
Just this: cooking dinner together, shoulders brushing as they moved between counter and stove, and the comfortable silence of two people who didn't need to fill every moment with words.
Lena added the chicken to the pan, the sizzle loud in the quiet apartment. "Tomorrow's going to be early."
"Five-thirty briefing, on site by six." Erin scraped the vegetables into a bowl. "You nervous?"
"About catching him? No." Lena adjusted the heat and flipped the chicken with practiced efficiency. "About him being desperate enough to do something stupid? Yes."
Erin leaned against the counter, watching Lena work. "He doesn't know we're coming."
"He knows someone is. Eventually." Lena glanced over and met Erin's eyes. "Six fires, two deaths, and an accomplice arrested. He has to know the investigation is closing in."
"That's why we're going at dawn. Before he can run or destroy evidence." Erin moved to stir the pasta, testing it for doneness. "And you'll have tactical support. It's not just you walking up to his door."
"I know." Lena set down the spatula, turned to face her fully. "And you'll be there for the fire evidence. We're doing this together, like we planned."
There was weight in those words, an acknowledgment of everything they'd fought about and fought through to get here.
"Together," Erin agreed, then smiled. "Now stop letting the chicken burn."
Lena turned back with a muttered curse, but the chicken was fine. They finished cooking in comfortable quiet, plating the food and carrying it to Erin's small dining table. Erin lit the candles she kept there, and they sat across from each other like they'd done this a thousand times.
"This is good," Lena said after the first bite.
Erin twirled pasta on her fork. "We make a good team in the kitchen too."
"We make a good team everywhere," Lena said simply.
They ate in easy silence for a while, the kind of quiet that felt full rather than empty. Through the window came distant traffic sounds and voices from neighboring apartments, the regular sounds of evening.
"What are you going to do?" Erin asked. "After we close this case?"
Lena looked up, surprised. "Sleep for about twelve hours. Then probably start the next case."
"I meant—" Erin set down her fork. "What are we going to do? About us. About not keeping it secret anymore."
Lena was quiet for a moment, considering. "We’ll file the disclosure forms and tell our teams officially, though Julia already knows and Hallie probably suspects."
"And then?"
"And then we just...are." Lena reached across the table, clasping Erin's hand. "No more hiding. No more wondering who knows or who's guessing. Just us, doing our jobs, being together."
"You're okay with that? Being visible?"
"I'm tired of hiding." Lena's thumb traced across Erin's knuckles. "Ashford targeted those spaces because he wanted to push people back into the shadows and make them invisible again. I'm not going to do that to us."
Erin felt something warm settle in her chest, solid and certain. "We're going to get looks. Probably some gossip."
"Let them look." Lena's smile was soft but real. "We solved this case together. We're good at our jobs. If people have a problem with us being together, that's their problem."
"When did you get so brave?"
"When I almost lost you." Lena said it simply, no drama or weight in her words, just truth. "I'm not wasting any more time being afraid of what people think."
Erin squeezed her hand. "So after tomorrow, we go public."
"After tomorrow, we go public." Lena squeezed back. "And then maybe we take a weekend off. Go somewhere that isn't a crime scene or a fire site. Sleep late. Eat food we didn't cook in borrowed kitchens."
"That sounds perfect."
They finished dinner talking about small things: where they might go for that weekend, whether Erin's lease was up soon, if Lena's ribs would be healed enough for a hike in a few weeks. Normal conversations about a future they were both confident they'd have.
Later, after dishes were washed and the apartment was dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows, they got ready for bed with the easy routine of people who'd done this before.
Erin set her alarm for four-thirty, and Lena laid out tomorrow's clothes where she could find them without thinking.
In bed, Lena pulled Erin close, and Erin fit against her like she belonged there, her head on Lena's shoulder and one arm draped across her waist.
"You know what's strange?" Erin said into the darkness.
"What?"
"I'm not scared. About tomorrow, I mean. I know I should be—we're going after someone who's killed two people and set six fires—but I'm not scared."
"Neither am I." Lena's fingers traced idle patterns on Erin's shoulder. "Maybe that's what partnership means. Facing dangerous things and not being scared because you're not facing them alone."
"Maybe." Erin was quiet for a moment. "Or maybe we're both just too stubborn to be scared."
Lena laughed softly. "That too."
They fell into comfortable silence, their breath syncing and the weight of tomorrow present but not overwhelming. Erin felt Lena's breathing deepen, evening out into sleep. She closed her own eyes, letting exhaustion pull her under.
Tomorrow would come soon enough, and Erin knew they were ready.