The cold had settled deep into New York City that morning, the kind that crept under your coat and stayed there, no matter how long you stood near a heater. Nick Amaro barely noticed it anymore.

Everything had fallen apart so fast it still made his head spin when he let himself think about it. Maria was in California now, thousands of miles away, rebuilding a life without him. Zara was there too. His little girl. God, he missed her so much it felt like something vital had been torn out of his chest. Every time he saw a kid on the street holding their parent’s hand, every time he passed a playground, it hit him all over again. He tried to call when he could, tried to be present through a screen, but it was never enough. It would never be enough.

On top of that, his career had been hanging by a thread. Two arrests. Too many reprimands to count. Benson had fought for him more than once, but even her patience had limits. He knew he walked a line every day, one wrong step away from losing the badge that had defined him for most of his adult life.

And yet, somehow, there was her.

She was the one thing that felt steady, the one thing that didn’t demand more than he could give. She had come into his life quietly, almost by accident. Her first day as an assistant at the DA’s office had been unremarkable on the surface. A quick introduction. A handshake. A polite smile. Except Nick had noticed her immediately, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about a case, the calm confidence beneath her warmth.

She was Rafael Barba’s younger sister. That fact alone should have been enough to keep him firmly at arm’s length.

He had tried. God knew he had tried. He kept things professional, kept conversations brief, told himself over and over that this was a terrible idea. Shared looks across conference tables turned into late night conversations. Late nights turned into something neither of them wanted to name out loud.

Less than three months later, they were in a relationship neither of them could talk about.

It was secret. Careful. Stolen moments in quiet hallways, dinners far from the precinct, hands brushing when no one was looking. It was hard, harder than Nick had expected. Carrying the weight of everything else in his life while also protecting what they had. But she was worth it. Every second of it.

A year and a half later, they stopped hiding.

Rafael had not taken it well at first. Nick still remembered the look on his face, the fury barely contained behind those sharp eyes. For a moment, Nick genuinely thought he might lose his job or his teeth, possibly both. But time had a way of clarifying things. Rafael saw how his sister smiled around Nick, how grounded she seemed, how she defended him when no one else did. And slowly, he accepted it.

At work, they kept things as professional as possible. No lingering touches. No private jokes. Just two people who knew each other well and trusted each other completely.

That morning, Nick stood just outside an interrogation room, his breath fogging slightly in the chilly air. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness that always came with cold days. That was when she approached him, holding out a cup of coffee.

They talked about nothing important. The weather. A case detail that still didn’t quite add up. The normalcy of it was comforting. For a few minutes, Nick almost felt okay.

Then a voice called his name.

Nick’s jaw tightened. He nodded and started walking, and she fell into step beside him without thinking. They moved through the hallway calm as ever, their footsteps echoing against the floor. Nick assumed it was another reprimand, another reminder to keep his temper in check.

and he saw him.

Fifteen years. They had spoken only three times in that span. Every conversation had been strained, careful, filled with everything they didn’t know how to say. Anger. Disappointment. Regret.

Nick stopped cold.

His father looked up, eyes locking onto his son’s.