The first few weeks on patrol had been an adjustment, but discipline and structure weren’t new to you. Transitioning from decades old cots and twin beds with mattresses that were rock hard to queen beds that felt like you were on cloud nine was difficult to say the least. The academy had been tough, but nothing compared to military life. Still, learning from Lopez—your training officer—was an entirely different beast. She was sharp, no-nonsense, and always two steps ahead.

You followed her lead, absorbing everything, but there was an unspoken tension between you. It wasn’t just respect or admiration—it was something else. The way her gaze lingered when she corrected your stance, the way your pulse quickened when she brushed past you in the patrol car. You told yourself it was nothing. It had to be nothing.

One night, after a long shift, you were securing the squad car when Lopez leaned against the door, watching you. “You’re picking this up fast,” she said, her voice steady.