Chapter 5 Brian
Brian
I lay on my couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of my own head.
Ava was in my bed. Wearing my shirt. Her cat was probably sprawled across my pillow, a fuzzy little gargoyle plotting world domination.
We were going to be roommates.
I couldn't stop smiling. Which was a problem, because I shouldn't be smiling. Ava's apartment had just been destroyed. Someone had broken in, trashed her things, and spray-painted a threat. She was scared and vulnerable and in danger.
And here I was, grinning at the ceiling like an idiot.
Not about the break-in. About what came next. The apartment hunt, the shared space, the possibility of coming home to her every day instead of just catching her on the balcony.
This wasn't the confession I'd been planning.
I'd been working up the courage for months, trying to find the right moment to tell her how I felt. Four years of dancing around it. Too afraid to risk what we had for what we could have.
And instead of a confession, I'd offered her a spare bedroom.
Not quite the grand romantic gesture I'd imagined.
I stared at the water stain on my ceiling, the one the super had been "getting to" for six months, and reminded myself of the rules. She's in trouble. She needs a friend. What kind of man takes advantage of that?
I wouldn't push. I wouldn't make her uncomfortable. I wouldn't complicate things when she was already dealing with so much.
But I was still happy. I couldn't help it. I was going to see her every day. Share a kitchen, a bathroom. All the small domestic moments I'd been dreaming about for years.
Was that selfish? Probably.
Did I care? Not as much as I should.
From the bedroom, I heard Watson meow. A soft, questioning sound. Then Ava's voice, muffled through the wall: "Go to sleep, Watson."
I smiled at the ceiling.
You're in so much trouble, Torres.
The next shift, I walked into the station with what I suspected was a stupid expression on my face.
Shane noticed immediately.
"Okay, Torres." He set down his coffee mug with exaggerated patience. "Spill."
"Spill what?"
"You look like someone just told you Christmas is coming early. What's going on?"
I tried to school my expression into something neutral. Failed completely.
"Ava and I are going to look for an apartment together."
Silence.
Shane's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. Garrett, who had materialized silently behind us as usual, went very still.
"FINALLY!" Shane's grin split his face. "It's about damn time."
"Congratulations," Garrett said, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.
"It's not—"
"Looking for an apartment together already?" Shane clapped me on the shoulder. "You two sure move fast."
"It's been four years," Garrett interrupted. "You should move that fast."
"It's not like that." I lowered my voice, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. "We're going to be roommates. For her safety."
Shane's grin faded. Garrett's eyes sharpened.
"Her safety?" Shane's voice dropped. "What's going on?"
I told them everything. Kevin Lang's overdose and delirious confession. The threats against Ava. The keyed car, the break-in, the spray-painted message. The investigation stalled because the Langs had connections everywhere.
When I finished, Shane's expression was dark.
"That's serious."
"What has the NYPD done?" Garrett asked.
"They're investigating. But it's slow going. The councilman's reach is extensive."
"Who's the detective handling it?"
"Diaz. Out of the 114th."
Shane's expression shifted. Recognition, and something like relief. "Diaz is good. She handled the Tommy Vickers arson case. Remember?"
I remembered. The serial arsonist who'd burned down six public schools across the district, including the one where Maya taught.
Tommy Vickers had been one of her students a decade ago.
A kid who'd fallen through every crack the system had.
Bounced between foster homes, aged out with nothing, came back to burn down the places he felt had failed him.
Maya had found him inside that night and tried to talk him down. Shane had run into the flames and pulled them both out.
"If anyone can make this stick," Shane said, "she can."
"Hopefully."
"Hopefully isn't good enough." Garrett's voice was flat. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight. The posture of a man who'd already started calculating angles, running scenarios.
I didn't have an answer for that. Neither did anyone else.
Shane clapped me on the shoulder, his voice deliberately lighter, steering us toward something he could actually help with.
"Well. In the meantime, you need an apartment. Maya and I looked at a ton of places before we found our building." He paused."Actually, there's a two-bedroom that just opened up. Floor below us."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it's a good unit. Maya and I can take you to see it this weekend if you want. Bring Ava."
"That would be great. Thanks, Shane."
"And Torres?" Shane's grin crept back. "Don't screw this up. Four years is a long time to wait."
"I told you, it's not—"
"Yeah, yeah. Roommates. Sure." He was already walking away, waving over his shoulder. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Garrett lingered for a moment. He studied me with that quiet intensity he had. The one that saw more than most people were comfortable with.
"He's right, you know."
"About the apartment?"
"About not screwing it up." He uncrossed his arms. "She's your person, Torres. That's obvious to everyone."
He walked away before I could respond.
After the shift, I came home to find Ava on my couch.
When I opened the door, she looked up, and something in her expression shifted. Relief, maybe. Or just acknowledgment that I was back.
Home.
When did my apartment start feeling like home only when she was in it?
"Hey." I dropped my bag by the door.
"Hey yourself." She closed the book, keeping her finger on the page. "Rough shift?"
"Long. But everyone made it out." I dropped into the armchair across from her. "How was your day?"
"Quiet. I went back to my apartment to grab some more clothes." She shook her head slightly. "The super changed the locks, but I couldn't stay long. It still feels wrong."
"That makes sense. Give it time."
"Yeah." She scratched behind Watson's ears, and his threatening expression softened into something almost blissful. "Any updates from your end?"
"Actually, yeah." I leaned forward. "Shane says there's an apartment available in his building. Two-bedroom, floor below him and Maya. He offered to take us to see it this weekend."
Ava's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's... that's perfect, actually. Being close to people you trust."
"That's what I was thinking. Shane and Maya are good people. A"And Zoe, Shane's stepdaughter, she's fifteen going on forty. You'll like her."
"I look forward to meeting them, then."
"Actually, I think you already have. You treated Maya after the public school fires."
Ava's brow furrowed, the way it did when she was trying to pull something from the chaos of her memory. "I've treated a lot of people since then. I can't pin a face to the name."
"It’s fine. You'll meet her again soon enough." I smiled. "I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you again under better circumstances this time."
Watson yawned, showing all his teeth, looking like a tiny lion who'd decided this conversation was boring. Ava scratched under his chin, and his eyes went half-lidded with pleasure.
"Brian?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you." She met my eyes. "For all of this. I know it's... a lot."
"You don't have to thank me."
Our eyes held across the room. Something passed between us. A current, a question, a possibility.
I cleared my throat.
"I should shower. Get some sleep."
"Yeah. Of course."
I stood, moved toward the bathroom, then paused at the door.
"Ava?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're here."
She smiled—not the guarded one, not the professional one. The real one.
"Me too."
Saturday morning, we met Shane, Maya, and Zoe in the lobby of their building. A solid brick walk-up in Sunnyside, the kind of place that had been standing since before the war.
Maya spotted us first and crossed the lobby with her arms already open.
"Dr. Rothwell." She pulled Ava into a hug before Ava could react. "It's good to see you again."
"Ava, please." Ava's voice was slightly muffled against Maya's shoulder. "And it's good to see you breathing normally."
"Thanks to you." Maya released her but kept hold of her hands, squeezing once. "Shane told me what's been happening. I'm so sorry. But you're in good hands with him."
She gestured at me. I tried not to look too pleased.
"Ava." Shane's grin was easy, familiar. "Nice to see you when nobody's bleeding out. Brian talks about you a lot, by the way."
"I do not—"
"Constantly."
Zoe stepped forward, fifteen, with her mother's sharp eyes. She extended her hand like she was conducting a job interview.
"Hi. I'm Zoe. I'll be showing you the apartment today."
"She insisted," Maya said, with the tone of a mother who'd learned to pick her battles.
"Someone has to ask the important questions," Zoe said.
We took the stairs to the fifth floor, one below Shane and Maya's place. The apartment was at the end of the hall, and afternoon light spilling through the windows when Zoe unlocked the door with a flourish.
"Two bedrooms, one bathroom, updated kitchen, and—" she gestured dramatically at the windows— "lots of natural lighting."
She delivered it like a realtor, completely deadpan. Maya snorted. Shane shook his head.
I watched Ava move through the space. She ran her fingers along the kitchen counter, checked the water pressure in the bathroom, and opened closets. When she reached the bedrooms, she paused. Pushed open the first door, glanced inside, then moved to the next.
"This one's bigger," she said.
"Yeah?"
"I call dibs."
"What?" I followed her into the room. "No negotiation?"