Page 24 of Taken from Her
5
The alarm never came.
Diana woke to gentle movement beneath her—the houseboat's rhythm she'd never experienced from bed, water lapping against the hull like a lullaby. Morning light filtered through portholes, casting moving patterns across a ceiling that wasn't hers, salt air drifting through cracked windows.
Saffron stretched across both women's ankles while Basil claimed the space between Diana's shoulder and the wall, his purr vibrating through her ribs. Everything felt foreign yet deeply right, even though she hadn't woken up with someone in nearly five years.
Lavender lay beside her, silvery hair spilled across the pillow, face relaxed in sleep. Diana found herself studying details she'd missed during their passion's urgency: the small scar above Lavender's left eyebrow, how her fingers curled against the mattress as if trying to hold on to her dreams.
Her analytical mind tried to categorize what had happened. Stress relief? Crisis attraction? But her body's contentmentargued with rationalization, and she realized she didn't want to reduce last night to simple physical need.
This felt like something that mattered.
Her phone buzzed—two texts from dispatch and Detective Rivers. The real world intruding on her sanctuary.
Diana extracted herself from bed quietly, moving to the galley kitchen where everything was compact but thoughtful: herbs in window boxes and handmade mugs reflecting the morning light. She made coffee with careful attention, the domestic act feeling surprisingly natural.
"You're up early," Lavender's voice came from the doorway, soft and sleep-roughened.
Diana turned, noting the oversized sweater that fell past Lavender's thighs, her hair tousled. "Force of habit."
"Sleep okay?" Lavender moved into the galley with easy grace.
"Better than I have in years." The honesty surprised Diana.
They prepared breakfast together in the compact space, movements gradually synchronizing. Lavender added vanilla to Diana's coffee while Diana buttered toast, marveling at how natural it felt.
"This is nice," Diana admitted, gesturing at the easy domesticity around them. "I don't usually linger. Morning is usually coffee and case files, then get to the station before anyone else."
"And today?"
"Today I'm wondering why I've spent so many mornings alone."
Diana's phone buzzed—Detective Julia Scott calling. Reality reasserted itself as Diana answered, her posture straightening automatically.
"Chief, sorry to call early. Morgan's found patterns in the analysis, and we've got three new tipline calls about coastal trail activity."
Through the phone, Diana heard the station coming to life. Her other world, pulling her back.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes."
"Actually, Chief? Last night's meeting worked. We're getting real cooperation now. People are calling us instead of just talking amongst themselves."
Diana glanced at Lavender, who quietly cleaned dishes while pretending not to listen. "Good. That's progress."
When she hung up, the spell of morning peace had broken.
"You need to go," Lavender said.
"I do." Diana stood, immediately missing the warmth. "Last night?—"
"Was wonderful. And complicated." Lavender moved closer. "But that doesn't make it wrong."
"I don't know how to balance this with everything else."
"Then we figure it out as we go. Just...possibility."
Diana felt something tight in her chest loosen. "Possibility."
