Chapter 7: Duty, Daydreams, and a Knock
The range echoed with the staccato rhythm of gunfire, but Riley's mind was a thousand yards from the paper targets. She moved through the motions—clearing her weapon, calling out corrections to the junior Marines, logging scores on her clipboard—but underneath the practiced efficiency, her thoughts kept drifting to blonde hair spread across her pillow, to the taste of Kenzie's mouth, to the way her name had sounded when Kenzie screamed it.
The day felt lighter than it should have. Lighter than any day had felt in years.
"Gunny?"
Riley blinked. Lance Corporal Meyers was staring at her, waiting for a response to a question she hadn't heard.
"Run it again," Riley said, her voice flat. "And this time, don't anticipate the recoil. You're jerking the trigger like it owes you money."
The kid nodded and scrambled back to the firing line. Riley checked her watch. Fourteen hundred. Still six hours until she could reasonably expect Kenzie at her door. Six hours of pretending she wasn't counting the minutes.
She was, though. She was counting every single one.
The afternoon bled into paperwork. Requisition forms, after-action reports, a counseling statement for a private who'd gotten drunk and tried to fight a vending machine. Riley's pen scratched across the pages, but her focus kept fracturing. She'd catch herself staring at the wall, replaying the morning—Kenzie's lips on her scars, the soft weight of her body, the way she'd looked in Riley's USMC shirt with her hair still tangled from sleep.
The microwave hummed in the corner of her memory, bacon sizzling, Kenzie's arms wrapped around her from behind. It had felt like something she wasn't allowed to have, that kind of quiet domesticity. Marines didn't get that. Riley didn't get that. Except she had, just for a few hours, and now the wanting was a physical ache behind her sternum.
At 1730, she finally escaped the barracks. The walk to her apartment was short, but she took it slow, letting the evening air cool the heat under her collar. The base was quiet this time of day, most Marines either at chow or already liberty-bound. Riley's boots crunched against gravel as she cut across the parking lot, her mind already in her apartment, already imagining the knock.
She shoved her key into the lock and pushed the door open. The place smelled like stale coffee and the faint chemical tang of gun oil that had soaked into her gear bag. She dropped her keys on the counter, toed off her boots, and was just reaching for her phone to text Kenzie when the knock came.
Riley smiled before she even opened the door.
Kenzie stood on the other side, her blonde hair down and loose around her shoulders, a button-down shirt tucked into a short skirt that hugged her hips. A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder. Her lips curved into a smirk that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Hey, Gunny," she said.
Riley didn't answer with words. She grabbed Kenzie's wrist, pulled her inside, and kicked the door shut behind her.
Then she pinned her to the door.
Her mouth crashed down on Kenzie's, hungry and demanding, and Kenzie made a sound in her throat—a little gasp that turned into a moan when Riley's hands slid up her thighs. The skirt was short, soft fabric that bunched easily under Riley's fingers. She found the hem, pushed it higher, felt the warmth of Kenzie's skin, the lace edge of her underwear.
Kenzie's bag hit the floor with a thud. Her hands came up, one tangling in Riley's short hair, the other gripping the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
They came up for air, both breathing hard. Kenzie's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.
"I love a girl in uniform," she murmured, her thumb tracing the line of Riley's jaw.
Riley grinned. "This old thing?"
She kissed her again—faster this time, dirtier, tongue sliding against tongue. Then she ducked her head, hooked her hands under Kenzie's ass, and lifted.
Kenzie yelped, legs wrapping around Riley's waist, hands scrambling for purchase on her shoulders. Riley carried her the few steps to the kitchen table and set her down on the edge.
The table was cluttered—a half-crushed MRE wrapper, a coffee mug that had been there for three days, a stack of mail she hadn't bothered to open. Riley swept it all aside with one arm, sending it clattering to the floor.
"Impatient," Kenzie said, laughing.
"You have no idea."
Riley's fingers found the buttons of Kenzie's shirt. She undid them one by one, slow, deliberate, watching Kenzie's breath hitch with each inch of exposed skin. When the shirt fell open, Riley stopped.
Pink lace. A bra so delicate it looked like it would tear if Riley looked at it too hard. The cups were sheer enough to show the dark circles of Kenzie's nipples, already hard, already straining against the fabric.
"Fuck," Riley breathed.
Kenzie giggled. "You like it?"
Riley didn't answer. She pushed the skirt up, higher, until she could see the matching pink thong, a thin strip of lace that disappeared between Kenzie's legs. The fabric was already damp.
"You planned this," Riley said.
"Maybe." Kenzie reached for her, fingers hooking into the collar of Riley's fatigues. "Now get these off before I rip them off."
Riley laughed, but she let Kenzie undress her. The buttons came undone, the fabric parting, and Kenzie's hands were on her skin—her stomach, her ribs, the swell of her breasts under the sports bra. Riley shrugged out of the top, let it fall, then stood in her sports bra, boxers, and socks.
Kenzie tilted her head, a slow smile spreading across her face. "There she is."
Riley kissed her harder, hands roaming over bare skin. The curve of Kenzie's waist, the soft dip of her navel, the lace edge of the bra strap against her shoulder blade. Kenzie tasted like mint and something sweeter underneath, and her skin was warm, so fucking warm, and Riley wanted to touch all of it.
She dropped to her knees.
Kenzie's breath caught. "Riley—"
"Shut up."
Riley hooked her fingers into the waistband of the thong and pulled it down, slow, dragging it over Kenzie's hips and thighs. Kenzie lifted herself slightly off the table, helping, and Riley let the scrap of lace fall to the floor.
Kenzie was bare now, thighs parted, pink and wet and glistening. Riley leaned in, breathing her in—that musky, intimate scent that made her mouth water.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Riley said, and she meant it.
Kenzie's thighs trembled. "Please."
Riley didn't make her wait. She pressed her mouth to Kenzie's cunt, tongue flat against her slit, and Kenzie's hips jerked like she'd been shocked.
"Oh god—"
Riley worked her tongue up and down, slow at first, learning the shape of her. Kenzie's taste flooded her senses, salty and sweet, and Riley moaned against her, the vibration making Kenzie gasp.
"Fuck, right there—don't stop—"
Riley didn't stop. She circled Kenzie's clit with her tongue, light pressure, then harder, then light again. Kenzie's hands were in her hair, gripping, pulling, and Riley loved it—loved the desperate sounds Kenzie was making, the way her thighs were shaking, the way she was already so close.
Riley slid a finger inside her, then two. Kenzie was tight and hot and slick, and she arched off the table, a string of curses falling from her lips.
"Riley, please, I'm gonna—"
"Come," Riley said against her, and sucked her clit into her mouth.
Kenzie shattered.
Her back bowed, her thighs clamped around Riley's head, and she screamed—a raw, broken sound that echoed off the thin apartment walls. Riley kept going, tongue and fingers working her through it, drawing it out until Kenzie was twitching and whimpering and trying to push her away.
Riley pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Kenzie was sprawled on the table, chest heaving, pink lace bra pushed askew, sweat glistening on her skin.
"Holy shit," Kenzie whispered.
Riley stood up, grinning. "You're welcome."
Kenzie laughed, breathless. "Get up here."
Riley was about to climb on top of her when the knock came.
Again.
"What the fuck," Riley said, her head snapping toward the door.
Kenzie propped herself up on her elbows, frowning. "Who is that?"
"I don't know." Riley looked down at herself—sports bra, boxers, socks. Then at Kenzie—half-naked on her kitchen table, skirt pushed up around her waist.
Another knock, harder this time.
"Hold that thought," Riley said, and pressed a kiss to Kenzie's forehead.
She crossed to the door, not bothering to grab clothes. Whoever it was, they could deal.
She pulled the door open.
Two Marines stood in the hallway—Sergeant First Class Dani Wallace and Corporal Jess Tran, both in civvies, both grinning.
"Gunny!" Wallace said. "We're hitting that bar off Main, the one with the two-for-one specials. You in?"
Riley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I'm busy."
Wallace raised an eyebrow. "Busy doing what? You're standing there in your underwear."
"Sky's out, thighs out," Riley said flatly.
Tran snorted. "Come on, Gunny. One drink. You've been weird all day. We're worried about you."
"I'm fine. I'm just—" Riley paused, searching for an excuse.
Behind her, the floor creaked.
Kenzie appeared at her side, wrapped now in Riley's USMC t-shirt—which was definitely not what she'd been wearing five seconds ago—her hair a disaster, her lips still swollen. She slid an arm around Riley's waist and pressed herself against Riley's side, her chin resting on Riley's shoulder.
"Hi," Kenzie said, her voice sweet and innocent.
Wallace's eyes went wide. Tran's jaw dropped.
"Uh," Wallace said.
"We're in the middle of something," Kenzie said, her hand sliding down Riley's back, fingers dipping just below the waistband of her boxers. "She'll catch up with you later."
Riley's face burned, but she couldn't help the grin tugging at her lips.
"Right," she said. "Later."
She slammed the door.
Kenzie burst out laughing, her whole body shaking against Riley's. "Oh my god, their faces."
"Shut up," Riley said, but she was laughing too. "You did that on purpose."
"Absolutely." Kenzie pulled back, eyes sparkling. "Now where were we?"
Riley didn't answer with words. She scooped Kenzie up—one arm under her knees, one behind her back—and carried her to the bedroom.
The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, the pillow still smelling like Kenzie's shampoo. Riley dropped her onto the mattress and climbed on top of her, settling between her legs.
"You're still wearing too much," Kenzie said, tugging at Riley's sports bra.
"Then do something about it."
Kenzie did. She pulled the bra over Riley's head, her hands immediately finding Riley's breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over her nipples. Riley sucked in a breath, her hips grinding down involuntarily.
"Fuck," she muttered.
Kenzie's hands moved lower, pushing at Riley's boxers. "Off. Now."
Riley kicked them off, and then she was naked, pressing against Kenzie's mostly-naked body, skin against skin, heat against heat. Kenzie's bra was still on, so Riley reached around and unhooked it, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere.
Then Kenzie was bare beneath her, and Riley couldn't stop touching her—her collarbones, her breasts, the soft curve of her stomach, the wet heat between her legs.
"I want you inside me," Kenzie whispered.
Riley's breath caught. "Yeah?"
"Please."
Riley slid a finger inside her, then two. Kenzie was still wet from before, still tight, and she moaned when Riley started to move—slow, deep, curling her fingers on every thrust.
"More," Kenzie gasped.
Riley added a third finger, and Kenzie cried out, her hips bucking up to meet Riley's hand. Riley fucked her like that, steady and hard, watching Kenzie's face—the way her eyes rolled back, the way her mouth fell open, the way she bit her lip and whimpered.
"Don't stop," Kenzie panted. "Don't you fucking stop."
Riley didn't. She leaned down and kissed Kenzie, swallowing her moans, her thumb finding Kenzie's clit and rubbing in tight circles.
Kenzie broke apart again, harder this time, her whole body convulsing, her nails raking down Riley's back. Riley felt the sting and loved it, kept moving her fingers until Kenzie was oversensitive and pushing her away.
Riley collapsed beside her, breathing hard.
They lay there in silence for a long moment, the only sound their ragged breathing and the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.
"Your friends are definitely going to give you shit tomorrow," Kenzie said eventually.
"Yeah." Riley turned her head to look at her. "Worth it."
Kenzie smiled, soft and real. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Kenzie rolled onto her side, facing Riley, her hand finding Riley's and threading their fingers together.
"Can I stay tonight?" she asked.
Riley squeezed her hand. "You better."
They lay like that, tangled together, the evening light fading through the blinds. Riley traced the lines of Kenzie's palm, her mind quiet for the first time all day.
"I told my dad about you," Riley said.
Kenzie's eyes widened. "You did?"
"This morning. After you left." Riley shrugged. "He asked how my night was. I told him I met someone."
"What did he say?"
Riley smiled. "He said it was about damn time."
Kenzie laughed, a soft, surprised sound. "Really?"
"He's not exactly a romantic. But he's always wanted me to be happy." Riley paused. "You make me happy."
Kenzie's eyes went glassy. She blinked, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
"Hey," Riley said, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Kenzie wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I just—I'm not used to this. Someone actually wanting me. For real."
Riley rolled onto her side, facing her, their faces inches apart.
"I want you," Riley said. "For real."
Kenzie kissed her, soft and slow.
"I want you too," she whispered against Riley's lips. "I'm scared, but I want you."
Riley pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like they'd been made for it.
"Then we'll be scared together."
Kenzie laughed, watery and bright. "That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it. I'm a Marine, not a poet."
Kenzie kissed her again, and Riley felt something settle in her chest—something warm and steady and terrifying.
Kenzie kissed her again, and Riley felt something settle in her chest—something warm and steady and terrifying.
It wasn't the kind of fear that made her want to run. It was the kind that made her want to stay.
Kenzie pulled back first, her lips curving into that smirk Riley was starting to recognize. The one that meant trouble.
"I want to make you feel good," Kenzie said.
Her voice was quiet. Almost shy.
Riley blinked. "You already did."
Kenzie shook her head, blonde hair falling across her face. "No, I mean—" She bit her lip, suddenly looking anywhere but at Riley. "I want to. But I'm—" A pause. "I'm shy."
Riley propped herself up on one elbow. She'd seen Kenzie naked on her kitchen table, screaming her name loud enough to wake the neighbors. Shy wasn't a word she'd have used.
"I just fucked you with my fingers and made you come so hard you screamed," Riley said. "What's there to be shy about?"
Kenzie laughed, but it was nervous. "That's different. That's—I don't know. I want to do something for you. Something you haven't done before."
Riley's eyebrows rose. "Okay."
"I need to get something." Kenzie kissed her quick, then rolled off the bed.
Riley watched her go, the USMC t-shirt barely covering her ass, her bare feet padding across the carpet. The bedroom door clicked shut behind her.
Riley lay back, staring at the ceiling. The fan spun lazy circles above her. The sheets smelled like sex and sweat and Kenzie's shampoo. Her back stung where Kenzie's nails had raked her skin, and she could still taste Kenzie on her tongue.
She heard the duffel bag unzip in the other room.
Kenzie came back a moment later. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her hands hidden behind her back.
"So," Kenzie said.
"So," Riley echoed.
Kenzie dropped the duffel bag at the foot of the bed. The zipper was open, and Riley caught a glimpse of something inside—black straps, blue silicone, a shape that made her stomach flip.
Kenzie reached in and pulled it out.
It was a strap-on. Angled, thick, designed to fit against Kenzie's hips with a harness that looked complicated and sturdy. The silicone was dark blue, almost navy, and it caught the low light from the lamp on Riley's nightstand.
Riley's mouth went dry.
"I've used it on a few girls before," Kenzie said. She turned it over in her hands, almost casual, but her voice had a tremor in it. "I like fucking girls with it."
Riley stared at the thing in Kenzie's hands. She'd never used one. Never had one used on her. The women she'd slept with in bars and barracks and the back of a Navy corpswoman's APC—they'd used hands and mouths and the occasional vibrator, but nothing like this.
"You've never—" Kenzie started.
"No," Riley said.
Kenzie's expression flickered. "We don't have to. I just thought—"
"I want to."
The words came out fast. Faster than Riley meant them to.
Kenzie smiled, that real smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Kenzie didn't waste time after that. She stepped into the harness, pulling it up over her thighs, adjusting the straps around her waist and hips. Riley watched every movement—the way Kenzie's fingers worked the buckles, the way the silicone settled against her pelvis, the way she looked standing there in nothing but the harness and Riley's t-shirt.
"You're staring," Kenzie said.
"You're hot."
Kenzie laughed, then climbed onto the bed. She crawled up Riley's body, slow, deliberate, until she was straddling Riley's hips. The strap-on pressed against Riley's stomach, cool and smooth.
Kenzie kissed her. Hard.
Riley's heart slammed against her ribs. Her hands found Kenzie's hips, fingers digging into the soft skin above the harness straps.
Kenzie pulled back, breathless. "Lie back."
Riley did.
Kenzie's hands slid down Riley's stomach, over her hips, between her legs. Her fingers found Riley already wet—still wet from before.
"Fuck," Kenzie whispered. "You're soaked."
"Shut up and do something about it."
Kenzie laughed, low in her throat. "Patience."
She slid one finger inside Riley, then two. Slow, gentle, working her open. Riley's breath hitched, her hips rolling up to meet Kenzie's hand.
"Ready?" Kenzie asked.
Riley nodded. She couldn't speak.
Kenzie positioned herself, the tip of the strap-on pressing against Riley's entrance. She paused there, eyes locked on Riley's.
"Tell me if it's too much," Kenzie said.
"I will."
Kenzie pushed inside.
Riley gasped. The stretch was—fuck. It was a lot. Thicker than fingers, thicker than anything she'd had before, and it burned in a way that made her eyes water.
"Okay?" Kenzie asked.
Riley nodded, jaw tight. "Keep going."
Kenzie went slow. Inch by inch, watching Riley's face, her hands braced on either side of Riley's shoulders. The strap-on filled her completely, and Riley's socked feet dug into the mattress, toes curling.
"Fuck," Riley breathed.
"Good?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Keep—keep going."
Kenzie started to move. Slow thrusts, deep and steady, and Riley's body adjusted, the burn fading into something else. Something hot and bright and building.
She wrapped her legs around Kenzie's waist. Her heels dug into Kenzie's ass, pulling her closer, deeper.
"Harder," Riley said.
Kenzie grinned. "There she is."
She fucked her harder. The rhythm changed—faster, rougher, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. Riley's hands fisted in the sheets, her back arching off the mattress.
"Fuck, Kenzie—"
Kenzie leaned down and kissed her, swallowing the moan that ripped from Riley's throat. Riley's hips bucked up to meet every thrust, her body moving on instinct, chasing something she'd never felt before.
Being under Kenzie. Being filled by her. The cute, smooth blonde she'd pined over for years—the girl from the bar, the cop with the pink lace and the filthy mouth—was fucking her senseless, and Riley couldn't get enough.
"Harder," Riley gasped. "Fuck me harder."
Kenzie obliged. She drove into Riley with abandon, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, her hips slamming against Riley's thighs.
Riley's vision blurred. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in her belly, spreading through her limbs. She'd never felt anything like this—never been so full, so completely taken apart.
"Fuck, yes," she moaned. "Right there, don't stop, fuck me—"
Kenzie's hands found Riley's breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. Riley cried out, her whole body shaking.
"Come for me," Kenzie said. "Come on my cock, Riley. Let me feel you."
That did it.
Riley shattered. The orgasm hit her like a grenade, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her, tearing a scream from her throat. Her legs clamped around Kenzie, heels digging in hard, her body convulsing.
Kenzie kept fucking her through it, slow now, drawing it out until Riley was limp and trembling and gasping for air.
Kenzie pulled out gently. The strap-on slid free, and Riley winced at the sudden emptiness.
Kenzie unfastened the harness and let it fall to the floor. Then she crawled up the bed and collapsed beside Riley, her chest heaving.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
"Holy shit," Riley said finally.
Kenzie laughed, breathless. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Riley turned her head to look at her. "Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"
Kenzie shrugged, a smug little smile on her face. "Practice."
Riley laughed, grabbed her, pulled her close. Kenzie's head settled on Riley's shoulder, her hair tickling Riley's chin.
"I've never done that before," Riley admitted.
"I know." Kenzie's voice was soft. "I wanted to be the first."
Riley's throat tightened. She pressed a kiss to the top of Kenzie's head.
"You are," she said. "You're a lot of firsts, actually."
Kenzie tilted her head up, eyes questioning.
"First girl I've brought back here," Riley said. "First girl I've told my dad about. First girl I've—" She stopped.
Kenzie waited.
"First girl I've wanted to keep," Riley finished.
Kenzie's eyes went glassy again. She blinked fast, looking away.
"Kenzie," Riley said.
"I'm fine." Kenzie wiped her eyes. "I'm just—I'm not used to this. Any of this."
Riley cupped her face, turned it back toward her. "Neither am I. But I meant what I said earlier. We'll be scared together."
Kenzie kissed her. Soft, slow, no urgency.
"Together," she echoed.
They lay tangled in the sheets, the lamp still on, the fan still spinning. Riley's body ached in new places. The sting on her back from Kenzie's nails had faded to a dull throb.
"What are you thinking about?" Kenzie asked.
Riley hesitated. Then: "Tomorrow."
"What about it?"
"I have to go back to work. You have to go back to work. And eventually, people are going to find out."
Kenzie was quiet.
"Wallace and Tran already know something's up," Riley continued. "They saw you. They saw me in my underwear. That's going to be all over the barracks by noon."
"They're Marines. They gossip?"
"Worse than a sewing circle."
Kenzie laughed, but it faded fast. "My family's going to find out eventually. This town—it's small. Everyone knows everyone."
Riley's jaw tightened. "What are you going to tell them?"
"I don't know." Kenzie sat up, pulling the sheet around her. "My parents—they're Catholic. Devout. They've been praying for me to find a nice man since I was sixteen."
"How's that going?"
"About as well as you'd expect." Kenzie stared at the wall. "I almost married one."
"What happened?"
"I couldn't do it." Kenzie's voice was flat.
Riley sat up beside her. "That's not a small thing."
"It was the worst day of my life. And the best." Kenzie twisted the sheet in her hands. "I moved back here after. Took the job with the department. Tried to figure out who I was without him."
"And who are you?"
Kenzie looked at her. "I'm still figuring that out."
Riley reached for her hand. Kenzie let her take it.
"What about your dad?" Kenzie asked. "You said you told him about me."
"I did. He was—he was good about it. Better than I expected."
"That's not what I asked."
Riley frowned. "What do you mean?"
"When are you going to tell him it's me? That I'm the one you're seeing."
Riley opened her mouth. Closed it.
Kenzie waited.
"I don't know," Riley admitted. "I hadn't thought that far."
"You should think about it." Kenzie squeezed her hand. "Because if we're doing this—if we're really doing this—it's not just us. It's everyone around us. Your dad. My parents. The department. Your unit."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Riley met her eyes. "I've spent my whole life being the one they talk about. The dyke Marine who doesn't hide. I know what small towns do to people like us."
Kenzie flinched at the word.
"Sorry," Riley said. "Force of habit."
"It's not you." Kenzie shook her head. "It's me. I've just—I've spent so long pretending. Hiding. And I'm tired, Riley. I'm so tired."
Riley pulled her close. Kenzie's face pressed into her shoulder, and Riley felt the wet heat of tears against her skin.
"Then stop hiding," Riley said. "With me. You don't have to hide with me."
Kenzie's arms wrapped around her, holding tight.
"I don't know if I know how," she whispered.
"Then we'll figure it out."
They held each other. The fan clicked through its rotations. Somewhere outside, a car passed, headlights sweeping across the blinds.
"I have an idea," Kenzie said eventually.
"Yeah?"
"Dinner. Tomorrow night. My place." She pulled back, meeting Riley's eyes. "I'll cook. You bring wine. We can—we can talk about what comes next. For real."
Riley smiled. "That sounds like a date."
"It is a date."
"Should I wear my dress blues?"
"Absolutely not." Kenzie laughed. "Although—" She paused, a wicked grin spreading. "Maybe just the jacket."
Riley snorted. "Deal."
Kenzie leaned in, kissed her quick. Then she settled back against Riley's side, her head on Riley's shoulder.
"Tomorrow," she said. "We figure it out tomorrow."
Riley kissed the top of her head.
"Tomorrow," she agreed.
They lay there, tangled and quiet, until the lamp flickered and the room went dark. The moon cast pale light through the blinds, striping the bed in silver and shadow.
Riley's eyes stayed open long after Kenzie's breathing evened out into sleep.
Her mind was racing. The feel of the strap-on, the weight of Kenzie's body, the words they'd traded in the dark. The way Kenzie had looked at her—desperate and hopeful and so fucking scared.
Riley knew scared. She'd been scared when she walked into the recruiter's office at eighteen. Scared every time she deployed. Scared when she got the orders back to this base, back to the town that had made her feel like a freak for wanting what she wanted.
But she'd never been scared like this.
Because this wasn't about survival. This was about something she could lose. Something she already wanted too much.
She looked at Kenzie's sleeping face. The soft curve of her lips. The faint lines of worry between her brows, even now.
"Fuck," Riley whispered into the dark.
She was in deep. Deeper than she'd ever been.
She closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come for a long time.
When it finally did, she dreamed of the ocean—black water churning under a midnight sky. She was swimming, or trying to, and the shore was already out of sight.
Kenzie's voice called from somewhere in the darkness.
Riley woke with a start.
The gray light of dawn crept through the blinds. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets rumpled and cool. Riley sat up, heart pounding, but then she heard the sound.
The shower running. Kenzie's hum, off-key but happy.
She relaxed.
She listened to Kenzie move around the bathroom. The scrape of the curtain, the splash of water, the soft thud of her feet on the tile floor.
A minute later, Kenzie reappeared in the doorway. She was wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down her shoulders, a smile on her face that caught Riley's breath in her chest.
"Morning," Kenzie said.
Riley managed to breathe. "Morning."
There was a pause. Kenzie's smile faltered.
"Are we okay?" she asked.
Riley didn't hesitate. "Yeah. We're okay."
Kenzie's shoulders relaxed. She padded over to the bed, leaned down, kissed Riley like she meant it.
"I have to work," Kenzie said. "But dinner's still on. My place. Seven o'clock."
"I'll be there."
Kenzie dressed—Riley watching every movement, the towel dropping, the jeans sliding up over those hips, the button-down shirt hiding all the skin Riley had spent the night memorizing.
"I'll text you the address," Kenzie said. She grabbed her duffel, slung it over her shoulder.
"Hey," Riley said.
Kenzie paused at the door.
"I don't know what comes next," Riley said. "But I meant it. Together."
Kenzie's eyes softened. "Together."
Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, and Riley was alone in her apartment with the smell of Kenzie on her sheets and the taste of her still on her tongue.
She stared at the ceiling. She could hear the platoon outside, the distant shouting of formation, the bark of commands. The day was starting.
But for the first time in her life, Riley didn't dread it.
She rolled out of bed. Her body ached in new places, and she caught a glimpse of her back in the mirror—long red scratches from her shoulders to her ass.
She smiled.
She threw on her PT gear and headed for the door. Before she stepped out, she glanced back at the unmade bed, the rumpled sheets, the faint imprint of two bodies.
Then she walked out, ready to face whatever came next.
Because tonight, she'd be in Kenzie's kitchen, drinking wine and planning a future she'd never thought she'd want.
And tomorrow, they'd figure out the rest.
She could do this.
She had no idea.