Grip My Heart Like My Headboard

Chapter 2

Monday arrives with a sluggish dread, the weekend spent berating myself for my insensitivity. My words to JJ replayed in an endless loop, each memory another reminder of how I've tangled myself in this mess of emotions I can't fully grasp. It's not her fault I can't make sense of what I feel for her, yet here I am, tugging her closer only to push her away.

I step into my closet, methodically choosing an outfit—a pair of black slacks and a plum button-up that adds a subtle warmth to my otherwise business like demeanor. I get dressed with care, deciding to stop at Starbucks on my way in, the thought of bringing her coffee a small gesture toward an apology. I time it carefully, imagining her usual routine: dropping the boys at school before making her way into the office. I want the coffee to be fresh and warm when she gets in, not a lukewarm attempt at remorse.

I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down my shirt, my gray hair softly curled at the ends. I keep my makeup minimal, just enough to feel put together, hoping it lends me some confidence. My purse, badge, and briefcase are lined up by the door, waiting. With a final breath, I grab them and head out, determined to start this day on a better note, hoping somehow I can make up for the weight of my own mistakes.

I make it to Starbucks faster than expected, pulling in behind the long line of early risers at 6:30 a.m. The wait drags longer than I'd hoped, and impatience bubbles up as I rattle off our orders at the intercom, JJ's favorite drink and my usual. Finally, when I'm almost ready to pull my hair out, I reach the window. The young barista is there, as she always is, and I brace myself. Her green eyes light up, her smile growing just a little too wide, and the blush on her cheeks deepens as she catches my eye.

I give her a practiced smile—the same one I use with colleagues I don't care for, the one I reserve for suspects I know are about to feed me a lie. It's professional, polished, detached. But, like clockwork, she interprets it as an invitation, a spark of something more. She leans in, handing me the coffee holder, her fingers brushing mine as she lingers a second too long.

"So...do you just come here to see me?" She teases, eyes bright with expectation.

I chuckle politely, brushing it off as coincidence, feeling an inward sigh welling up. She gives a flirtatious wink, hoping I'll be back soon. I murmur a "thanks" and drive off, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. I can't help but wonder if I have a flashing sign on my forehead that reads "available to younger generations," or if this is just some cosmic joke.

I finally pull into my designated spot at the BAU, and for a moment, I stay in the car, staring blankly at the steering wheel. My mind races with possible outcomes, dissecting each one as though it's a case I need to solve. Has JJ had enough time to calm down, or will seeing me only make things worse? Will she approach me with softened eyes or colder ones, and will I be the one who ruins her mood for the entire day? I groan, feeling the ridiculous knot of emotions she manages to stir up in me. How does one person make me unravel this easily?

With a resigned sigh, I gather everything I've brought along—coffees carefully balanced and bags dangling from my fingers—and step out of the car. I head toward the building, going through the usual security routine, badge scanning and all, even though I'm the one who signs off on it. The irony doesn't escape me. I enter the office, my nerves mounting, and catch sight of Tara at her desk, casually scrolling through her phone. Her calm presence is grounding, a stark contrast to the storm I'm bracing for. Taking a breath, I steel myself, knowing the hardest part of this day hasn't even begun.

"Aw, you brought me coffee—you shouldn't have," Tara teases, her voice lilting with amusement.

"You wish, Lewis," I say, forcing a laugh as I gently place one of the coffees on JJ's desk, nudging it just so, as if the exact positioning of the cup might somehow chase away my nerves.