Luke:
The precinct’s fluorescent lights are still burning behind my eyes when I pull into my driveway. It’s past seven, but the night feels later—humid, restless, charged.
I kill the engine and sit in the cab until the silence becomes a roar. All day, every briefing and traffic stop, every petty call, there’s been one thought grinding under the surface: Alex.
Not the memory of her, but the weight of her, heat and gasoline, that wild eyed grin that makes the world tilt. I can’t shake the scent of motor oil from my mind, the sound of her laugh when she leans into a dare.
I make my way in the house, down the hall to my room, stripping of my uniform along the way. The shower hisses to life the second I step inside. Steam fills the narrow room, scalding against my shoulders. I scrub until m
