Work Text:
———
Athena had been in a mood all damn day, and she knew it. Everyone else knew it too. Her shift started with her snapping at dispatch for being too slow with an update, rolled into her glaring at a rookie who made the mistake of holding a door for her like she couldn’t open it herself.
But Athena didn’t care. It was easier to be sharp, to stay irritated, than to let the real thoughts creeping at the back of her mind take over. Because those thoughts? Those thoughts told her something was off with Bobby.
Not big things, nothing anyone else would notice. He still kissed her goodbye in the morning. Still packed her lunch sometimes, dropped her coffee off on his way to the station. But lately… he’d been distracted. On the phone a lot, hanging up the second she walked into the room. Turning down dinner with her for vague “another time” promises. Leaving way too early for his meetings.
The Bobby she knew, the Bobby she trusted, wasn’t a liar. But the Bobby she knew also wasn’t secretive. Not with her. And yet here she was, making excuses in her head for things that didn’t add up.
So when May texted her mid shift asking if she wanted sushi for dinner, Athena’s reply was sharper than it needed to be.
No. Just order whatever you want.
When Bobby called to check in, she kept her tone flat, like every word was an effort.
Yeah, my day’s fine. Busy.
And when her captain stopped by her desk with coffee and that teasing smile, Athena’s only response was a sigh so heavy it could’ve knocked the cup right out of Hen’s hand.
“Okay, what’s up with you?” Elaine finally asked.
“Nothing.” Athena bit out, the word so clipped it could cut glass.
But Elaine just raised a brow, unconvinced.
And that was the problem. Because it wasn’t nothing. It was Bobby. It was always Bobby.
“Mm-hm.” Elaine leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Nothing looks a whole lot like you biting dispatch’s head off and nearly scaring the rookie into early retirement.”
Athena’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, jaw tightening. “Maybe people should learn how to do their jobs right.”
Elaine blinked, caught off guard by the bite in her tone. Normally, Athena was blunt, sure—but this? This was bristly. Defensive.
“Alright,” Elaine said slowly, backing off with her hands raised. “Whatever you say.”
Athena finally glanced up then, forcing a tight smile. “Exactly. Whatever I say.”
Elaine chuckled under her breath and walked off, muttering, “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed…”
Athena’s fake smile dropped the second she was gone, shoulders sagging. Because the truth was, she hadn’t woken up on the wrong side of the bed. She’d woken up in the right bed, with the right man. But lately? Lately it felt like she was the only one who thought so.
———
The nail tech was chatting happily about her own boyfriend, how he always brought her little surprises—coffee in the mornings, flowers on Fridays. Athena smiled politely, nodding in the right places, but her mind was anywhere but here.
Bobby had been…different. Not cold, not distant. If anything, he’d been more affectionate. More kisses before he left for work. Lunch dropped off like clockwork. Soft touches at her waist, his hand slipping into hers when she least expected it. All the things a cheating man wouldn’t bother with.
And yet—Michael had been affectionate, too. He’d kissed her goodnight every evening, kissed her good morning every day, held her hand in public. He’d been a good husband, a safe one. Until she found out he was keeping a whole other life tucked neatly behind her back.
The sting of that memory had never fully dulled.
She stared down at her toes, letting the girl paint them the soft pink Bobby said he liked, and tried to ignore the knot tightening in her chest. It wasn’t crazy to wonder. It wasn’t paranoid. Not when secrets had blown her life up once before.
And Bobby had secrets right now. Phone calls he brushed off as “no one.” A little black notepad he kept shoving into his jacket pocket the second she walked in the room.
Her anniversary was in three days. And the thought hit her like a punch to the gut—was her husband really cheating on her days before their anniversary?
Her throat burned. She shifted in her seat, forcing a smile when the tech asked if she liked the color. “It’s fine.” Athena murmured, though nothing about her felt fine at all.
Athena tapped her card against the little machine, forcing herself to smile at the nail tech when she wished her a good day. She muttered a polite “you too” before slipping her bag onto her shoulder and heading out into the California sun.
The brightness didn’t touch her mood.
She walked to her car slowly, her fresh nails catching in the light every time she curled her hands. They should’ve made her feel good—fresh, put together. Instead, every little sound, every movement just grated. She slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door harder than necessary, and just sat there for a minute.
Her phone sat on the console. She stared at it like it might reveal something if she waited long enough. Bobby’s smile in the photo she had set as her lock screen. Safe, steady Bobby. She wanted to believe that’s all there was to it. But Michael had been safe and steady, too, until he wasn’t.
Athena started the car with a sigh, pulling out of the parking lot. The drive home was muscle memory, but her thoughts were loud enough to drown out the radio.
What if she’d missed the signs? What if Bobby’s sweetness was just guilt dressed up in a suit and tie? She hated even thinking it, but hadn’t she felt this gnawing pit in her stomach before? Back when she’d still believed her first marriage was solid, unshakable?
And worse—what if she asked and he lied? What if he looked her in the eye, touched her cheek, kissed her, and lied the way Michael had?
Her jaw clenched.
She shook her head like she could physically throw the thoughts out the window, but they clung to her like a shadow.
By the time she pulled into the driveway, she already knew the house would be empty. Bobby was at work. The kids were still at school. It was just her and the walls, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be left alone with her thoughts right now.
She killed the engine, sat in silence for a beat longer than she needed, and finally got out.
The house was quiet, too quiet. She set her purse down by the door and leaned against it, arms folded. Her chest felt heavy, her head buzzing. She hated surprises, hated secrets, hated the way her body remembered heartbreak even when her brain told her she should know better.
Athena drew in a long, shaky breath and muttered to herself, “Lord, don’t let me be right about this man.”
———
Athena had been the one to suggest girls night this time—her way of making up for snapping at Hen earlier in the week. She’d even picked up Hen’s favorite wine on the way over, a little peace offering clinking around in the paper bag she carried.
“Look at you, bearing gifts.” Hen teased as she opened the door.
Athena smiled, sheepish, handing the bottle over. “Least I could do, considering I was a little… sharp last time we talked.”
Hen waved her off, ushering her inside. “You? Sharp? Never.”
“Mmhm,” Athena hummed, kicking off her shoes at the door.
The night had all the makings of comfort—takeout boxes spread across Hen’s coffee table, wine glasses half full, reruns playing low on the TV. Athena laughed in the right places, chimed in with a few stories of her week, but her mind kept circling the same dark track. Every time her phone buzzed, her eyes darted toward it like a reflex. Every time Hen asked a casual question, she felt her throat tighten.
“You’ve barely touched your lo mein.” Hen finally pointed out, lifting a brow.
Athena stabbed at a noodle with her chopsticks, managing a faint smile. “Guess I’m not that hungry.”
“Not hungry, or too busy brooding?” Hen teased, but her voice was soft, curious.
Athena shook her head, taking a sip of her wine to avoid answering. The liquid burned just enough going down that she welcomed it.
Hen didn’t press—not yet. She leaned back against the couch, swirling her glass. “I was about to say, you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Usually I can’t get you to stop dragging me about my music taste.”
That earned a small laugh out of Athena, but it faded almost instantly.
She wanted to talk. God, she wanted to spill all the ugly thoughts tangling up in her head, the ones she hadn’t even admitted out loud to herself yet. But the words clung stubbornly to the back of her throat, her pride holding them hostage.
Instead, she asked Hen about her week, nodding along at the stories, smiling at the right times. On the outside, she looked like the perfect friend, giving her full attention. But in her chest, the storm raged louder.
At one point, when Hen excused herself to grab more wine, Athena let her shoulders slump, her hand pressing against her forehead. Two days. Their anniversary was in two days, and she should’ve been excited, should’ve been planning a dress, maybe a dinner. Instead, she was drowning herself in paranoia.
Hen returned, plopping back down on the couch and handing Athena a fresh pour. She gave her a look—pointed, knowing—but didn’t say anything. Not yet.
Athena sipped again, staring down at the red liquid swirling in her glass. If she didn’t tell Hen tonight, she was going to lose her mind.
Hen let Athena skate by for most of the night—let her pick at her food, half laugh at jokes, drift in and out of the conversation like a ghost. But Hen was Hen, and Athena should’ve known she wasn’t going to get away with it forever.
“You know,” Hen started carefully, curling her legs beneath her on the couch, “you’ve been sitting here with that storm cloud face for about two hours now. You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I need to start guessing?”
Athena rolled her eyes, too quickly. “Nothing’s going on.”
Hen smirked, like she’d expected that answer. “Mmhm. Nothing’s going on, but you’re acting like your noodles insulted you. Try again.”
“I’m fine.” Athena’s tone was sharper this time, defensive. But Hen didn’t flinch. She just leaned in, her voice softening.
“Athena.”
It was the kind of voice that demanded honesty, the one that didn’t let you wriggle away. Athena sighed, sinking back against the couch cushions, her nails tapping against her wine glass.
“I don’t…” she started, then stopped. Her throat felt dry, like the words were catching on barbed wire.
Hen reached out, covering Athena’s hand with her own. “Whatever it is, you can say it. It’s me.”
Athena’s jaw clenched. She could hear herself breathing, steady but shaky, before the words tumbled out faster than she intended.
“I think Bobby’s cheating on me.”
The silence that followed was sharp, deafening. Hen blinked once. Twice. Then set her glass down.
“…What?”
Athena shook her head, like she was ashamed of herself for even saying it out loud. “He’s been so secretive lately, and I just—” Her voice cracked, and she quickly masked it with a scoff. “I know how it sounds, okay? But he’s hiding things, Hen. Taking calls, brushing me off, leaving early for ‘meetings.’ And I know that’s exactly how Michael started.”
There it was—the raw, ugly truth, laid out between them.
Hen’s expression softened instantly, the kind of compassion that made Athena want to curl up and cry. “Athena… Bobby is not Michael.”
“You don’t know that.” Athena muttered, too quickly, wiping at her face before any tears could fall.
Hen leaned forward, her voice firmer now. “No. I do know that. I’ve worked with that man for years. He worships the ground you walk on. He’s not out here running around behind your back.”
Athena wanted to believe her. God, she did. But doubt was a stubborn thing, one that had dug its claws deep into her chest.
Hen gave her hand another squeeze. “You gotta talk to him. Not me. Not your own fears. Him. Because if you sit in this, it’s just gonna eat you alive.”
Athena let out a shaky laugh, though it sounded nothing like amusement. “You make it sound so easy.”
Hen tilted her head, gentle but unrelenting. “With Bobby? It is.”
Athena fell silent, staring down into her wine glass like the answers might be at the bottom. But the confession had already slipped free, and for the first time all week, she felt just a little lighter.
———
Athena sat on the edge of the bed, silk hugging every curve. Not new lingerie, not forgotten, but chosen with purpose. He loved this one—the deep red, the way it cut across her hips, the way his eyes always darkened when he saw it. Tonight, she needed that look from him. Needed proof.
Not because she didn’t know he’d want her—no, Bobby always wanted her. But because tonight, she needed to feel it. She needed to see it. To remind herself that his hands still reached for her first.
The bathroom door creaked, steam rolling out, and Bobby stepped through, towel loose around his waist. His eyes landed on her, lingered, and then that smile curved his mouth. Slow. Hungry.
“Lord have mercy.” he rasped, voice lower than usual. “You’re trying to kill me before our anniversary?”
She smirked, though her chest was tight. “Can’t a wife spoil her husband?”
The towel hit the floor. He didn’t even hesitate. He was on her in seconds, hands spreading her thighs, lips dragging fire up her neck. And she—she grabbed fistfuls of his damp hair, kissed him like her life depended on it, like she could drown her doubts in his mouth.
Her thoughts were a storm—messy, loud, panicked. He’s hiding things. He’s lying. He’s slipping away. Show him. Make him remember.
When he pulled back to breathe, she whispered, “I need you.” Not soft. Not tender. A demand.
His brows flicked in surprise, but then he growled—an honest to God growl—and flipped her back onto the mattress. He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, tongue sliding against hers until she whimpered into his mouth.
Her hands roamed down, palming him through the thin towel until he hissed. He tore it off, and she pushed her hips up, desperate, aching, clawing at him to get closer.
“Slow down.” he murmured, but she shook her head, biting his lip until he groaned.
“No. I want you now.”
He gave her what she wanted. Rough hands pulling the silk aside, sliding into her heat with fingers that knew every spot to press, every rhythm to make her writhe. And she did—back arching, moans spilling against his shoulder. But just as she was about to break, he pulled his hand away and replaced it with his mouth.
Her cry filled the room, sharp and desperate, as he held her thighs wide, tongue dragging her apart until her vision blurred. She came hard, trembling, clawing at the sheets, and he didn’t stop until she shoved at his shoulders, overwhelmed.
But she wasn’t done. No, she couldn’t be. Not tonight. She yanked him up by his hair, kissed him filthy, tasted herself on his lips, and whispered, “Now, Bobby.”
He slid into her slow, careful, and she almost cursed at the tenderness. She didn’t want careful tonight. She wanted raw. So she wrapped her legs around his waist, nails raking down his back, hips grinding up to meet him harder.
“Faster,” she panted. “Harder.”
And he obeyed, groaning into her ear, thrusts snapping rougher, deeper, until she couldn’t hold back the moans tearing out of her throat. Every sound was a plea—Don’t leave me. Don’t want anyone else. Only me.
He didn’t know that was what she was saying, but he felt it. He always did. So he kissed her through it, bit her shoulder, whispered “I love you” against her skin as he drove them both higher.
When release hit, it was messy, tangled, sweat soaked and raw. She clung to him like he was slipping away, shaking, crying out his name until her voice cracked.
And when it was over, she collapsed under him, body heavy, heart heavier. He brushed her hair back, kissed her damp forehead, whispered, “Happy almost anniversary.”
She smiled, because she had to. But when he fell asleep, she lay awake staring at the ceiling.
Because for all the fire they made together, it couldn’t burn away the question she was too afraid to ask.
———
The precinct was loud, phones ringing off the hook, detectives moving in and out with files tucked under their arms, but Athena couldn’t focus on a damn thing. Not the case reports stacked on her desk. Not the two rookies bickering over paperwork in the corner. Not even the half eaten bagel sitting right in front of her.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced down.
Happy anniversary, beautiful. I hate that you forgot to take the day off. Would’ve loved to spend the morning in bed with you. But I’ll see you tonight.
Her chest tightened. She stared at the words, thumb hovering.
See you tonight.
Yeah, right. She could practically hear the sarcasm in her own head. He wanted to spend the morning in bed with her? Or with whoever he kept ducking out early to meet? Whoever made him smile at his phone, made him shut his notebook the second she walked in the room?
She set her phone face down on the desk and rubbed her temples.
It didn’t add up. Last night—God, last night. He’d touched her like she was the only woman in the world. Kissed her until she forgot her own name. Made her come undone again and again until she couldn’t even speak. That wasn’t a man pulling away. That wasn’t a man with someone else on his mind.
Her stomach churned. She hated herself for even thinking it, but the question sat in her chest like a stone: was Bobby really any different?
“Athena?”
She blinked, realizing Elaine had been standing there, files in her hands, looking at her like she’d spaced out mid sentence.
“You alright?” Elaine asked carefully, eyes narrowing the way only another woman could when she knew something was off.
Athena pasted on a smile, too quick, too bright. “Fine. Just tired. Rough week.”
Elaine didn’t buy it. She tilted her head, lips pursing. “You sure?”
Athena nodded, maybe a little too sharply. “I’m fine.”
And that was that. Elaine walked off, though Athena could feel her coworker’s eyes lingering on her back. She knew better than to pry, but Athena hated how obvious her unease must’ve been.
As the day dragged on, she kept checking her phone like a teenager. Bobby hadn’t texted again. And every hour that ticked by brought her closer to tonight. To whatever he was hiding. To the moment she’d finally get her answer.
She wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of being wrong…or being right.
By early afternoon, she was out in the cruiser, sunlight glaring across the windshield, radio chatter filling the silence she was trying so hard to keep in her head. A call had come through—a disturbance at a corner market—and she’d taken it just to get out of the building.
“Dispatch, 727-L-30 on scene.”
She swung out of the car, hand resting on her hip near her holster. Two teenagers were arguing with the store clerk, voices sharp, arms waving. Athena’s heels clicked across the pavement, her badge catching the sun.
“Alright, what’s going on here?” she demanded, tone all business.
The boys started talking at once, voices tumbling over each other. Something about stolen chips, something about a misunderstanding. Athena’s jaw flexed. Normally she’d sort through it with patience, pick apart the details until she got to the truth. But today, she didn’t have the patience.
“Enough.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “One at a time.”
The clerk jumped in, indignant, but Athena was already sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose. They were kids. Kids being loud, being stupid. It wasn’t worth the headache. She handed out warnings and sent them on their way, her own irritation prickling under her skin.
As she climbed back into the cruiser, her phone buzzed. Her heart leapt before she even looked.
But it wasn’t Bobby. Just May, checking if she’d be able to do dinner tomorrow night.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She almost typed Depends if your stepfather is lying to me—and then deleted it, guilt swamping her chest. May adored Bobby. Harry, too. He was good with them, patient where Michael had been sharp, steady where she sometimes felt like she was faltering. Bobby had stepped into her family with a gentleness that still amazed her.
And she was sitting here doubting him.
She shoved the phone back in her pocket and pulled out onto the street.
The rest of the afternoon dragged. She snapped at a rookie for fumbling his report, sighed her way through traffic control after a fender bender, and barely listened during a briefing with her captain. Every time her phone buzzed, her pulse jumped—only to crash when it wasn’t him.
By the time her shift ended, she was more exhausted from her thoughts than the work itself. She sat in the car outside their house for a long moment, engine off, hands gripping the wheel.
Tonight. She’d get her answer tonight.
She just wasn’t sure she was ready for it.
Athena parked next to his truck in the driveway. Staring at his truck like it was mocking her.
Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel, mind spinning circles. All day she’d been short with everyone, lashing out at rookies, rolling her eyes at captains, forcing smiles at victims when she had nothing left to give. It wasn’t the job. It wasn’t the stress. It was him.
And now she was sitting outside her own house, terrified to walk inside.
She took a slow breath, reaching for her purse. Get it over with, Athena. She’d been dreading this moment all day, and the longer she sat here, the heavier it got.
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she climbed out of the car, the May air clinging warm and heavy to her skin. She smoothed a hand over her uniform, steadied herself at the porch steps, and unlocked the door.
What she expected was silence.
What she got was… magic.
Her breath caught the moment the door swung open.
Red and pink draped across the room, flowers spilling from every surface, petals scattered in a careful trail leading deeper into the house. Candles flickered soft golden light, and the smell of garlic and butter wrapped around her like a hug she didn’t deserve.
And there he was.
Bobby stood in the center of it all, bouquet in hand, suit black and sharp against the glow, smiling at her the way only he could—like she was his entire world.
“Happy anniversary, Athena.”
The words hit her like a punch. Her chest seized, eyes blurring instantly, though not the way he thought.
Because he thought she was crying out of joy. And she was—partly. But mostly? Guilt. Bone deep, throat closing guilt.
Because how could she? How could she spend days, weeks, thinking the worst of him, convincing herself that he was hiding another woman, another betrayal… while he was here, planning this?
“Athena?” His smile faltered, his brows pinched with concern. “What’s wrong?”
And just like that, she broke.
Her hand flew to her mouth as the tears came harder, sobs slipping through before she could stop them. “Oh, Bobby…”
He was at her side in seconds, flowers tossed to the couch, arms around her before she could fall. He held her so tight she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, steady, unshakable, even as she trembled.
“Hey, talk to me,” he whispered into her hair. “Please.”
She shook her head, ashamed, clinging to him like she’d drown if she let go. “I thought—I thought you were hiding something from me. I thought…” Her voice cracked, breaking open years of old wounds she thought she’d buried. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Bobby pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands cupping her face, thumbs brushing her wet cheeks. His eyes, so tender it made her ache, didn’t waver for a second.
“Athena,” he said softly, steady as stone, “surprises aren’t secrets. Secrets hurt people. I’d never do that to you.”
And there it was. The one truth she needed to hear, from the only man she’d ever truly trusted with all of her.
Her tears didn’t stop. But this time, when she leaned into him, it wasn’t out of fear. It was love. Pure, burning, terrifying love.
“Athena…” His voice cracked just a little, and God, if that didn’t break her even more. “Baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
He kept wiping at her cheeks like he could erase every drop of guilt, every crack in her heart, if he just tried hard enough. His hands were so gentle, so careful, tilting her face back up to his.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should’ve thought it through. I know you hate surprises. I just—I wanted to give you something special. Something you didn’t have to plan or carry on your shoulders.”
And of course. Of course Bobby Nash would apologize for planning a beautiful, romantic, candlelit anniversary evening.
That only made her cry harder.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head fast, clutching at his suit jacket like it was the only thing keeping her upright. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one saying sorry. I—” she broke off, the shame flooding back, thick and heavy. “I thought the worst.”
Bobby flinched like the words hurt him physically, but he didn’t let go. He only pulled her closer, pressed a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her trembling mouth.
“Is that what last night was about?” he asked softly, lips brushing against her skin. “Why you—why you were so… intense?”
She went still, heat flooding her face. Her heart thudded painfully. “Bobby—”
“It’s okay,” he cut in gently, reading her silence like an open book. He always did. “You don’t have to explain. I just… I wish you would’ve told me. I would’ve sworn on everything, Athena. I would never do that to you. Not you.”
Her breath shook, her chest aching, because he meant it. He always meant it. And here she was, doubting him. Testing him against ghosts of a man who wasn’t even in the picture anymore.
She buried her face in his chest, voice muffled against the fabric. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” she swallowed hard—“to punish you for someone else’s mistakes.”
He exhaled slow, one big hand smoothing over her curls, the other anchored at her waist. He didn’t say it’s okay—because it wasn’t. But he also didn’t let her go.
Instead, he kissed her again. Slow, lingering, lips warm and sure against hers.
“I love you.” he whispered when he pulled back, forehead resting against hers. “Every damn day. That’s never gonna change. Not for anything or anyone.”
Her tears had slowed, but her eyes still shimmered when she finally whispered back, “I love you more.”
And it wasn’t just words—it was a promise. A plea. A vow she’d never let herself forget again.
Bobby smiled at that, finally, small but soft enough to make her heart ache. “Then let me show you what I’ve been planning. Dinner first. And then… the rest of it.”
He brushed one last kiss to her lips, thumb swiping her cheek one more time, before taking her hand and leading her further inside.
The candles, the petals, the meal—it was all beautiful. But for Athena, nothing mattered more than the way he was looking at her. Like she was the only thing that had ever been on his mind.