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CHAPTERS

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN

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Part Seven

Lindsay Boxer was a hell bitch on wheels.

At least according to the guy she collared she was, and honestly, Lindsay couldn't really dispute the statement. Neither could Jacobi, who shot her an exasperated glare as he placed a knee over the spine of the man she had just broken the nose of, yanking both hands behind him and reached for his handcuffs.

"God-DAMN, Lindsay!" he heaved, panting with annoyance and exertion. "Are you trying to get us sued or what? Walk this off."

The back of her palm pressed against her mouth, Lindsay struggled to get herself under control. The adrenaline was still coursing through her bloodstream, and head ringing from frustration, she felt her legs twitch and swiveled on the grass, hands coming down on her hips as she stalked off.

At her car, she leaned against the metallic door, sliding down on her haunches and rubbing sweaty palms down over her thighs, keeping her head down.

"You know, Tom's gonna have your ass."

Laughing bitterly, Lindsay managed a shrug, eyes on the ground. "The guy was resisting," she managed feebly.

"The first time you hit him, maybe.,," Jacobi acknowledged, crawling down beside her, much less graceful in his descent. Wheezing, he waited a moment to recover before he placed his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. "So… you gonna tell me what's been bothering you this past week or are you gonna let us both get suspended for your excessive brutality?"

A week, really? That was it? Lindsay had been stepping barefoot on pins and needles for only a week?

Mouth trembling bitterly, she sucked in a breath of air through her nose, and flipped her hair back, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to bring circulation back into the tight muscles.

"I've just never been that great at waiting."

"Waiting," he repeated, and Lindsay kept her eyes on the park, watching as the Uniforms stuffed her latest victim into the back of their black and white patrol car, removing the blood soaked tissue from his nose and offering him another. "Whatcha waiting for?"

Everything. Anything. Any hint of an answer. Evidence that Cindy's confession of love and resulting kiss hadn't been some achingly real dream or some figment of her imagination.

Bringing her hands together, she rubbed her palms against each other, gripping so hard she nearly bruised her own bones.

"Lindsay."

She had spent a whole week with her heart in her throat, a nervous wreck every time she saw Cindy in the precinct or got a phone call with her name on the caller id. Each time, she entertained the hope that maybe this was THE call, the one that told her that Cindy was ready to talk about what they had done, had processed this enough to really believe her. Each time, she was disappointed, and Cindy was polite and sweet and GOD-DAMNED normal.

It devastated her. Each and every time, and the tense coil that held Lindsay's heart in a vice grip grew tighter and tighter, making it difficult to function, much less act like it was so damned casual and okay.

This last call, the one Cindy had given to her right before they got to this guy, with her lead and her casual 'meeting at Claire's' had been too much, and Mr. Coke Dealer had gotten the punishment for it.

"You know Pete and me broke up," she said thickly, and beside her, Jacobi nodded quietly. "Yeah, so… the reason is because I'm kinda… I've got a thing for someone else."

"The reporter," Jacobi said gravely, with so much finality that she swiveled her head and stared at him in surprise. "What?" he asked, scoffing at her incredulous look. "I've got eyes, Lindsay."

Of course he did. Because it was all she could do not to moon after Cindy Thomas like some lovesick teenager every time she even caught a whiff of a familiar perfume or saw a flash of red hair, and Cindy never came to her anymore. When she saw her, she was always heading downstairs, or upstairs to Jill.

It was pitiful how much that hurt, impossible to hide, and of course, Jacobi had seen it. Half-embarrassed, half-resigned, Lindsay resorted to plucking blades of grass from the lawn beneath her feet, flinging the little green flecks away from her.

"So what's the hold up?"

Lindsay managed to turn her wince into a smile. "She doesn't believe me," she growled. "She asked for time. Stuffed her tongue down my throat, told me she loved me and didn't want to stop, and then said she needed time to process."

"Spoken like a true lesbian."

The statement was so flippant, and so…. True, Lindsay could only gape in shock, and suddenly convulse in laughter. The release was sorely needed, and when Jacobi placed a careful arm over her shoulder, she leaned in gladly, slumping against their car, and watching the city of San Francisco proceed about its business without them.

"God-damned Cindy Thomas," she breathed with wonder, and knew that Jacobi knew what she meant.

"I knew she'd get you," was all he said, and it didn't matter how he knew, because it was true.

Lindsay Boxer smiled, and leaned a brunette head against her partner's shoulder, resigned to that fact.

Somehow, it made it easier.

--

Her heart literally skipped a beat when Lindsay Boxer walked into the morgue, tall and lanky, and absolutely gorgeous. Despite the fact that there were three of them crowded around the table, Lindsay's deep dark eyes seemed to automatically hone in on her, and the intensity directed at her was enough to make her breathless.

Her fingers curled automatically, and all she could offer was a small, private smile, before her breath became erratic and she forced her attention from Lindsay back to what Claire was saying.

Business as usual.

Of course, when Lindsay was in the room, she never really could focus on anything for long. Not when she could just avert her eyes carefully and study long, slender fingers, with short, bitten fingernails and calloused thumbs. A worn, heavy jacket that fit onto Lindsay like a second skin, and underneath an open collared shirt, that displayed just the hint of cleavage and the smooth, olive skinned throat, with the vein that pulsed whenever Lindsay clenched her jaw.

Her careful study of her beloved was interrupted when the object of her fascination seemed to sense she was watching, and once again, locked eyes with hers.

The burst of sudden heat in her direction made her weak-kneed, and lips parting to take in a ragged breath, she once again averted her eyes quickly.

God, if she thought loving Lindsay was torture before…

The test she had given herself, her one moment of weakness in which she lost her battle with instinct and plundered Lindsay's lips, had failed miserably, when Lindsay Boxer had given her the best kiss of her life.

A week later, she was still trying to wrap her head around it, and now, everything she wanted within reach, Cindy Thomas wondered why on earth she was just so scared to take what Lindsay was so obviously offering.

But it had only been a week, and Cindy was hesitating, so sure that Lindsay would come to her senses, take Pete back, do anything but wait her out.

But they were here, in a morgue, and awareness of Lindsay Boxer kept her in a hyperactive state of acute arousal and painful need. It was becoming clear to Cindy that, despite her best efforts, there was no getting away from this.

"Cindy."

The soft rasp of Jill whispering against her ear and the nudge against her elbow, knocked her dizzily out of her thoughts, and she discovered all three of her club companions staring at her. "Yes?" she managed, and nearly kicked herself when it came out strangled.

Claire actually had the audacity to be amused. "Did you get what you needed?" she asked gently, as if she had been forced to ask more than once. "That's as much as we can release off the record."

Thankfully, a pleading look to Jill saved her, as the lawyer leaned in and whispered, "I'll email you the files."

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, and for the wider audience, nodded. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

"Great." Claire busied herself placing the white sheet once more over their victim, and as she did, a shrill chime rang through the air, resulting in Jill reaching into her pocket and pulling out her Blackberry, taking the call.

With both women busy, Cindy's eyes inevitably dragged to Lindsay, who had dug hands into her pockets, and was regarding her with a shy, awkwardly charming smile playing across her lips.

The sight was absolutely intoxicating.

Exhaling, she realized she must have given away something, because Lindsay's smile twitched, and then suddenly she was edging forward, moving around the table Claire was now pulling away, and glancing uneasily to a chattering Jill, who had currently turned her back.

Nerves suddenly on edge, feet planted to the floor, Cindy watched her come closer, until she was only a foot away, looking down at her with the most beautiful grin.

"Hi," she breathed, and Cindy's knees nearly buckled.

"Hi," she managed, and prayed like hell her suddenly stampeding heartbeat wasn't as loud as she thought was. "How are you?"

"I'm… I'm okay," Lindsay said, shoulders bunching together in a half-shrug. "How are you?

The idea that they had dissolved in polite formalities was beyond ridiculous, and Cindy blushed, head tilting before glancing away, then back to Lindsay again. "I'm…" She swallowed, and tried to maintain her quiet, soft voice. "I'm okay." Then, before she could stop herself she blurted, "How are you?"

Immediately, she flushed head to toe, and Lindsay just looked at her, slightly stunned, until the smile widened and she was graced with a soft chuckle that vibrated through Cindy up and down her spine.

"I was going take Martha for walk tonight, down at the dog park," Lindsay said suddenly, rocking back on her heels and scratching at her elbow. She wore that same nervous expression Cindy wasn't used to seeing on her, and it was both adorable and heartbreaking to see, because Cindy had never meant for this to happen to them. Not stilted conversation or something that barely passed for friendship. "I was wondering… if maybe you wanted to come."

She did want to come. She wanted more than anything to come. But the words wouldn't make it past her lips. They were blocked in her throat, and lost, Cindy glanced toward Jill, leaning idly back on Claire's desk, still discussing some case or another with whoever was on the phone.

"I would… but I can't," she finally choked, and felt absurdly ashamed. She tore her gaze away, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on Lindsay's face. "I promised Jill that we'd go out tonight. You know, just the two of us."

It was the worst thing to say, and despite not wanting to see it, Cindy's lids lifted, and she saw the color drain from Lindsay's face, before her beautiful friend recovered to offer a muted smile and a too bouncy bob of her head.

"Maybe I can take a raincheck?" she asked, suddenly desperate to fix it, try and make the disappointed face disappear. "You know, later this week?"

The smile she got wasn't much, but it was a start. With a closed throat, she grabbed hold of Lindsay's forearm, meant to squeeze it, and found herself instead just holding onto it. The feel of the cool skin underneath her fingertips caused a lump in her throat, and again, she swallowed it down. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when she realized Lindsay had grabbed hold of her too, and they were standing there, hands on forearms, unable to shake free.

Her head lifted, her eyes locked with Lindsay's.

As her skin pebbled with goosebumps, Lindsay suddenly seemed to retreat, fingers letting go, bringing her arm back and holding it to her like if she had been burnt. "I better go. Have a good time tonight."

--

"You know, I never thought I'd say this, but Big Bad Lindsay Boxer is kind of a pussy when it comes to love."

That statement, of course, had to come to Jill. Irritably, Lindsay glanced away from the one way mirror and regarded her sexy best friend, who lounged in the open doorway, light illuminating her blonde cropped cut from behind like an inappropriate halo.

"I'm questioning a suspect," she state matter-of-factly, refusing to be baited.

Jill glanced toward the mirror, observing Jacobi and the young man with the broken nose. "I know," she answered after a moment, crossing her arms and letting the door swing shut behind her. "I got a call from his lawyer planning to sue for excessive violence made during the arrest."

Lindsay's eyes shut in a bonafide wince. Because that was all she needed. "Shit," she breathed.

Jill's shoulder brushed with hers, and she sounded conversational when she answered, "Don’t worry about it. We'll work something out. It won't come to that."

Like always, Jill was taking care of her. Eyes sliding to study her friend, Lindsay bit her lip in grateful contemplation. "You shouldn't have to bail me out."

Blue eyes seared into her, before glancing away. "You've done the same for me."

They lapsed into companionable silence, watching as Jacobi went at their suspect, lifting out Claire's paper depicting the poison found in the victim's system. Lindsay hitched in her breath when she felt a flat, rectangular object being placed firmly into her palm.

Glancing down, she turned her hand over and unfolding her fingers, discovered a matchbox painted decadently with a logo.

"111 Minna Gallery," she read, and tossed her friend a questioning glance.

"It's where we're going tonight," Jill explained helpfully, brow arching at Lindsay's bewildered expression. "They've got an awesome happy hour. And it's where you'll be too."

Oh. Chest tightening, Lindsay sucked in her breath and tried to keep her voice even. "Cindy asked me for time." Palm spread open, the little matchbox balanced on her fingers, she tried to give it back.

Jill just carefully grabbed her fingers, and once again closed them firmly around the box. "You didn't see the look on her face when you left her this morning." Lindsay blinked, mouth parting slightly. "I've obviously slept with a few more women than you, Linds," Jill continued helpfully. "Let me give you some advice. Sometimes, a 'no' means a 'yes'. Also, 'whatever' never means 'whatever' and if you ever hear the word 'fine'? Run."

"And what if it's a no?" Lindsay asked, because it could have been a no. And if it was a no, and she pushed Cindy before she was ready, she would really lose her. And she couldn't lose her. Not when she had never really had her. Not ever.

Jill just smiled, and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth. Stunned, Lindsay stood stock still. "This is when it's nice to have an in," she whispered in Lindsay's ear, and stepped back. "Trust me on this one, okay? What she needs is a gesture, a push over the hump. You come to this; I guarantee you're getting laid tonight. Also? Might be nice to bring someone hot for me."

Of course, halfway through that monologue, the door had opened, and her ex-husband, the Lieutenant, heard the last couple sentences.

Nonplussed, Jill smiled at him grandly. "Hi, Tom." Patting him on the shoulder, she turned back to Lindsay. "Also? Get ready. Your period is gonna go apeshit." With that, she weaved around him and exited the room.

Noting the pale, blank expression on her ex-husband's face, Lindsay licked her lips, and glanced down at the little matchbox.

Her heartbeat thudded once again painfully, but instead of grimacing, she smiled.

--

"Hi, I'm Jill, and I'd like you to meet Cindy, my wet blanket."

The statement finally seemed to get through her senses, and blinking, Cindy looked up from her cocktail and noticed Jill eyeing her with a twinkle in her eye, holding the hand of a suited hunk, in the middle of an obvious handshake.

Flushing, Cindy remembered her manners, and pasted on a smile, reaching out for a handshake and laughing uncomfortably. "I'm so sorry. I just zoned out there for a second there."

"It's okay," whatever-his-name-was said, issuing his most charming smile back to Jill. "Can I get you ladies a drink?"

"I’m already packing," Jill said, indicating her glass of wine, "And my friend is the Designated. But I'm sure she would LOVE a Shirley Temple."

Cindy hated Shirley Temples. She absolutely adored, however, the stricken expressions on the faces of the manly men that Jill dispatched to get the impossibly girly beverage on her behalf. One look at Jill's cat eyes, and she could sense that the very reason her friend had even brought up the silly drink was to put a smile on her face.

"Uh…" the poor guy stuttered, and he craned his neck, looking back to the burly bartender pouring a whiskey sour for an equally dapper man in a suit. "Yeah, sure. Be right back."

Hiding her smile, Cindy shook her head as she watched Jill's hunk duck through the crowd. "You know, if he actually comes back with that, you might actually have to make out with him."

"Pfft, he stunk like cigarettes," Jill said, waving him away immediately. "It's a total shame, too."

"This from the government lawyer with a joint stashed in with her sex toys."

Slipping a companionable arm around her shoulders, Jill squeezed harder than absolutely necessary. "Now, now, Cindy. That's unhygienic."

"Why?" she asked, dead-pan now, "You don't bleach?"

Jill rolled her eyes, and swiveled on her heel, eyeing the decadent art that was splashed before them. "As much fun as your impression of Daria is, are you sure you want to be here?'

It was a pointed question, and shoulders falling, Cindy closed her eyes and sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being such a bitch right now."

"I didn't say that," Jill twittered, eyes scanning the crowd. "Just saying, you're mind isn't into this."

And like always, Jill was right. She wasn't. Like always, her mind was morbidly and obsessively focused on one thing.

God, she missed Lindsay. She wanted to be in a dog park, with a muddy t-shirt, and a smelly dog, and the dimpled smile of the most beautiful woman on the planet. It was domestic and quiet, and nothing like this.

"What if she's changed her mind?" she asked, voice trembling despite herself as she looked beseechingly up at Jill. "What if she decided she can't wait for me to stop being such a fickle asshole, and calls Pete and-"

"And you're going to hyperventilate," Jill instructed, and tilted her wine glass toward her. "Drink some of this."

She made a face. "No. I'm detoxing." The reason had been clear. She had made enough of an ass of herself the last time she had overindulged.

"Fair enough." Jill was happy to do the drinking for her, taking a sip and arching a brow into the crowd, smile growing wider. Before Cindy could turn to see what had caught her attention, some new guy, no doubt, Jill grabbed hold of her shoulders and kept her in place. "New idea. Let's hook you up."

A flush of irritated misery flushed over her. "Oh, come on, Jill. That's what got us into this mess."

"Okay, but this one is totally hot." Jill's palms squeezed her shoulders, indicating her sincerity.

"They were all totally hot," she groused, feeling lovesick and besotted and pathetic. "And none of them were Lindsay."

Jill's lips twitched. "Right," she said, with some unspoken give in her voice that made Cindy's brow wrinkle. "Okay, then. How about that one?" The hands on her shoulders gripped hard, and swiveled her like a top, until she was staring into the crowd and directly at the form of one Lindsay Boxer.

Her knees nearly buckled. It was so cliché, but she immediately lost her breath, because Lindsay looked beautiful. She always did, but her hair seemed to tint blue from it's color of gossamer, and the hopeful, gentle smile that was sent her way went all the way through her, branding her, heart and soul.

"Lindsay!" she heard Jill call, but her ears were ringing, and there was nothing, nothing but the sight of Lindsay walking toward her, eyes locking onto her like some kind of homing beacon, and Cindy desperately wanted her to come home.

Suddenly, there she was, staring down at her with that gorgeous smile and those kissable dimples, and those soulful dark eyes. "Hi…"

Too stunned to speak, she opened and closed her mouth like a wooden puppet, and then glanced helplessly at a beaming Jill, who winked before saying to the absolutely gorgeous man at Lindsay's side, "Hi there. You for me?"

Before she was ready for it, they were alone, Jill off arm in arm with her impromptu date, and Lindsay right here, in front of her. "What are you doing here?" she finally blurted, and it was just the dumbest thing to say, because it destroyed the smile on Lindsay's face that had been so damned captivating.

"I just… Jill said…" Lindsay's mouth shut, and her swallow was visible as the lump went down her slender throat. Cindy was transfixed by the sight. "Is this okay?" Lindsay said, a moment later, sounding so unsure it broke her heart.

"Yes," she said immediately, and because she was apparently bi-polar, now was close to tears. "Yes, it's definitely okay. It's more than okay."

Lindsay smiled.

There was nothing better. Nothing.

"So, gonna drink Jill under the table?" she asked, purposely light in an effort to break the tension looming around them like a thick blanket. Lindsay's brow arched, and suddenly idiotically happy, she grinned. "Because I'd like to see that."

"Yeah, I bet you would, Thomas," came the sardonic response, and then, because Cindy could, she stepped forward, and into Lindsay's arms.

The moment her head fell against Lindsay's shirt, she heard Lindsay's heart beating so fast, thumping underneath her ear. Palms gently squeezed around Lindsay's waist; an intimate, tangled embrace.

Carefully, as if she were wrapping her arms around glass, Lindsay's hands came up and palmed around her shoulders, cheek falling against the top of Cindy's head.

There was no safer place in the world.

Above her, she heard a ragged sigh blow out from Lindsay, and her eyes fluttered closed at the pressure of lips pressing faintly against the top of her head. Lindsay's hold tightened, bringing her in closer.

"You know I’m not letting you go, right?"

The statement was a warning. Cindy recognized it immediately. There wasn't reassurance, but desperation in Lindsay's shaky tone, and it was then, that Cindy realized just how badly she had scared her when she had run from her that day.

Lifting her head, she studied glistening eyes and beautiful sculpted lips. Lindsay's expression was serious, so serious, but there were also a thousand other things in that face. Fear. Loyalty. Courage. But above all, love.

It was there. She could see it, and God help her, because she damn well believed it.

Swallowing down a grateful sob, Cindy's palms untangled from around Lindsay's waist and reached up to cup Lindsay's cheeks, thumb caressing the open lips lovingly. "Lindsay," she began raggedly, "I dare you to even try."

The arms tightened around her, leaving her breathless, and it was then that a foreign voice interjected obnoxiously, "For the record? She's still my wingman." Head lifting, Cindy lifted a brow at Jill, hand clasped with the hand of her impromptu date, regarding them with a menacing glare. "I mean it. I'm bargaining two nights a week with this little arrangement."

Lindsay blinked at her, and when Cindy, fighting a smile, shrugged, she shot flatly, "Once a week. And I chaperone."

"Buzz killer," Jill muttered, and rolled her eyes, allowing Lindsay's hunk to drag her away. "You guys suck!"

"You swallow!" Cindy offered cheerily, and when Jill stuck out her tongue, she let her head fall against Lindsay's lean shoulder and laughed.

--

There existed a sort of paradise in Lindsay Boxer's house.

It no longer felt hollow. Or empty. The spaces had been filled with the unique laughter that had been so sorely missed. A dog's tail wagged violently, and Lindsay Boxer discovered she was an absolute klutz when she tripped over an overexcited Martha and nearly banged her head on the coffeetable, unable to keep herself from falling thanks to her arms being caught in the shirt halfway down her biceps.

It was how they ended up on the floor, Cindy laughing as she toppled on top of her, elbow digging into her gut and expelling a gasp of breath from Lindsay.

Head falling back against the wood, Lindsay closed her eyes and laughed, chest rising and falling, dizzy and in love.

"Sorry," Cindy whispered, fingers cupping her chin, and in response Lindsay reached up blindly, lips finding the source of the words. Tongues immediately tangled, and her shortness of breath was no longer thanks to Cindy's sucker shot. She kissed Cindy Thomas because she could, feeling the small, firm breasts pressed down against hers, the silky smoothness of Cindy's abdomen smoothing against hers, and then her thighs opened and she bucked up against the firm leg that pressed down against her core.

Had she any control, she would have savored the moment, the intense realization that this is what had been missing from her life. As it was, her shirt was off, and then came her bra, and soon her own fingers were nimbly and frantically tugging and pushing at Cindy's dress, pushing it down over her waist so she could suck Cindy's breast into her mouth, moaning against a nipple and feeling Cindy's hands clasp her head hard.

Legs flailed and hips arched and then there was just Cindy and her heels, and Lindsay's half unbuttoned jeans, and the taste of Cindy's pulse on her throat as Lindsay pushed long fingers into the impossibly wet heat between Cindy's legs.

Fuck.

Cindy's whimpers made her shudder, the smell of Cindy's sex overpowering, moisture soaking her fingers, and she couldn't stop moving, fingers curling and arms flexing, jerking with a powerful, frenzied rhythm.

"I love you," she gasped hoarsely, before she could stop it, and then she didn't want to, because Cindy's fingers tightened around her head and jerked up, yanking her to meet her mouth for wet, tangled kiss, before the hips underneath her spasmed and Lindsay swallowed the deep, pleading groan.

And it was home.

Hours later, naked, spent and smelly, they curled onto the couch Lindsay now considered Cindy's. Her lover lay on top of her, tracing patterns across her chest, fingers rubbing idly around her left nipple.

"So how'd you snag a date for Jill?"

"Oh… the defense lawyer of the guy I arrested today. Thought she sounded cute on the phone. I made him take off his shirt, examined his abs, and then told him that was indeed the case."

She heard a faint chuckle, and her mouth twitched happily in reply.

"Jill takes this wingman thing pretty seriously."

"She should," Cindy snorted. "I'm an awesome wingman."

"Mmm," Lindsay agreed. "She trained you well, Padawan."

"Oh, God, a Star Wars reference? You're such a geek."

"You made me watch the whole damned trilogy, remember?"

"Right. But only the good ones!"

"There were good ones?"

She received a pinch for that.

Silence. Then-

"I can't believe you made Jill bargain down."

Eyes fluttering open, Lindsay sighed and closed them again, fingers threading through sweaty red hair, idly tangling strands between digits.

"Are you kidding? If I gave her any more leeway, she would have tried to include a threesome."

The note was meant to be light, but it cast an awkward tone tilt in the post-sex chatter. Cindy shifted in her arms, and sighing deeply, Lindsay inched an eye open to regard Cindy watching her strangely.

"You two have so slept together," Cindy said matter-of-factly. The blood rushed fast to her face, and her heart thumped in panic, but then Cindy just settled against her once more and resumed her slightly sweet, rather cruel torture of her left nipple. "I knew it. We're never getting rid of her. One New Years Eve we're going to get drunk out of our minds and wake up with her naked in between us. It's so going to happen."

The tone was said in jest, and Lindsay supposed maybe it was right, to discuss this, because it was true.

And even so, she couldn't help a crooked silly smile, a soft chuckle. "What?" Cindy asked lazily.

"You used 'we'." It was childish, and silly, and uncharacteristically giddy, Lindsay found herself displaying the most shit-eating grin the minute Cindy glanced up and arched another brow at her. "You're so in love with me."

"Oh, God, Lindsay."

"I believe the words were 'pathetically, blindingly, digustingly-"

"Oh God-dammit-"

Cindy was openly flushing now, and when she made the move to scramble, Lindsay fumbled with her hands, grabbing hold of her wrists and jerking, forcing the other woman to tumble down onto her, trapping her against her body.

Eyes suddenly serious, Cindy stared at her, chest heaving against hers. "You love me too," she stated matter-of-factly.

She was so damned certain about it. It was… really nice.

"Pretty much," she acknowledged, and let Cindy press a kiss against her mouth.

Buried into the other side of the couch, Martha whined and resettled herself.

They were home.

FIN

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