Jaine's sister lived in a big, two-story Colonial in St. Clair Shores. The doors were down on the triple-bay garage, but Sam Donovan's red muscle-truck was parked in the driveway. He parked beside it and went up the curving walk to the double front doors, where he rang the bell and waited.
Donovan answered the door. Galan noticed Sam was still wearing his pistol. If he had one, he thought, he would probably wear it too, legal or not.
"How are they?" he asked softly, stepping inside. "Tired. Still in shock. Shelley said they slept off and on all day, so I guess they didn't get much sleep last night." Galan shook his head. "They sat up talking most of the night. Funny; they didn't talk much about the bastard who did this, or how close Jaine came the other night when he broke into her house. They just talked about Luna and Marci."
"It's like losing two family members so close together. It'll take them a while to recover from this." Sam dealt with grief on a regular basis; he knew Jaine would recover, because that kick-ass spirit of hers just wouldn't stay down, but he also knew it could take weeks, maybe even months, before the shadow of pain left her eyes. In part of the house, things were normal. Shelley's husband, Al, watched television. Their teenage daughter, Stefanie, was upstairs on the phone, while eleven-year-old Nicholas played video games on the computer. The women had gathered in the kitchen – why was it always the kitchen? – to talk and drink diet sodas and eat whatever comfort food Shelley had on hand.
The ravages of grief had left both Jaine and T.J. pale, but they were dry-eyed. T.J. looked startled to see her husband.
"What are you doing here?" She didn't sound particularly glad to see him.
"I wanted to be with you," he replied. "I know you're tired, so I didn't want you to have to wait until midnight to go home. Not to mention Shelley and her family probably go to bed a lot earlier than that."
Shelley waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that. We usually stay up late while the kids are out of school."
"What about the reporters?" T.J. asked. "We won't have any peace if they're still swarming the place."
"I doubt they would hang around forever," Sam said. "They'd like an interview, yeah, but they can get statements from other people. More than likely, since you weren't at home today, they'll call instead of camping out in your yard."
"Then I would like to go home," T.J. said, standing. She hugged Shelley. "Thanks a million. You were a lifesaver today."
Shelley returned the hug. "Any time. Come back tomorrow, if you don't go to work. Whatever you do, don't stay home alone!"
"Thanks. I may take you up on it, but… I think I'll go to work tomorrow. Getting back into the routine will help take my mind off things."
Jaine said, "I think Sam and I will go home, too. He looks as exhausted as I feel."
"Are you going to work tomorrow?" T.J. asked. "I don't know. Maybe. I'll call and let you know." "Trilby," T.J. called, and the dog jumped up, bright eyes sparkling and her entire body wagging in enthusiasm. "C'mon, girl, let's go home."
Trilby barked and scampered around T.J.'s legs. Galan leaned down to pet her, and she licked his hand. "Where's your leash?" he asked, and she dashed off to find it. Usually the dog's antics could make T.J. laugh, but tonight she couldn't manage even a smile.
On the drive home, T.J. sat staring out the window. "You didn't have to leave work early," she said. "I'm fine."
"I wanted to be with you," he repeated, and drew a deep breath. He would prefer to have this talk once they were home, where he could put his arms around her, but maybe now was the best time. At least she couldn't walk away. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
She didn't glance at him. "For what?"
"For being an asshole; for being a stupid asshole. I love you more than anything or anyone else on earth, and I can't stand the thought of losing you."
"What about your girlfriend?" She made the word sound so immature, as if he were a horny teenager who couldn't see past the moment.
He winced. "I know you don't believe me, but I swear I haven't been that stupid."
"Exactly how stupid have you been?"
She had never let him get away with anything, he remembered. Even in high school, T.J. would pin him to the wall if he tried to evade telling her whatever she wanted to know.
Keeping his eyes on the road, because he was afraid to look at her, he said, "Flirting stupid. And kissing stupid. But no more than that. Not ever."
"Not even groping?" Her tone said she didn't believe him. "Not ever," he repeated firmly. "I… Damn it, T.J. it didn't feel right, and I don't mean anything physical. She wasn't you. I don't know; maybe I let my ego get the best of me, because I kind of liked the thrill, but it was wrong and I knew it."
"Who exactly is 'she'?" T.J. asked.
Saying her name took every ounce of courage he had, because putting an actual name to the woman personalized it, made it real. "Xandrea Conaway."
"Have I met her?"
Galan shook his head, then realized she still wasn't looking at him. "No, I don't think so."
"Xandrea," she repeated. "She sounds like a mixed drink." He knew better than to say anything the least bit nice about Xandrea. Instead he said, "I do love you. Yesterday when you found out about Luna and I realized – " His voice cracked. He had to swallow before he could continue. "When I realized you're in danger, it was like a slap in the face."