Chapter 18
Eighteen
The booth was narrow, but Jamie didn’t mind.
Erin sat across from her, jacket tossed beside her, hair still a little messy from the drizzle outside.
For once, Erin looked nothing like the clipped, collected PIO she showed the world.
She looked like a friend unwinding at the end of the day, beer half-finished, reaching across the table like she owned the fries.
Jamie laughed as Erin swiped another one. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You weren’t eating it,” Erin said without a trace of guilt.
“I was about to.”
“Sure you were.” Erin leaned back in the booth, smug. “I’ll buy you another round to make up for it.”
Jamie shook her head, but the smile tugging at her mouth wouldn’t go away.
She found herself watching Erin a little longer than she should, the way her shoulders had loosened, the way the line of her jaw looked softer in the low bar light.
She looked lighter here, freer, none of the polished calm she carried into every briefing.
Jamie wondered if anyone else ever got to see this version of her.
Conversation drifted easily. They joked about traffic, swapped Sox predictions, laughed over office gossip.
The bar noise faded to background hum, and the hours slipped by without either of them noticing.
It wasn’t anything grand, just two women splitting a basket of fries and nursing beers that had long since lost their chill.
And somehow, Jamie thought, it was one of the best nights she’d had in a long time.
When they finally slid out of the booth, Erin grabbed her jacket and shook it out with a little grumble. Jamie bumped her shoulder as they headed toward the door, the casual touch sending a little spark up her arm.
“You’re not usually this chatty,” Jamie teased.
“Maybe you don’t usually ask the right questions,” Erin said.
She glanced over as she said it, quick but sharp, and the look was enough to send Jamie’s pulse skittering.
Erin stepped ahead to hold the door open, her hand braced against the frame.
As Jamie passed, she caught the faint warmth of Erin’s arm near her back, close enough to notice but not close enough to touch. It made her pulse skip anyway.
She told herself not to read into it. Erin was just being polite. Erin was always like this. Still, Jamie felt a flutter in her chest she couldn’t shake as they stepped into the damp air outside.
The door swung shut behind them, muting the low buzz of the bar. Outside, the night air was cooler and heavy with damp. A light drizzle speckled the pavement, but neither of them rushed.
“Guess your meteorologist was right,” Erin said, tipping her chin toward the clouds.
Jamie laughed under her breath. “He’s been warning me all week. Said this one was going to be a mess. I told him if he’s wrong, I’m filing a complaint with HR.”
Erin’s laugh slipped out, low and warm, and Jamie felt it settle somewhere in her chest. Erin didn’t bother with her hood, didn’t even blink when the drizzle turned heavier. She walked like she belonged in it, long strides steady, shoulders loose from the beer and the comfort of the night.
Jamie shoved her hands into her pockets, trailing a half-step behind, and let herself look.
The rain caught in Erin’s hair, dark strands plastered against her forehead.
Drops clung to her jawline and traced down the column of her throat before disappearing into the collar of her jacket.
The streetlight made her eyes look darker, softer, and Jamie wondered if anyone else had ever seen her this way.
She hated herself for staring, for how much she wanted to reach out and close the distance. She reminded herself she couldn’t. Not with Erin. Not with the badge between them. Not with the line she had already bent once tonight.
By the time they reached the corner, the drizzle had turned into full-on rain, beating against the pavement in sheets and forcing Jamie to blink through it.
She tugged her jacket tighter as they hurried toward the lot, water streaming down her face now, blurring the glow of the streetlights.
Her coat clung uselessly to her shoulders as she dug for her keys.
She managed a laugh, pressing the fob until the car beeped. “You’d think this city would offer hazard pay just for parking more than a block away.”
Erin shifted closer, rain dripping from her hair. “That or a medal for putting up with Boston weather.”
The headlights washed across the rain, throwing their shadows against the pavement. Jamie should have climbed straight in, but her feet stayed rooted. Erin had stepped closer, near enough that Jamie could feel her presence even with the storm between them.
Water dripped steadily from Erin’s hair, trailing over her cheek before catching at the corner of her mouth.
Jamie’s breath hitched, and she hated herself for noticing.
The rain had plastered Erin’s jacket to her frame, outlining the strength Jamie knew was there but rarely let herself think about.
Her throat tightened. She wanted, for just a second, to trace the path of a raindrop with her fingertip.
She dragged her eyes up, forcing them away, but Erin was already watching her. That steady gaze, softer than it ever was under fluorescent lights or at crowded briefings, held her in place. The thought Jamie had been outrunning all night slammed back into her.
Don’t. Don’t even think about it.
Her body didn’t listen. Her shoulders tilted forward, her breath coming quicker, drawn into the gravity of Erin’s nearness. Every warning bell in her head told her to stop, but it felt too natural, like they had been moving toward this all along.
A long beat stretched. Erin’s gaze lingered, dropped for a second, then came back up.
Without meaning to, the space between them shrank until it felt inevitable.
Erin lifted a hand, brushed a wet strand of hair off Jamie’s forehead, her knuckles warm against her skin.
Jamie’s breath caught, leaning just slightly…
She rocked back, sharp enough to splash water up from her shoes.
“I…” The word cracked, and she forced herself to steady it. “I can’t. If we screw this up, I lose… you. And I can’t afford that.”
Erin’s hand hovered in the air a second too long before dropping. She gave a short, humorless laugh, shaking rain from her face. “Yeah. I should’ve seen that coming.”
Jamie’s throat tightened, the joke too flat to land. Erin shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, shoulders curving in, eyes flicking away as if she needed the ground to steady her.
“I didn’t mean…” Jamie started, uselessly.
Erin cut her off, voice quiet, tight. “It’s fine.” She turned before Jamie could stop her, boots splashing through puddles as she strode back toward the street.
Panic surged through Jamie’s chest. “Erin, wait… please!” she called, stumbling after her into the downpour.
The rain blurred her vision, soaked her clothes until they clung heavy, but none of it mattered.
She caught up just enough to brush her hand against Erin’s arm, voice breaking.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Please, can we just talk about this? ”
Erin stopped. For a moment she stood still, shoulders rising and falling with a sharp breath. Then she turned, rain dripping down her face, her expression set like stone even as her eyes betrayed her.
“No,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Just… forget it happened.”
The words hit harder than the rain. Jamie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Erin gave the barest shake of her head, then stepped back, putting space between them again. “Goodnight, Jamie.” Her voice cracked just enough to make Jamie’s chest ache.