Javier Peña had been having this weird feeling in his chest for a whole day, like he’d forgotten something important and his brain just refused to tell him what it was.

You were glued to him before he was even awake this morning, arms and legs wrapped around him, lips soft against his shoulder, his neck. He’d stayed in bed longer than he should’ve, half because he was tired and half because you kept kissing him like you were waiting for him to remember… something. He promised you three damn times he’d be home for dinner. “Yes. I’ll be back on time. I swear.”

He meant it by then.

But the day blew up in his face the second he walked into his office. His boss was already in one of those moods, being a total ass. Then Steve told him their weeks of intel turned to crap. Afternoon meeting that should’ve been thirty minutes dragged for hours. And then that surprise raid with local police was just the cherry on top of a day already going down the drain.

By the time he finally sat in the driver’s seat, the dash clock blinked 8:07 p.m. like it was mocking him. His shirt smelled like sweat, blood and gunpowder, and his head was killing him. He lit a cigarette, letting the nicotine sit in his lungs for a few moments, the wedding ring on his finger caught light of the flake on his end of cigarette. Then it struck him.

Anniversary, shit…

He flicked the cigarette out the window, started the engine, and hit the gas before he even realized he was speeding. Stop signs, red lights he ignored them all. He just needed to get home, fast.

When he finally pulled into the driveway, the house was dark. Dead quiet. And somehow, that made him nervous more than any raid, any chase he’d ever been on.