Danika

When I was a kid, my father brought me to a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden. It was the biggest, brightest place I could imagine. As a grown woman, it doesn’t seem quite as huge, but my heart races nonetheless as I prepare to walk onstage and accept my diploma, beneath the massive lights and flashing cameras. No way in hell was I going to graduate with a crutch, so I’ve spent the last few days keeping my ankle rested. I’ve got a limp, but thankfully I should be fully recovered in a couple of weeks. In time to join the force.

Where have I been resting my ankle? At my apartment during the day. But as soon as Greer’s shift ends, I can set a clock on him striding into my bedroom, sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me out to his waiting patrol car.

“I’m making up for not being able to carry you out of the maze,” he grumbled the first time. Each day after that, though, he only smiled and took me home.

Home.

Crazy enough, his apartment already feels like . . . ours somehow. Maybe it’s the way he stuffed every kitchen drawer full of Snickers bars and bought flowery throw pillows for his bed. Imagine that trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond. Or maybe I feel welcome because he never stops looking at me like he can’t believe I’m there. Or how he whispers in my ear while I’m sleeping that he never wants me to leave. Yeah, I think that’s it.

God, he looks incredible up onstage in his dress blues, shaking hands and handing out diplomas. In this entire arena, I’m the only one that knows he wears nothing but briefs and a smile when we’re at home. Home. There’s that incredible word again. I’ve been lucky enough to have three of them in my lifetime. My parents’ apartment, which will always hold millions of treasured memories. The three-bedroom where my roommates and I dwelled while succumbing to the L word. Now, Greer’s place. Considering he put a key to the apartment on my ring last night while I was sleeping, I don’t think he minds me calling it home, either.

Jack must hear my dreamy sigh from his spot ahead of me in line, because he turns and winks at me. I flip him off and we both smile.

The line moves and I hobble forward. One would think my confidence would be shaken after getting injured in the maze, but it’s stronger than ever. I don’t mind saying Greer had something to do with it, because I know I restored his confidence, too. In the universe. In fate. How to live with knowledge that no one controls either of those things. We have to grab on to happiness when we’re lucky enough to have it offered. We did. And we’ll keep doing it.

It’s Charlie’s turn to accept his diploma, and I strain my vocal cords cheering. He blows a kiss to Ever in the audience—he didn’t earn the nickname Romeo for nothing—and shakes hands with Greer. Tears cloud my vision seeing them there together, two courageous men that have changed the course of my life in different ways. In the next few decades, that course will change again and again—they’ll be with me when it happens. My friend. My Greer.

They pose for a picture, and Greer hands over the diploma, but before Charlie can walk off stage, Greer does something that steals my breath. He calls back his brother and pulls him into a bear hug. At first, Charlie is clearly stunned, but he responds quickly, hugging his brother back. Finally, it descends into macho back slapping, which makes me laugh through my tears. Something tells me their relationship is going to be different from now on.

A few minutes later, a thrill slides over me when Jack shakes hands with Greer and accepts his diploma. I can hear Katie whistling in the audience where she sits beside Jack’s mother, both of them beaming up at the new man he’s become in such a short time. One of the best. I’m so proud of him, I think I could float up into the Garden rafters. Even better, he’s proud of himself. It’s right there on the too-handsome face I’ve known since childhood.

Before I know it, Greer says my name into the microphone. Navigating the stairs is a joy—not really—and I can see Greer is biting the inside of his cheek, wanting to come assist me. In the end, though, I make it on my own, my gait as even as possible as I move toward him on the stage. Call me a lovesick puppy, but I couldn’t stop walking to him if I wanted to. The love in his eyes is like an invisible conveyer belt, drawing me closer to the place I’m happiest.

“Hi,” I mouth at him.

“Hi, baby,” he says back.

Directly into the microphone.

My mother’s cackle cuts right through the eruption of audience laughter.

I’m compelled to kiss him once we’re standing in front of each other—especially after that—because I’m getting used to greeting him that way. It would be so easy to make this moment about us. But Greer doesn’t do that. He shakes my hand and gives me the diploma like I’m someone who’s just gone through months of difficult training to achieve something. And I have.

I’m a cop now.

I look out at the audience and find my parents, taking a moment to savor the accomplishment. The pride radiating from Greer only makes it sweeter.

Greer

It’s a strange thing, letting go of control.

Well. Let’s not get crazy, I’m still Lieutenant Hard-Ass, and Danika can attest that I call the shots when we’re making each other moan. As for shutting myself off from experiences life has to offer so I won’t face another loss? I’m done with that. When I lost Danika, I had no option but to let go of the past, and Christ, I feel light and heavy all at once. Light with relief. Heavy with love for my girl.

There’s still ugliness. There always will be because of the nature of my job. Now, though? I’m feeling more beauty than ugliness because I stopped trying to block it from coming in.

Now it’s everywhere. Across from me in the pillows every morning. Crying out underneath me at night. Danika. Beauty is her. It’s in the way she tucks her face into my neck as I carry her up the stairs to our apartment right now.

Yeah, our apartment. As soon as we find out where she’ll be stationed, I’m going to ask her to move in with me. Depending on how far she has to travel, it might be more convenient to live in a different neighborhood, so I’m waiting to find out. I like the idea of starting from scratch and seeing what we create together.

She doesn’t eat as many Snickers bars as I thought. She seems to be happier with yogurt. At least, I thought she was, until I bought forty varieties of the stuff, then she promptly switched to cereal. Really, she doesn’t have any discernible pattern when it comes to food. But I’m going to keep watching her and trying to nail one down.

Slowly, I ease her down outside the door and let us in. “Are you hungry?”

Her sleepy hum wraps around me. “I’ll make us grilled cheeses.”

This is what I’m talking about. How am I supposed to shop for her when she doesn’t require a set menu? “We don’t have the stuff for that.”

“We have cheese, butter and bread.”

“We do?”

God, her smile is sexy. “We do.”

This is a game we’ve been playing, seeing who can use the words our, we or us the most times in a sentence. It’s a fun game, okay? I never want to stop playing it. Also, I win most of the time, which leads to her fake pouting. Which leads to kissing and eventually hot, sweaty fucking.

See? Great game. “Do you want to sit at our table or our couch?”

She slides toward the kitchen, giving me a seductive look over her shoulder. “Either one is fine for us.” Bending forward, she opens a cabinet and removes the skillet, giving me a nice look at her tight ass in those uniform pants she wore for graduation. I’ve never wanted to kiss her more than I did on that stage tonight, but it was damn fulfilling watching her shine. I’ll never stop being grateful I had the privilege of witnessing her setbacks and triumphs along the way. I love this girl. I loved her the day I saw her, but that love is so deep now, no one will ever find the bottom of it.

As if she can sense the sudden seriousness of my thoughts, Danika sets down the skillet on the stove and turns. That restraint I used onstage is colliding with the hunger she always makes me feel . . . and I just want us skin to skin. I’ll never get enough of her, and I can’t seem to stop proving myself right.

“We . . . should eat later,” I rasp.

She’s already limping toward the bedroom. “Race you to our bed.”

I scoop her into my arms with a growl. “Don’t you dare.”

Seconds later, I lay Danika down on the bed and start to undress her, but she frames my face with her hands, drawing my forehead down to meet hers. Everything narrows down to her. This. It’s like she waves a magic wand and relieves me of any grief or worry I’ve ever felt, leaving nothing but us in the present. “I won the game this time. You’re slipping.”

“Am I?” I slide my tongue into her mouth, working both of us up with a slow, wet kiss. “Feels like I won pretty huge. Feels like it every second of the day now.”

“I won, too,” she whispers, capturing me with a look. “Let’s call it an indefinite tie.”

My smile feels more natural than ever. “It’s a deal.”

“I love you, Grim Reaper.”

“God, I love you, too.” My fingers travel into her panties and find their mark, shooting her hips off the bed. “Let me show you how much.”