Chapter Thirteen #2
The water started to run cold, so they moved quickly to finish rinsing off. Sam shivered as she stepped into the towel Nick held for her.
“How mad is Brant?” she asked.
“He’s pretty pissed.”
“We don’t make it easy for him to do his job.”
“We still have to live our lives while trapped in the gilded cage.”
“Did I do the right thing bringing the kids home?”
“It felt like the right thing to you, and I’ve learned to trust that gut of yours.”
“I didn’t even think about it. I just acted.”
“The way a mother would, no?”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. “I guess so.”
“You’re a mom now, Sam. You did what any mom would do when you saw kids in need—you stepped up. I’m proud of you for doing that.”
“Even if it complicated things for you?”
“Eh,” he said with a shrug. “What’s a few more complications?”
“A major headache.”
“For Brant, not me.” He grinned as he followed her into bed. “Come here and warm me up.”
Sam snuggled up to him.
“Close your eyes and get some rest, babe.”
“Will you sleep?” she asked, always concerned about his insomnia.
“I hope so. I’m tired.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too. More than anything.”
That was all she needed to hear to relax—for now anyway. She still had the specter of three weeks without him hanging heavily over her, but she could fret about that tomorrow. Tonight, he was here, and he loved her. That was enough for now.
Tears cascaded down Christina’s cheeks for an hour after Tommy walked away. She’d done it. She’d said the words.
We are done.
It is over.
This, our family, is finished.
Only a couple of years ago, she’d been working as John O’Connor’s deputy chief of staff, under the misguided illusion that she stood a chance of being the one to save John from himself.
But John had been murdered before she’d ever gotten the chance to tell him how she felt about him.
She’d thought she’d been heartbroken then.
That had nothing on this. Losing Tommy, a little at a time over the last nine months, had been excruciating.
Watching him become someone she barely recognized had been almost worse than losing John to murder, and that was saying something.
She’d still been reeling when she met Tommy shortly after John’s murder. Tommy had attended the New Year’s Eve party Sam and Nick had thrown to celebrate her promotion to lieutenant and his swearing in to take John’s place in the Senate. So much had happened since that night.
They’d fallen madly in love, found out he had a son, he’d gotten shot in the neck and was nearly killed.
There’d been a lot of strain on their new relationship, but each challenge had only brought them closer together and made them stronger as a couple.
They’d been making plans to get married, to try for that new baby and move to a bigger apartment.
Then Arnold was killed, and everything stopped.
Their plans and hopes and dreams had given way to grief so deep and so pervasive it’d wiped out everything that stood in its path.
For the first time, Tommy had turned away from her rather than toward her.
She couldn’t compete with his grief. She couldn’t help him—and God knows she’d tried.
She’d tried everything she could think of to help him, to find him some relief, to ease his tortured mind.
But nothing had worked, and now here they were at the end of their road.
Insanity was defined as continuing to do the same thing over and over and expecting different results. She couldn’t keep doing this. She brushed away more tears, her chest aching and her eyes raw.
One of the nurses who’d been nice to her earlier came in, saw her crying and offered a box of tissues.
Christina gratefully took a couple and used them to mop up the flood on her face.
“Can I get you anything?” the nurse asked.
Christina shook her head.
The nurse glanced over her shoulder, and then came closer, keeping her voice down when she said, “I’m not supposed to say anything, but the man you were talking to before?”
“What about him?”
“He had some sort of episode in the waiting room. I don’t know anything else, but they’re admitting him.”
“Can you find out what’s wrong with him?”
She shook her head. “I’ve already said too much.”
“T-thank you.” Long after the nurse left the room, Christina thought about what she should do with this new information.
She pondered the possibility of calling one of Tommy’s sisters or his parents to come help, but dismissed that, knowing that was the last thing he’d want her to do. She called Sam.
“Hmmm, Holland,” she said.
“Sam, it’s Christina. I’m sorry to wake you, but Tommy has been admitted to GW.”
“How come?”
“They won’t tell me, and we’re… Well, we’re not together anymore.” She closed her eyes tight against the rush of new tears but that couldn’t contain them. “I need to focus on Alex. I can’t take care of Tommy, too.”
“I can’t come there myself right now, but I’ll send Carlucci and Dominguez over,” she said, referring to the squad’s third-shift detectives.
“Whatever. I wanted someone to know where he is.”
“Christina—”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not now.”
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Sam.” Christina had done what she could by notifying his boss. The rest was out of her hands. The only thing she cared about now was nursing Alex back to health and then figuring out the rest of her life—a life that no longer included Tommy Gonzales.