Before this place, Carver assumed he’d never be with another person again. Not like this, not with any kind of intimacy. A necessary sacrifice, he’d thought. He was part of the command structure and it would’ve twisted things if he’d allowed himself to want the way he knows some of the other Reapers did. And then things shifted, and he had to as well.

It’s a strange thought now, as Rosita touches his hair and they kiss slow, the kitten sleeping next to Carver on the couch. None of this was easy. But he will never, ever regret it.

He watches Rosita for a moment, smoothing his thumb along the line of her jaw. “I do,” he admits softly. “Want that.”