My sister laughed at dinner: “Meet my fiancé, a Ranger.” She m0cked my uniform. Then he saw the task force patch, froze, snapped to attention, and barked, “Maya, stop. Do you know what that means?”

We hit three locations before sunrise. Two arrests, no injuries. The third target ran, cleared a fence, lasted less than a minute before perimeter grabbed him. By the time paperwork was done and I drove home, the sun was up and I felt hollow.

I slept four hours. Woke to missed calls from Mom. Then my phone rang again.

Ava.

For a second, I considered letting it go to voicemail. Then I answered.

“Can we talk?” she asked, voice flat.

“Yes.”

“Not at Mom’s. Not my place. The diner off Route 9. Noon?”

“I’ll be there.”

When I arrived, Ryan was outside with two coffees. He handed me one and held the door.

Ava sat in a booth, no makeup, hair tied back, eyes swollen. She looked younger somehow.

I slid in across from her. “You wanted to talk.”

She nodded, staring at the table. “I was cruel.”

I waited.

“I make jokes because I hate how I feel around you,” she said finally.

That wasn’t what I expected.