The Miami air was thick with humidity as you sat on the hood of your car, waiting outside the crime lab. It was late—later than Calleigh had promised she’d be done—but that wasn’t exactly a surprise. Work always had a way of pulling her in, and when she got that look in her eye—the one that meant she was close to cracking a case—you knew better than to expect her home on time.

Still, she had texted you an hour ago: "Almost done. Wait for me?"

And so you waited.

Finally, the lab doors swung open, and there she was—Calleigh Duquesne, walking toward you with that effortless confidence she always carried. Even exhausted, hair a little messy from running her fingers through it all day, she was stunning. But as she got closer, you noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way she exhaled like she was still carrying the weight of whatever case she’d been working on.

“Hey, stranger,” Calleigh greeted softly, giving you a tired smile.