Riley sat in the patrol car, arms crossed, eyes staring out the window as the city whizzed by. Nearly a month after the whole 'almost getting crushed by a building' debacle, she was finally off the desk and back to riding with Maddox. She was thrilled to be back in the field after three weeks of desk duty, but less thrilled to be back in a confined space with Luke. The tension between them had been simmering all day, and she was over it. It was her first day back after being out with a concussion and a sprained wrist for two weeks, and the silence was unbearable, each passing moment only amplifying the friction between them.

"Are we going to talk about it or not?" Riley finally snapped, unable to take the quiet anymore.

Luke glanced at her, his jaw tightening. "Talk about what?"

"About you treating me like I'm made of glass because of Calloway," she said, her voice sharp. "I'm not him, Maddox. You don't have to coddle me every time something goes wrong."

His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. "This isn't about coddling, Torres. It's about you making reckless decisions. I'm not going to stand by while you get yourself killed."

Riley let out a frustrated breath. "I'm not going to get myself killed! I'm a cop, Luke. I can handle the job. Just because something happened with Calloway doesn't mean you need to treat me like I'm incapable of doing my job."

Luke's eyes flicked to her again, and she could see the fire burning behind them. "This isn't about Calloway—"

"Bullshit!" she cut him off. "It's always about him. You've been holding onto that ever since I got paired with you, and I'm done with it. You can't keep projecting his death onto me."

Luke slammed the brakes as they came to a stop at a red light, the force of it jerking them both forward in their seats. "You think this is easy?" His voice was low and dangerous. "You think it's easy to watch someone you're responsible for make the same mistakes that got someone killed? I'm trying to keep you alive, Torres."

"I don't need a babysitter, Luke." Riley's voice softened, but her words still hit hard. "I need a partner."

Before Luke could respond, the radio crackled to life.

"Unit 7, respond to a domestic disturbance at 139 Spruce Ave. Possible altercation."

Riley felt her stomach drop when she saw the address. She didn't need to look twice. It was her old house—her father's house. She hadn't been there in years, not since she had gotten out and started her new life, leaving the wreckage of her family behind.

Her throat tightened, but she didn't say anything. She stared out the window, her mind racing. What could she even say? That the address on the screen was the place where her father had spent years breaking them all down? That one of her brothers had died because they couldn't escape that cycle?

Luke noticed the tension in her silence. "You alright?"

She swallowed hard, nodding. "What, you don't recognize the address?" She spat.

He frowned but didn't push it, though his eyes lingered on her a second longer than usual.

When they pulled up to the house, it looked as rundown as it had when she was a kid. The paint was peeling, and the front yard was littered with empty beer cans and old furniture. Her hands clenched into fists at the sight of it—nothing had changed. The weight of the past hit her like a freight train, but she pushed it down.

They approached the door. No answer. Luke knocked again, louder this time.

"Police! Open up!" he called.

Still nothing.

Then came the crash—loud and unmistakable—from inside. Without hesitation, Luke stepped back and kicked the door in, splintering the weak wood around the lock. Riley flinched at the sound, knowing all too well what awaited them on the other side.

They entered, guns drawn, stepping into the dim, foul-smelling living room. Bottles and trash were strewn everywhere, the remnants of days—maybe weeks—of drinking and neglect. And there, slouched in an armchair, was her father, wasted as usual, barely registering their presence.

Her heart sank when she saw him. He looked even worse than she remembered—older, frailer, but the same mean glint in his eye. He didn't even move when they walked in, just glanced at them lazily.

But it was the yelling from the other room that sent a chill down Riley's spine. She heard her brother's voice—loud, angry, and volatile—yelling at someone else, a woman's voice, soft and pleading in response.

Luke shot her a look, clearly concerned. "Stay close," he ordered.

They moved toward the sound, stepping through the debris-littered hallway. Riley's pulse raced, dread settling in her chest as they entered the small, cramped kitchen.

Her brother, Mike, stood there, towering over a woman she didn't recognize, his face twisted in rage. The woman, his girlfriend probably, cowered against the counter, trying to shield herself from his rage.

Riley froze. She hadn't seen her brother in years. He looked rough—disheveled, angry, with the same temper their father had.

When he turned and saw Riley standing there in uniform, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Well, well, well. Look who it is. Little Miss Perfect, back from her high-and-mighty cop life to play hero."

Luke's eyes widened slightly as he glanced back and forth between Riley and her brother.

Riley's heart pounded in her chest. She took a breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "You need to calm down. Just let her go, okay?"

Mike sneered. "You think you can just walk in here and tell me what to do? After everything? You left. You don't belong here anymore, Riley."

"Let me handle this," she said quietly to Luke, her voice tense. "Just wait outside, please."

Luke didn't budge. "Not a chance."

Her brother laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Yeah, that's right. Let your boyfriend do the dirty work, just like always. You always needed someone else to clean up after you."

"Shut up," she snapped, stepping forward. "This isn't about me. This is about you stopping this before it gets worse."

"Worse?" he spat. "You made it worse. You left, Riley. You left us to rot in this hellhole. Just like Mom."

Riley felt her chest tighten at the mention of their mother, her throat thickening with a mix of anger and guilt. "I had to leave. You know that."

Her brother's lip curled. "You think you're better than us because you wear a badge now? You're nothing. Just a coward, like always."

Luke stepped forward, his voice cold. "That's enough. You either walk out of here now, or I'll take you out in cuffs."

Her brother bristled, staring Luke down. But when he saw that Luke wasn't going to back off, he finally threw his hands up. "Fine. I'm outta here. This place is a joke anyway." With that, he stormed out of the house, shoving past both of them.

"Torres," Luke said, but Riley avoided eye contact and instead focussed on the young woman sobbing at the kitchen table.

"Are you okay?" she said softly.

The woman looked up, eyes full of malice. "This is all your fault," she hissed. Her pupils were dilated and her eyes darted all over the place. Seemingly remembering that she was in the presence of two cops, she bolted out of her chair, and ran into the screen door with enough force that she went straight through it. Under different circumstances, Riley would have laughed. She stumbled down the back stairs and out into the night.

Riley pursed her lips, looking around her childhood kitchen. She glanced at Luke, whose face was a mixture of anger and pity. She hated that look.

"We should go," she said, walking past Luke back into the living room. She was determined to leave before the painful memories found their way back to her.

As Luke caught her arm, looking like he was going to say something, Riley's father stirred from his chair, watching with bleary eyes. Then, as if suddenly remembering who Riley was, he smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes.

"So, you came crawling back," he slurred. "Look at you. All grown up. But you're still the same scared little girl who couldn't save her brother."

Riley stiffened, the words hitting her like a punch to the gut.

"You think you're tough now, huh?" he continued, his voice filled with venom. "You weren't so tough when your mother left. Or when your brother got himself killed. You were useless then, and you're useless now."

Riley stood frozen, the words cutting deeper than she cared to admit. She'd spent years burying those memories, but hearing them again made the old wounds feel fresh.

Luke moved closer, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with barely-contained fury. "Watch your mouth."

Her father just laughed, the sound cold and heartless. "What are you gonna do, officer? Arrest me for telling the truth? You can't even touch me."

Riley watched as her father slowly stood up, wobbling on his feet, his bloodshot eyes zeroed in on her. He stumbled forward, raising a hand as if he were going to hit her. For a split second, she flinched, instinctively bracing for impact. But it never came.

Her father lowered his hand with a twisted smile. "Still afraid, huh? Just like always."

Luke moved before Riley could react, stepping between her and her father. His voice was low and dangerous. "You lay a finger on her, and I'll drag your ass to the station myself."

Her father chuckled, stumbling back into his chair. "Good luck with that, hero."

Riley's stomach churned with a mixture of fury and shame, but she forced herself to turn away. "Let's go," she said quietly to Luke. "He's not worth it."

Luke hesitated, still glaring at her father with barely-contained anger, but finally followed her out of the house. As they stepped back into the daylight, Riley sucked in a shaky breath, trying to shake off the weight of her father's words.

Luke stayed silent beside her, his face tense, but he didn't press her. He didn't need to. They both knew this was far from over.

__________________________________________________________

The drive back to the precinct was suffocatingly quiet. The engine hummed beneath them, the city lights flashing by as Riley stared out the window, her jaw clenched, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling. Luke didn't say a word, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual. His face was hard, unreadable, but Riley could feel the tension radiating off him.

She didn't blame him for being angry, but she wasn't ready to talk about it either. Not yet.

The precinct finally loomed ahead, and Luke pulled into the parking lot, switching off the engine. But neither of them moved to get out. Instead, they sat there, the quiet of the car heavy between them. The world outside seemed distant, almost unreal, as they both struggled with the weight of what had just happened.

Riley's stomach churned. It had been years since she had been back in that house, back in the toxic mess that had shaped her childhood. Seeing her father like that, hearing his words—it brought up feelings she had buried long ago. And then there was Luke. He had seen too much, heard too much. She didn't want to be pitied, didn't want to be seen as weak. She had worked too hard to leave all that behind.

Luke was the first to break the silence.

"You okay?"

His voice was low, cautious. He didn't look at her, still staring ahead at the dark parking lot, but the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Riley exhaled slowly, still staring out the window. "I'm fine."

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he said after a moment, his tone softening. "Pretend like everything's fine when it's not."

Riley clenched her fists in her lap. "I said I'm fine, Maddox. Just drop it."

The silence stretched again, thicker this time. She could feel his eyes on her now, studying her, but she didn't turn to meet his gaze.

"I didn't know that was your house," he finally said, voice quieter now. "If I had—"

"It doesn't matter," she cut him off, her voice sharper than she intended. She let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her face with her hands. "It's not your problem."

"It's not my problem?" Luke's voice tightened, and when she finally turned to look at him, she could see the tension in his jaw, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "That was your brother in there, Riley. Your father. You think I'm just going to pretend like none of that matters?"

Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she wanted to lash out, to yell at him for bringing it up, for pushing her to deal with something she had been running from for years. But she didn't. Instead, she slumped back in her seat, staring at the ceiling of the car.

"Don't act like you didn't already know about all of this. You knew as soon as you did that background check what kind of home I grew up in. You saw how many times I've broken my arm from 'falling down the stairs'. You already knew that neither of my older brothers finished high school- that they had to turn to crime to put food on the table before they were even adults. You said it made me a liability. You don't get to comfort me now because now you've had to stare that kind of life in the face, just to make yourself feel better."

Luke said nothing, but something akin to regret passed across his face like a shadow.

"They always find a way to drag me back," she muttered, her voice breaking slightly despite her best efforts. "No matter how far I try to get away from them... from him... it's like I can't escape."

Luke was quiet for a moment, watching her. Then he spoke, his voice gentler now. "You're not like them, Riley."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Aren't I? My dad's a drunk who blames me for everything, my brothers are a mess, my mom left when I was three, and look at me—I'm still flinching when he raises his hand like some scared kid."

"That's not weakness," Luke said firmly, turning to face her fully now. "That's survival. You went through hell in that house, Riley. You got out. You made something better of yourself."

She wanted to push him away. Wanted to tell him that caring wasn't enough, that it wouldn't change anything. She wanted to argue with him, to tell him that he didn't understand, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she just looked down at her hands, feeling a mix of anger and exhaustion wash over her.

"I don't need you to protect me," she whispered. "I've been doing it on my own for a long time."

She glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, she saw the sincerity in his eyes. It wasn't pity. It wasn't even sympathy. It was understanding. And somehow, that made it worse.

She let out a shaky breath, her defenses crumbling just a little. "I don't know how to let people in, Luke. So stay out."

Luke's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned back toward the windshield. The silence in the car felt different now—less heavy, more bearable.

"We should head inside," he said softly.

Riley nodded, but neither of them moved right away.