They say time dulls the edges of pain, but I don’t think that’s true. Not when it comes to her.

I’ve loved her since we were kids—since she sat next to me on that cracked bench behind the gym, eyes rimmed in red, acting like the world didn’t hurt as much as it did. Back then, she barely let anyone in. She still doesn’t. But somehow, I got to stay.

We’ve been best friends through everything—her bad days, my worst ones, late-night coffee runs, rushed lunches squeezed between my stakeouts and her unpredictable hours. She calls me “Cassie” like it’s both a joke and a tether. She knows the weight of the badge I wear. She doesn’t ask about the cases. She just… exists beside me in this quiet, grounding way I can’t put into words.

I thought I had time. Time to tell her that I’ve been in love with her since high school. Time to show her what it looks like when someone chooses her—always. But lately, our schedules barely line up. She’s been distant. Quieter than usual. I chalked it up to stress, to life. I should’ve known better.

At 3:04 AM, my phone rang. Her name lit up the screen, and every hair on my body stood up.

“Cas…” Her voice was broken. Weak. Frantic.

That was all it took. I was out of bed, grabbing my keys, my badge, my weapon. “What happened?” I asked, but deep down I already knew.

“He found me,” she whispered. Her breath hitched. “I—I didn’t know who else to call.”

Her stepfather. The man who haunted every corner of her childhood. The reason she used to hide bruises under long sleeves and make excuses for limps. She had moved, changed numbers, started fresh. I thought she was finally free.

My grip tightened around the steering wheel. I was already in the car, tearing through red lights. My pulse thundered in my ears.

“I’m coming,” I told her, voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care what rules I have to break. Just stay on the line, babygirl. I’m coming.”