We didn’t get back to the
station right away. I took him home first, tossed him in the shower, tossed his
jeans in the wash, and tossed some clean clothes at him when he came out.
He was thoughtful, not saying
much, just watching me make myself busy cleaning us both up.
I wanted to tell him, “Two
out of three isn’t bad,” but I couldn’t. We saved Eddie, we
saved the girl…
But we promised Monty we’d
protect him, and we didn’t.
Ah, hell. If I’m feeling bad, he’s got to be feeling worse. Even
if he hides it better.
I know I should have told him
the truth about dinner. But I didn’t want him sitting alone all night,
thinking about the one we couldn’t save. After a screwed-up day like this
you want to be with your girl, and, well, he hasn’t got one right now.
Predictably, he bitches about
the food. I don’t mind.
I’m trying to sell him
on the benefits of a healthy diet. Hitting him where it counts; food and sex.
Then he says, “Just stay
where I can keep an eye on you.”
I thought it was the other way