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Chapter Text

In her safe house kitchen, Angell bit into a salty piece of tender chicken and dragged it off the skewer. She took her time chewing, savouring the taste of comfort.

The kebab skewers with marinated chunks of meat and an assortment of colourful vegetables, including cut up bell peppers and onions, were delicious for someone who had a muted sense of taste. How could she tell, then, that they tasted good? Well, they were made by the chief of MBCC. Even a simple fried egg would taste like a caring embrace if it was cooked by her.

‘How is it?’ Chief asked from her seat, opposite Angell, at the small dining table.

‘Good,’ Angell said, starting on a piece of red pepper next.

‘Slow down, the food’s not going anywhere,’ Chief said with a chuckle.

But you are, Angell thought.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Chief scooped some fried rice into her bowl. ‘Thinking about dessert?’

Thinking about you. ‘Is there any?’

‘I knew you’d have room in that bottomless stomach of yours even after dinner, so I made tiramisu.’ Chief looked amused. ‘I take your glittering eyes mean it’s a good choice?’ She brought a can of orange soda to her lips.

‘I’ve not had it in a long time.’

‘Don’t expect too much. It was my first time making it. I’m not sure how it’ll taste.’

‘It’ll be good,’ Angell said, then after a moment, ‘I always like the food you make.’

Chief smiled. ‘Thanks.’

They ate in comfortable silence for a minute until Chief spoke up. ‘Things have changed so much since we’ve met.’

‘In DisCity?’ Angell asked. She’d already eaten three skewers and was starting on a fourth. The fried rice was calling to her now. Maybe she’ll have some of that next.

‘No—well, yeah, that too. But I meant around here—your home.’

Angell didn’t like to refer to her place as home. A safe house, an apartment, yes. But home was different. Home was more. And Angell hadn’t felt that feeling of having a home ever since she’d lost her parents.

‘I’ve not changed anything around here,’ Angell said.

Most of the apartment was exactly how it had been after Angell returned Chief to the MBCC. The goldfish were gone, but they were in good hands. Chief took care of them. Nothing else had changed unless she meant the clutter… Things began reverting to how they had been before Chief was kidnapped, but it wasn’t bad. At least, Angell didn’t think it was. And Chief had cleaned up the space again when she’d arrived earlier today. So, what was different?

‘Remember when you didn’t have a single kitchen knife, and we had to cut the chicken with your sword?’ A smile split Chief’s face. ‘You have proper cooking utensils now. Ones that I didn’t have to buy myself.’

Anytime Chief came to visit, Angell would observe her closely and take mental notes. Chief had struggled with opening a can of blackcurrants using a knife, so the next day Angell bought a can opener. When Chief was stuck figuring out how to grate some orange zest without a grater, the said tool was brought to the apartment the next day and so on.

‘Is there anything else you want me to add?’ Angell asked.

‘Add?’

‘To this safe house,’ Angell said. ‘Anything that would make your time here easier.’ She wanted Chief to know that her presence was welcomed, that Angell liked it, and that she was willing to change what was in this apartment for Chief.

‘I think we’re good,’ Chief said, picking up one of the meat and veg skewers. ‘We have all the essentials. You even bought a hammer for me to crack coconuts with, then I realised I could just buy coconut water separately… Sorry about that. Wasted your money there.’

Angell had split that coconut in half with one clean stroke of her blade the day Chief brought it home. The bewildered look on her face made Angell realise that a hammer would be a good addition. Chief’s expression reminded Angell of when she’d handed her sword over for Chief to cut the chicken breast… Was her sword scary? If you thought about it, wasn’t it just a very long knife? Knives and swords did most of the same things, didn’t they?

‘If I had to sleep here, I’d have asked for a better pillow,’ Chief said. ‘Memory foam, maybe. I sleep so much better with those. But I don’t stay here anymore, so there’s no point. You don’t have to worry about me, Angell, but I appreciate you asking.’ Chief smiled, bit off a piece of meat, placed the skewer down, and wiped her hands on a paper towel as she chewed.

How do I tell her that I want her to stick around more? Angell wondered as she shovelled fried rice into her mouth. I miss the days when she used to sleep here.

With delicious food, easy conversation, and lovely company, they got through the rest of their meal. The tiramisu was the best that Angell had ever tasted. Now, Chief was ready leave. This was after she’d looked up several jobs for Angell on the dark web. Chief had some sort of dislike with the dangerous job postings, so she made sure these ones didn’t involve any assassinations and such. And who was Angell to say no to the person who made her soul feel so warm?

It'd taken Angell the better part of five months to recognise it was her heart that was being attracted to a particular warmth, but there was no reason in denying it once she’d figured it out.

‘It’s late,’ Angell said, standing by Chief who had just finished with using the computer. ‘You can stay the night if you want.’

‘I don’t really want to sleep on the couch… hurts my back a bit. And I have to return to MBCC for a meeting early tomorrow. I think I’ll just head back to HQ now and sleep in one of the spare rooms there.’

‘You can take my bed,’ Angell said.

Chief blinked. ‘I—no, no. I couldn’t.’

‘You can.’

‘I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.’

‘I don’t mind the couch.’

‘But I mind that you don’t mind that I—wait,’ Chief said, frowning. ‘Sorry, I’m tired. What I mean is that I can’t impose and make you sleep here.’

‘I probably won’t sleep anyway. It’s better if I stay awake and keep watch with you around.’

‘See, that’s even worse.’

Angell tilted her head. ‘Is it? But it’s safer.’

‘I can’t have you losing sleep for me, whether it’s from staying awake or from sleeping on the couch.’

‘Then I’ll escort you back to MBCC,’ Angell said.

‘It’s okay. I’m not as powerless as I look. I have a sidearm with me.’

‘Is that going to help much if several hitmen come after you? In the cover of darkness?’

‘Well…’

‘Are you planning to get kidnapped again?’

‘Wha—no, but…’ Chief frowned, seeming to calculate her risks.

‘We can take my motorcycle.’

‘I’m fi—’ A pause. ‘All right, thank you.’

Chief’s cheeks were a faint pink above her small smile. Perhaps she was embarrassed at needing protection to return to her workplace, or maybe she was frustrated at having realised a weapon wouldn’t do her much good around here.

None of that mattered, though. Angell would have made sure Chief got back safely even if she refused. Even if that meant tailing her and guarding her in silence without her knowing. But it pleased Angell that Chief agreed. It would be nice to have Chief’s arms wrapped around Angell’s waist as she drove and to be able to walk side by side.

They exited the apartment to make their way to the motorcycle in the cool night air, and Angel wondered if she’d ever manage to get her feelings across clearly. Why was expressing oneself so difficult? The last time she’d felt this way, this anxiety, was when she thought Chief was never going to see her again.

When Angell had voiced that she wanted to be bothered by Chief, not left alone, it had been difficult. But she’d managed to get her thoughts and feelings across, and Chief had understood her. Now, why couldn’t Angell do the same thing?

If only she could slash through this frustration with her sword. But no, this was something her blade couldn’t cut.

Chapter Text

Chief bent down towards the record player in her silent office. The colours always made her feel cold here. Angell’s home was the opposite. Everything was warm there. Maybe it was just a difference in lighting. Chief twisted the volume knob to the left, turning the jazz down as it was late.

Angell stopped in front of the goldfish tank that had been set up, on its own little table, next to the record player. ‘They look like they’re doing well,’ Angell said, watching the red and orange fish.

‘I found some top-quality feed from a pet store. They’ve been gobbling it up like…’ Chief chuckled. ‘Like you. Whenever I feed them, I think of you. Not just because you gave them to me, but because they eat so fast and so much. Like it’s always their last meal, even though I tell them that they can take their time, that there’s always more food for them.’ Chief wanted Angell to know as well. To know that she could relax, slow down.

Their eyes met, and they shared a moment of silence. Whether Angell picked up on the message, Chief wasn’t sure. Maybe making things obvious was always better, but humans tended to have the habit of not being direct. In a way, it could be beautiful, poetic even, to show meaning with nuance, metaphors, and confusing actions. But, really, it wasn’t efficient, was it?

‘Maybe the food is just too good,’ Angell said. ‘It makes it difficult to eat slowly.’

‘I’m worried that you’ll choke if you eat like that all the time.’

‘I don’t eat like that often.’

‘You don’t?’ This was news to Chief. She’d often seen Angell scarfing down food as if there was no tomorrow.

‘No, not usually.

Chief couldn’t sense that Angell was lying, so why was she eating so fast when they were together? She said when the food is good, it’s difficult to eat slowly, but Chief wasn’t a master chef. And that time when Chief was kidnapped by Angell, when Angell brought takeaway food home, hadn’t she mentioned not eating well? As in Chief’s food wasn’t very good, because Chief was cooking all their meals…

‘You mentioned that you have a dulled sense of taste,’ Chief said. ‘And that time we ordered pizza, you didn’t like the weird one where they put grapes on it, but you still ate it in record speed…’

‘Sometimes food is good because of the company,’ Angell said.

‘Me?’ Chief asked, almost cringing at how stupid she sounded.

Angell nodded. ‘Yeah, I like eating with you.’

Chief felt a flutter in her chest and smiled. ‘I’m a risk to your health, then. You have a higher chance of choking when you’re with me. Maybe we shouldn’t eat together so much.’

‘No, I’ll eat slower. I’ll be careful,’ Angell said, tone serious.

Angell, joking along? How cute, Chief thought.

‘I promise,’ Angell said.

Oh, she’s serious. Chief didn’t know how to respond. Angell seemed to care a lot about eating together. Could it be that spending time with Chief was of great importance to Angell? Maybe she likes me… Chief thought. Of course she likes me. We’re friends. Deep down, Chief was disappointed. She liked being with Angell, and Angell liked being with Chief, but did Angell like being with Chief as much as Chief liked being with Angell? I’m confusing myself. I really should get some shut eye…

‘I’m not good with words when it comes to…’ There was a miniscule change to Angell’s expression.

Chief could tell that something was troubling Angell, but what? She wouldn’t pry. Patience was a virtue and something that Angell deserved. If Angell wanted someone to listen, Chief would be here.

‘Sorry, it’s late. I shouldn’t keep you up any longer when you have a meeting later,’ Angell said, turning away. ‘I’ll head back.’

‘Hey.’ Chief was surprised at her own voice that came out too high and too loud. ‘Hey,’ she tried again. Better. ‘Are you hungry? We could get a midnight snack.’

#

The cafeteria, even with the lights turned on, was somewhat eerie at night. Chief never understood why MBCC settled on a miserable colour palette for everything. The jail cells, sure, but even the cafeteria for MBCC staff? Who was the architect? Why was everything so dark and grey in this entire building? Even Chief’s uniform was grey. It wasn’t that Chief wanted all the colours of the rainbow—though that would be pretty cool—but how about lightening things up a tad? This drabness was likely bad for mental health as well. I wonder if they’ll redecorate if I can bring a convincing enough argument that the current doom and gloom theme is depressing enough to affect work performance…

Passing by the rows of chairs and tables that had been wiped down at the end of the day, Chief guided Angell to the kitchen. It was locked like how the cafeteria doors had been. Chief let the access panel scan her hand, and moments later, she was rummaging through one of the large freezer rooms with Angell.

After reheating their food in the microwave, they sat down at the nearest table outside the kitchen, steaming bowls of red bean soup in front of them.

‘Didn’t think MBCC would have red bean soup,’ Angell said, tasting a spoonful of it.

‘It was hard to get it on the menu,’ Chief said, remembering how she had fought to get approval for it. ‘Management said it was too old fashioned, and that nobody would want to order it. The cooks agreed. Better to offer things like crème brûlée, cheesecake, and tofu pudding, but I argued that if they could serve black sesame soup twice a week, then they could serve red bean soup.’

Angell continued to eat, and if Chief didn’t know better, she’d have thought Angell wasn’t listening.

Chief pushed a piece of tangerine peel to the edge of her bowl with her spoon. ‘Then they said that nobody would eat such a thing when the weather was hot, so they could maybe serve it every now and then when it’s cold, like as if nobody eats it with ice. And you can freeze it to make ice lollies with, too. They just had something against red bean soup for some reason.’

Angell hummed. A third of her soup was already gone. ‘Yet we found these leftovers in the fridge.’

‘They added it to the menu last week after I got Nightingale to sort it out. I had a whole presentation prepared in case she failed.’ Chief tasted her soup. It was sweet.

‘I didn’t know you liked red bean soup so much,’ Angell said.

‘I don’t.’ Chief’s cheeks warmed, and she hoped that her blush wasn’t obvious. ‘But you do. And I’m never sure when you might visit. You’ve popped by before.’ She looked down at her bowl, the softened beans were barely round anymore. ‘Red bean soup always tastes a bit better on the second day, so I think we got lucky here.’

‘It tastes… good,’ Angell said. ‘But not as good as yours.’

Chief looked up to see Angell staring at her. ‘Maybe I should tell them to make it using my recipe.’

Angell shook her head. ‘No, I like your red bean soup. Red bean soup that you make. It reminds me of family somehow. Tastes better. It’s comforting.’

‘I’m sure there’s better red bean soup out there than what I make, Angell. But thank you for the praise. You don’t have to flatter me just for more food.’ Chief chuckled.

‘I’ve tried all the red bean soup in the area. Yours is the best.’

There was that stare again, and Chief found herself gulping under the intensity of Angell’s gaze. Those golden eyes were so beautiful that if Chief drowned in them, she’d say thank you. Would Angell be uncomfortable if she found out how much Chief liked her? Maybe Angell would slink off and never return.

‘So, I get the red bean soup award?’ Chief asked.

Angell nodded.

Chief would have teased her about how a powerful hitman could have a liking to homemade red bean soup cooked by the chief of MBCC—such a specific taste—but she could tell that Angell wanted to speak some more. There was something akin to fear or anxiety that could be detected from Angell’s expression and body language. A hitman, scared? Of what? Maybe Chief was mistaken. It was late after all.

‘I like…’ Angell’s gaze flicked away to the side. ‘I…’ Her eyes returned to Chief, then dropped downwards, settling on the sandy red soup clung to the sides of her bowl and spoon. ‘I like… your red bean soup.’

Chief smiled. ‘Okay, okay. I get it. I cook the best soup in the world.’

Angell’s brow twitched the slightest. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘I…’ She sighed. ‘Will you come over and cook me some red bean soup?’

‘That was almost like a confession,’ Chief said, laughing. But she would never assume such a thing. The higher your expectations, the bigger the disappointment, right?

Angell looked calm if a little frustrated. It would have been hard to decipher, but after knowing Angell for so long, Chief knew what to look for. The tiny raise of the brow, the slightly slower blink. But there was always one thing that Chief couldn’t figure out. Angell often had a strange look in her eyes when she looked Chief’s way. Just like right now. What was it? Are those pupils more dilated than usual? It was hard to tell.

‘I’ll come make you some of your favourite red bean soup,’ Chief said.

And Angell returned a small smile with that look still in her eyes.

Chapter Text

It was a week later when Angell was visited by Chief again at the safe house. They’d just finished eating a late evening meal of katsudon and stir-fried vegetables. Chief spent the time to learn how to make katsudon after Angell had mentioned it once. And although Chief was worried that the breaded deep-fried pork cutlet, though crunchy, would be too dry with how she made it, Angell thought it was fine. More than fine. It was good. So good that she’d had three bowls of rice with it. The meal was topped off with Angell’s favourite red bean soup, and now, Chief rested with her on the couch in the living room. Everything was good tonight. Perfect.

Full and content, Angell observed Chief, illuminated by the warm orange light of a lamp. If only I could figure out how to tell you how I feel…

‘A DisCoin for your thoughts?’ Chief asked. They’d grown close enough for Angell to share her musings. And Chief was never offended when Angell kept things to herself. She liked how Chief was always so inviting and open, never prying.

‘I’m… not sure,’ Angell said. ‘I’ll tell you when I figure it out.’

‘Okay, I’ll wait for you.’

But how long will you wait?

‘Has there been anything else you want me to try and cook?’ Chief asked. ‘I could add it to my list of recipes to research.’

‘Feng zhao.’

‘Chicken feet?’ Chief raised her brows.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve never made that before… let me look it up, and maybe practice a few times first.’

‘Okay.’

‘Hey,’ Chief said softly. ‘Angell…’ She looked hesitant. Maybe she didn’t want to bother with the chicken feet. That was fine. Chief didn’t have to cook anything she didn’t want to. She didn’t have to cook at all, and Angell would still feel the same towards her, even if it meant she couldn’t have her favourite red bean soup ever again… As long as Chief was here, it was enough.

Angell waited. She would be as patient as Chief had been with her.

‘Um…’ Chief sounded unsure. She was usually so confident, getting things done even when the odds weren’t in her favour. ‘Never mind,’ she said, shaking her head and looking a little sad.

Why? Why was Chief upset? Was someone troubling her? Did Angell have to do some cleaning up with her sword?

‘I’m surprised that you don’t get bored of red bean soup,’ Chief said.

‘I could eat it every day, every meal, for the rest of my life.’ Was that good enough? It felt like it was.

‘You love it that much, huh?’

‘Only if you’re the one who makes it.’ Even better. Even clearer.

‘You really are unexpectedly good at flattering the cook.’ Chief chuckled, a hint of pink spreading on her cheeks. ‘But you won’t get the necessary nutrients if all you eat is red bean soup. You have to eat a balanced diet, okay? Well, not that I do a very good job of that myself…’

Angell sighed. I don’t know how to make her understand. How does someone even convey this strange warmth that grows in their chest, spreads through their being, and envelopes their soul? Maybe she should have looked up a word for it online. She could have made a job posting on the dark web, seeking for the best way to let a person know of their importance.

It was only recently that Angell had thought about how Chief made her feel on a deeper level. Ever since Angell lost her family, Chief was the first person to make Angell feel like she had something to cherish, something to care for, something to protect. Something important enough that she would lay down her life for if necessary. And it was scary, but that type of fear could be managed. What was more terrifying was the possibility that Chief would never know. It would be so much easier for Angell to tear her heart out and show it to Chief. If only that would work. But no, that was stupid, and there would be a mess to clean up.

Chief, never knowing what was deep in Angell’s soul… Angell didn’t want that regret to follow her to the grave.

‘Stiff?’ Chief asked, seeing Angell rub at her shoulder.

‘A little. I’ve been busy lately, so my muscles ache.’

Getting up, Chief circled around to the back of the couch. ‘Take your jacket off and face the front. I’ll give you a massage.’

Chief’s hands were strong for someone who didn’t wield a blade. The shackles were her weapon. How fortunate that such a powerful tool landed in the right hands. The pressure that Chief put into squeezing and massaging Angell’s tired muscles had her sighing. She could feel the upper part of her trapezius relaxing from where Chief’s thumbs pressed into them. Just when the tension began to leave Angell’s body, Chief stopped her ministrations.

‘Hey, why don’t you lay down, so I can massage you better?’ Chief said. ‘Your muscles are so tight. You probably have knots everywhere.’

#

They relocated to the bedroom. Topless, Angell laid face down on her king-sized bed. A pillow was stuffed under her chest and head. Chief sat next to her on the unoccupied side of the mattress. The room had been in disarray (apparently), but Chief had picked up some of the clothes on the floor and folded the duvet aside so that it wasn’t its usual mess of a mountain (what Chief called it).

‘Good thing we have so many types of oil from my cooking ventures,’ Chief said. ‘And just our luck that we bought those essential oils for the diffuser several months ago, huh?’

Chief had had a quick look online to find out how to make her own massage oil and had proceeded to dig out different bottles around the apartment to combine them and craft her own. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it would work.

‘I’ll start with your upper back and shoulders, work my way down, then do your arms,’ Chief said. ‘I’m not a professional, so I’ll go gently. Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop right away, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Angell said. The cool sheets pressing to her front made her consider taking a nap.

Moments passed, and when Angell didn’t feel hands on her, she looked over her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I-I uh,’ Chief grew redder by the second. ‘I just realised how intimate this is… um…’

‘We don’t have to do this if it’s—’

‘No, I offered,’ Chief said. ‘And I want you to feel good.’ She inhaled sharply ‘That sounded… I—you just relax while I give you a good rub—fuck, I didn’t—I mean—oh my God.’ She screwed her eyes shut and cringed. ‘I’m so sorry that everything I say is coming out inappropriate.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Angell smiled into her pillow. She wasn’t one who smiled much or often, but Chief had that effect on her. Chief could fish smiles up from the deep sea.

‘D-don’t watch me,’ Chief said. ‘You’ll get a stiff neck.’

Angell let her head drop onto the pillow. She heard Chief gulp and then felt loving hands on her skin, oiling it with a gentle pressure. The floral scent of ylang-ylang filled the room. Angell was glad that Chief didn’t choose lavender as it always tickled her nose a little. Ylang-ylang was fine. Great, even. Perfect.

The tautness of Angell’s muscles began to fade as Chief kneaded her upper back, and Angell found her eyes drifting shut. With her eyes closed, her other senses were heightened. She could focus on just enjoying the touch of Chief’s hands working wonders on her body.

‘You have so many scars,’ Chief said quietly.

Angell hummed. ‘I’m sure you do, too.’

‘Not as many as you, I think.’

‘Good.’

For several minutes, Chief concentrated on her work, and Angell enjoyed this rare event in her life. For many years now, Angell had moved from place to place. She’d never grown attached to any location or person—until Chief. It was a strange feeling, happiness.

‘Heat and cold might help you,’ Chief said. ‘Alternating it can be good for blood flow. To relieve soreness and such.’

‘I already take cold showers,’ Angell said.

‘Try a warm one, then. Or start warm, then switch it to cold near the end.’

Chief worked out the muscle knots and moved her hands down to Angell’s waist, causing her to sigh in pleasure. It’d been so long since Angell had felt so peaceful. Maybe she’d been stressed all this time and had never noticed that how she usually felt wasn’t normal. Loosened up, this was much better.

‘You know,’ Chief said, amused. ‘I just realised how we’re kind of acting like girlfriends, or even a married couple, and here I am giving my tired wife a massage after a long day of hard work.

Angell hummed in reply. She felt wonderfully light. Wives… she thought. That would be nice…

‘Hey, remember that time I sought you out?’ Chief said, kneading circles with her thumbs. ‘When you disappeared after you kidnapped, then returned me.’

Angell hummed again.

‘We had that little outing during my break. We sold veggies, watched a movie, then you grabbed my wrist at the end of the day, and said you didn’t want me to stop bothering you.’ Chief chuckled at the memory, and Angell found her lips curving upwards again. She’d done well back then, being able to convey her feelings.

‘I thought it was a love confession for a moment,’ Chief said. ‘Like from a romantic movie.’

‘What if it was?’ Angell said. The pillow muffled her words.

‘What?’

Angell made sure the pillow didn’t obstruct her this time. ‘I said, what if it was? A confession.’

Chief stilled. Angell could still feel Chief’s warm hands on her skin.

‘I’ll take better care of things around the house if you want,’ Angell said, not daring to turn around just yet. ‘The memory foam pillow on your side of the bed is new. I’ve aired it out already. And I’ve made space in the wardrobe so that you can use half of it.’

Silence.

Chief pulled her hands away from Angell, and the seconds ticked by. When no reply came, Angell sat up to face Chief.

As soon as the bed creaked, Chief averted her gaze from Angell’s topless form and made to shuffle off the bed. ‘Your robe—’

Angell’s hand darted out, closing around Chief’s wrist again. It was almost like a re-enactment of the time that Chief mentioned earlier. ‘Stay,’ Angell said. ‘Will you… stay? With me?’

Their eyes met, but Chief looked ready to tear them away any second. ‘I’m already with you, aren’t I? Or do you mean you want me to stay over? Is that why you bought a pillow for me? You’re pretty cute, wanting a sleepover.’ She gave an awkward chuckle.

Angell could have said yes, or she could have said nothing. Instead, she took a deep breath and gathered herself. She needed Chief to understand her. Just like that time from before. Angell leaned closer to the woman she wanted, closer to her source of warmth. ‘Will you… can you be my sunlight? Shine on me forever.’ Did that make sense? She could do better. ‘Can you be mine?’

Chief’s eyes widened.

Angell flicked her gaze to Chief’s lips, asking. Slowly, with eyes hooded, Angell leaned in, and Chief met her halfway, pressing their lips together.

Finally, Angell thought. Finally, she got herself across. They broke apart, panting, not because the kiss had been long, but because their hearts and bodies had been patient long enough.

Feeling like she was about to burst from the heat growing within, Angell placed a hand on Chief’s shoulder, the other cupped Chief’s face, skin as hot as Angell’s.

Angell needed her. She needed Chief. Chief who made her blood rush and her heart pulse with need. Chief who was warm and bright like sunlight. Chief, who tasted sweeter and more comforting than red bean soup.

Angell wasn’t good with words, but actions—actions she could do. With her heart beating fast and wild, Angell pushed Chief down onto the bed and kissed her again.

This was it.

This was her home.

Chief was Angell’s home.