Page 89 of Igniting Her

She crossed the apartment without asking who was there.

Cassie stood on the landing.

For one suspended beat, Ellie saw everything that was missing. No navy uniform. No captain’s bars. No twist secured tightly enough to survive weather. Cassie’s dark hair was wet and loose at her temples. Rain had soaked the shoulders of her black sweater and gathered on her lashes. Both hands hung empty at her sides.

No rank. No armor. Nothing between them that could issue an order and call it an answer.

Ellie held the door open.

Cassie did not cross the threshold.

Neither woman moved.

Weeks of absence occupied the narrow space between the hallway and the apartment. Ellie felt each one: the office door, the B-shift table, Mo’s untouched soda, the folded paper Cassie had taken from her hand. She had imagined this moment often enough to ruin it in a dozen directions. In none of them had Cassie looked this frightened and remained standing anyway.

“I love you,” Cassie said.

She said it before touching Ellie. Before asking to enter.

The words arrived cleanly. No condition followed them.

Ellie’s eyes filled so fast the landing blurred.

Cassie stayed where she was and let her have the truth without reaching in to manage what it did.

“I love you too,” Ellie said.

Her voice broke on the final word. She caught the front of Cassie’s wet sweater and pulled her across the threshold.

Cassie came.

Ellie shut the door against the rain. For a moment they stood close enough to touch and did not. Water darkened the floor beneath Cassie’s shoes. Her breathing had lost its usual measure.

She reached inside her coat and held out a folded page.

Ellie recognized the softened creases. “You didn’t date it.”

“No.”

“Were you going to?”

“No.” Cassie did not look away. “I accepted the battalion chief appointment. Battalion Three, effective next month. Station Twelve remains in Harbor Battalion. I will not supervise you, evaluate you, decide your assignments, or control your career.”

Ellie stared at her.

“You’re moving yourself.”

“Yes.”

The answer went through the place where three weeks of hurt had lived. It did not erase the injury. It changed what Cassie was willing to do with it.

“Chief Marsh knows about us,” Cassie continued. “There will be a review. The promotion stands regardless of what you decide about me or Santa Vera.”

Ellie took the request. It had been crushed and carefully flattened again. She ran a thumb along the empty date line.

“The crew knows about Jules,” Cassie said. “I told them I failed a supervisory boundary and let fear govern what happened after the transfer. I did not speak for you.”

“They figured it out.” Ellie could already picture the expressions around the long table.