Page 83 of Undercover Hearts
They carried the remaining boxes down to Michelle's SUV, loading them with practiced synchronicity. As Jenna locked the apartment door for the final time, she felt only anticipation rather than regret or nostalgia.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the covered parking at Michelle's building—theirbuilding now. The afternoon sun cast golden light across the landscaped entrance as they carried boxes up in the elevator, the doorman holding it open with a knowing smile.
Michelle's apartment had transformed over the past months, subtle changes marking Jenna's gradual integration. The formerly minimalist space now featured photographs on walls, comfortable throws across furniture, and bookshelves filling with an eclectic mix of their combined collections.
"Where should these go?" Michelle asked, setting down a box of Jenna's favorite novels.
"I was thinking along that wall," Jenna suggested, indicating the space beside the living room window. "If you're sure there's room."
Something flickered across Michelle's expression, a moment of hesitation that caught Jenna's attention immediately.
"What is it?" she asked.
Michelle ran a hand through her hair, a gesture Jenna had learned indicated genuine uncertainty rather than her usual calculated composure.
"I want you to make this yours too," she said finally. "Not just fit yourself into spaces I've left available."
The admission revealed the vulnerability beneath Michelle's confident exterior—her concern that her carefully structured life might not offer enough flexibility for true partnership.
Jenna set down the box she was holding, moving to where Michelle stood. "This isn't about fitting into available spaces," she said gently. "It's about creating something new together."
She gestured to the apartment around them, the space already transformed by their combined presence. "Look at what's already changed. Your organizational system has been completely disrupted by my chaos theory approach to bookshelves."
The observation drew a small smile from Michelle. "Dewey decimal would have been preferable to whatever method you've introduced."
"Emotional categorization," Jenna explained with mock seriousness. "Books that make you think with books that make you feel. Revolutionary concept."
The tension dissolved as Michelle's smile widened into something genuine. "Revolutionary indeed."
As evening approached, they ordered takeout from their favorite Thai restaurant, settling onto the couch with containers spread across the coffee table. Through the floor-to-ceilingwindows, Phoenix Ridge spread before them, city lights beginning to twinkle in the gathering dusk.
"I never expected this," Michelle said after a comfortable silence, her voice soft with wonder.
"Thai food on a Tuesday?" Jenna teased gently.
"A home that feels like home," Michelle clarified, her gaze taking in the apartment's transformation. "Someone to share it with."
The admission—simple yet profound from a woman who had structured her life around professional achievement rather than personal connection—warmed Jenna deeply.
"When we started that operation," Jenna said, setting down her container, "I was focused on proving myself in a new department. Finding my place professionally. I never imagined I'd find something more important along the way."
Michelle took her hand, fingers intertwining with natural ease. "We'll face challenges. My recovery still has difficult days ahead. My workaholic tendencies won't disappear overnight."
"And I'll occasionally reorganize your perfectly arranged files based on color rather than content," Jenna added with a smile. "Just to watch you twitch."
"Deliberately provocative," Michelle observed, but her eyes crinkled with humor.
"We'll figure it out," Jenna said with certainty. "Everything that matters takes work."
The simple truth settled between them, an acknowledgment that what had begun in pretense now required conscious cultivation. Their connection represented a foundation stronger than either had experienced before.
Later, as they prepared for sleep in their now-shared bedroom, Jenna watched Michelle moving through her evening routine. The careful precision remained, but the rigid self-sufficiency had softened. She now accepted help when her injury required it, no longer viewing interdependence as weakness.
"What?" Michelle asked, catching Jenna's contemplative gaze in the bathroom mirror.
"Just thinking about how far we've come," Jenna replied. "From Captain and Detective to Michelle Rodriguez and Jenna Wolfe to...us. The real us."
Michelle turned, her expression open in the way that still felt like a gift when it appeared. "The real us is better than any cover identity."