See, you can be good at this
Frank never expected routine to feel good. Predictability had always been a thing that belonged to his past life, something he had before everything was taken from him.
But somehow, Karen had a way of pulling him into something steady without him even realizing it.
It started small. Coffee already brewing when she woke up. Her stealing his sweatshirt and pretending like she wasn’t keeping it. Him making sure there was food in the fridge that wasn’t just beer and takeout.
Nothing big. Nothing that screamed permanence. But enough.
Enough that when she wasn’t there, he noticed.
He sat on the couch, hands clasped together, feeling the quiet settle too heavy around him.
Karen had gone out for the afternoon—said she needed to clear her head, do some digging on their latest lead. Frank didn’t like it, but he didn’t stop her. He never could.
The case they were chasing had gotten murkier. The name they got at the club led to a shell corporation, which led to another dead end. Someone was working hard to keep their tracks covered, and Frank didn’t like the feeling in his gut about it. Someone was moving pieces, orchestrating something bigger. But tonight, for once, he wasn’t out chasing shadows.
Tonight, he was waiting.
The door opened, and he exhaled, tension slipping just a little. Karen walked in, looking tired but determined, tossing her bag onto the table. “You eat yet?” she asked, toeing off her shoes.
Frank shrugged. “Wasn’t hungry.”
She shot him a look. “That’s not an answer.”
He didn’t argue when she went into the kitchen and started rummaging, mumbling under her breath about how he could take a bullet but couldn’t be bothered to feed himself. He leaned against the counter, watching her move like she belonged there.
“Find anything useful?” he asked.
Karen sighed. “Not much. But something’s off. I can feel it.”
Frank nodded. He knew that feeling. The weight of something unseen pressing against the edges of reality, waiting to break through.
They didn’t talk much while they ate. They didn’t need to. It was easy, falling into the quiet rhythm of something almost normal.
But when Frank cleaned up the plates and grabbed his jacket, Karen frowned. “You going somewhere?”
He hesitated, fingers flexing around the worn leather. “Yeah. Got something I gotta do.”
Karen narrowed her eyes. “Frank.”
He sighed. “It’s not what you think.”
She crossed her arms. “And what do I think?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I go to this group. Veterans. Curtis runs it.”
Karen blinked, caught off guard. That was the last thing she expected. “You go to a support group?”
Frank huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah, don’t go spreadin’ that around.”
Karen softened. “Frank, that’s—” She stopped, searching for the right word. “That’s good.”
He looked at her like he didn’t quite believe it. Like he was waiting for her to make a joke or tell him it didn’t change anything. But Karen just stepped closer, reaching out before she could think better of it. Her fingers brushed against his wrist, hesitant. “You should go.”
Frank swallowed hard, nodding. But he didn’t move yet. Neither did she.
Something had been building between them for a while, something unspoken but impossible to ignore. She saw it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, in the way he always made sure she was safe even when he acted like he wasn’t watching. In the way she never wanted to leave.
She tilted her head, watching him. “Frank.”
His breath hitched slightly. “Yeah?”
“You know what I’m thinking?”
He smirked, but it was nervous. “Not sure I wanna.”
Karen took another step, closing the space between them. “I think we both know where this is going.”
Frank didn’t move away. He didn’t say anything, either. Just looked at her like he was memorizing her face, like he was afraid to reach out but didn’t want to let go.
Karen, bold as ever, reached up, pressing her forehead against his. It was barely anything—a touch, a breath, a moment—but it felt like the start of something that couldn’t be undone.
Frank closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I ain’t good at this, Karen.”
She smiled softly. “Good thing I am.”
For a second, he let himself stay there. Let himself want. Then he stepped back, clearing his throat. “I should go.”
Karen nodded, not pushing. “Okay.”
He hesitated at the door, glancing back at her. Then, before he could think better of it, he grabbed something from the counter, slipping out into the night.
When he came back later, there was with a small bundle of flowers in his hand.
He didn’t say anything when he handed them to her, just looked away like he didn’t want to see her reaction.
Karen smiled, fingers brushing over the petals. “See? You’re not so bad at this after all.”