by Marie Force
“Tommy.” Christina’s soft voice jarred him. He hadn’t seen her coming. His reflexes weren’t what they used to be if she could sneak up on him in the dark.
“What?”
“Are you coming to bed?”
“No.” It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault. He told himself that a thousand times a day as she hovered over him, her care and concern wearing on his already-frazzled nerves. It was hard to believe that only a few short weeks ago, they’d been talking about making time to get married. And now he wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He wished everyone would just leave him the hell alone. But they didn’t. In addition to Christina, he had his family and colleagues around his neck too.
If Cruz called him one more time to “check in” he was going to tell him to fuck off. What did they want from him anyway?
“Will you please come to bed? You need to sleep.”
“No, I don’t need to sleep.” Sleep brought nightmares, and the last fucking thing he wanted was to relive it—again. “I need to be alone.” On the outer edges of his mind, in the place where the man he used to be lived, he knew he was making an extraordinary mess of the most precious relationship in his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Christina knelt on the floor in front of him, her hands flat against his thighs. There’d been a time, not that long ago, when that would’ve been enough to fire him up. Now he felt nothing for her or his son or his family or his friends. He felt absolutely nothing but pain.
“You’re scaring me, Tommy. You can’t go on this way. You need help. You have to let us help you.”
“I don’t have to do anything. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t possibly know what you went through that night, but the Tommy I know and love—”
“Is dead. That guy died on a sidewalk right along with his partner. So if you don’t like the new and improved Tommy, maybe you should cut your losses and get out.”
Her face went slack with shock, tears flooding her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Tommy...”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We had a good thing, but it’s over now.”
“You... Alex...”
“Take him. Take him and just go. Leave me alone.”
“I’m not leaving you, Tommy,” she said as sobs shook her petite body.
Once upon a time, her tears would’ve moved him. “Then I’ll go.”
“No. You’re not going, and neither am I. We’re a family, and if you won’t fight for our family then I will.”
“Knock yourself out.” He reached for the bottle.
She grabbed it from his hand, and it went flying, smashing into the glass coffee table and shattering it.
The sight of her surrounded by shards of glass cleared the fog in his brain, making way for a moment of clarity. “Don’t move.”
As tears continued to rain down her face, she whimpered.
Standing, he reached for her and lifted her up and off the floor.
Christina wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her legs around his hips. She trembled violently, her tears wetting his face.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” His heart beat fast and hard as fear sliced through the numbness.
“Please don’t let me go, Tommy.” Her chest heaved from the strength of her sobs. “I’d never survive it.”
He tightened his hold on her, blinking rapidly to stop tears that suddenly couldn’t be contained. His chest ached as the dam broke, flooding him with a barrage of emotions he was unequipped to handle. Fear and grief and love and despair... All of it poured forth as Christina clung to him. He’d never cried like this before. Not when his grandparents died or when he found out he had a son he didn’t know about or when Arnold was killed right in front of him.
Something about the sight of Christina surrounded by broken glass had done what nothing else could. It had broken him. Leaning against a wall, he slid down, taking her with him, until they were on the floor. She never let go, holding him through the storm the way she had from the beginning.
He had no idea how long they were there before he found his voice. “I... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean—”
Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed him and wiped away his tears. “We need help, Tommy. We can’t do this alone. Please. Before we lose us...”
He hesitated but only for a second. “Okay.”
* * *
SAM SHOT OUT of bed, going from asleep to running in the blink of an eye when she heard Scotty cry out. Fearing another vomit-astrophe, she steeled herself as she turned the corner in his room and found him sitting up in bed, weeping.
“Buddy, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”
She’d never seen him cry like this, as if his heart were breaking. Sam sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. The heat from his body radiated through the thin T-shirt he wore, but he didn’t feel quite as hot as he had during the night.
“I still feel awful,” he said between sobs. “I can’t go to the party.”
“I’m so sorry, and so is Dad. We know how disappointed you are.” And she knew that under normal circumstances, Scotty would never cry over such a thing. “But Dad said last night—and it’s true—there’ll be lots and lots of chances to have fun with your friends and lots of other parties.”
“I wanted to go to this one.”
“I know.” Desperate to find a way to comfort him, she settled him back on his pillow. “How about we have our own little party right here? We’ll watch whatever movie you want and play video games.”
His shoulders lifted ever so slightly.
She was no substitute for his friends, but she’d do whatever she could to fill the void. “You want to get up and try to eat something?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Not yet.”
“Let me know when you’re ready.” She tucked him in and kissed his forehead.
“Thanks,” he said, “for taking care of me and stuff.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Sure,” he said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Cleaning up puke is a pleasure.”
“Being your mom is a pleasure. The good, the bad and the ugly. I love it all.”
“Something’s wrong with you if you like the ugly.”
“I hear that every day.” She left him with a smile and went back to her room, crawling in bed next to Nick, who hadn’t stirred. When she placed a hand on his back, the heat of his body alarmed her. She felt his forehead and launched out of bed to find the thermometer Harry had left for her. Running it over his forehead, she gasped when it registered at 104.5. Dear God!
“Nick.” She shook his shoulder. “Babe, wake up. You’ve got to take something for the fever.” Kissing his cheek, she said, “Nick, wake up.” He didn’t respond, even when she shook him vigorously.
Frantic, Sam grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called Harry. “Nick is at 104.5, and he won’t wake up,” she said the second Harry answered.
“Call 911. Right now. I’ll meet you at GW.”
“I can’t leave Scotty with only his detail!”
“Call Tracy to stay with him.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. Harry—”
“Make the call, Sam.”
Her hands shook as she called 911 and requested an ambulance. In the hallway, she said to Darcy, “I called rescue for Nick. He’s unresponsive.”
“Oh my God! I’ll let them know downstairs.”
After nearly dropping the phone in her haste, Sam found Tracy’s number and willed her sister to answer the phone. “Trace! I need you to come over here. Hurry. Nick and Scotty are sick, and I have to take N
ick to GW—”
“What? Okay, I’m coming. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You have to stay with Scotty.” Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t wake him up, Trace. Nick. He won’t wake up.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Sam went to Nick and shook him again, looking for something, anything. “Please,” she whispered. “Wake up.”
But like before, he didn’t move.
She laid her hand on his chest where the strong beat of his heart was the best thing she’d ever felt. Then she noted the rise and fall of his breathing. Those were good signs, weren’t they?
It seemed to take hours for the paramedics to arrive when it was probably only minutes. Everything moved very quickly. They had him on an IV and strapped to a gurney in a matter of seconds and were whisking him out of the house, escorted by the Secret Service.
Sam was torn in two very distinct directions—go with Nick or stay with Scotty until Tracy arrived. She looked in on Scotty, who’d gone back to sleep. The fact that he was sleeping through this cemented her decision.
“My sister Tracy is coming to stay with him,” Sam said to Darcy. “If he wakes up before she gets here, tell him I took his dad to see Harry. Don’t say anything about ambulances or paramedics.”
“Of course. I hope the vice president is okay.”
“So do I.”
Sam ran out of the house without a coat and bolted down the ramp to the back of the ambulance. The sight of Nick, unmoving and strapped to a gurney, his face ghostly pale, made Sam stagger under the weight of her fear. Thankfully, Brant took hold of her arm and helped her into the ambulance before she tripped and fell.
“Why won’t he wake up?” she asked the paramedics when they were on their way to GW.
“We think he’s severely dehydrated. We’re pumping fluid into him, which ought to help.”
Dehydrated. She could work with that.
“But he’s going to be okay, right?”
“He should be.”
Sam clung to those three little words on the rapid trip to the hospital, where he was taken straight into an exam room. One of the nurses put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and guided her out of the room. “Let me find a place for you to wait where you won’t be bothered, Mrs. Cappuano.”
“I want to be with him.”
“Give us a chance to get him stable, and we’ll get you right in with him.”
“He’s not stable now?”
“We’re still assessing his condition. It’ll be a few minutes.”
Harry came rushing in, and Sam had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
“They’re telling me I can’t stay with him.”
“I’ll get you in there as soon as I can.” He gave her a quick hug. “Go with Nancy. She’ll get you settled somewhere to wait.”
“Harry, please... Please.”
“He’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Those were, without any doubt, among the best words she’d ever heard. While Brant and another member of Nick’s detail stood watch outside the exam room, Sam let Nancy lead her to a private waiting room. She wanted to ask why the agents could stay but she couldn’t, but she already knew the answer to that.
“Is there someone you could call to come sit with you?” Nancy asked.
The only person Sam wanted was Nick. “I, um, I could call my sister.”
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
Angela would freak out if she got a call from a nurse at the GW Emergency Room. “Thank you, but I’ll do it.”
“Is there anything I can get you? Water, coffee?”
“A stiff drink?” Sam said with a small smile.
“Wish that was on the menu.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Please let me know the second you hear anything.”
“We will. I just want to say... All of us here, we think you and the vice president make for a beautiful couple, and we admire you both so much.”
Sam blinked rapidly, overcome with emotion. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
“He’s young and strong and healthy. Have faith in all those things.”
Sam nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Nancy left her alone, and Sam took a moment to get herself together before she called Ang.
“Hey, what’s up? I was going to call you later.”
“Ang.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Can you come to the GW ER? Please? Nick is here, and he’s really sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him—”
“I’ll be there. Hang tight.”
“Thank you.” Thank God for her sisters, Sam thought. They always came running when she needed them. Her phone dinged with a text from Tracy saying she was at Sam’s house, and Scotty was still sleeping.
Let me know when you hear anything about Nick.
I will. Harry is with him now.
He’s in very good hands.
Sam tried to take comfort in that, in knowing Harry cared about him as much as anyone did, anyone other than her, that is. No one cared more about Nick than she did. She couldn’t sit still. She paced from one end of the small room to the other, worried about Nick, worried about Scotty waking up to Tracy rather than her. If anything happened to Nick...
That thought had her dropping into a chair because her legs were too wobbly to support her. If this was what he went through every time she walked out the door to go to work or got herself into a jam on the job, it was a wonder he could function.
Her phone rang and she took a call from Nick’s dad. “Hi, Leo.”
“Hey, Sam, I tried to reach Nick, but his phone goes right to voicemail. I know how busy he is, so I figured I’d call you about coming up for dinner this weekend.”
“Oh, um, he’s sick, Leo. He’s got the flu. In fact, I’m at the GW ER with him right now. They think he’s severely dehydrated.”
“Oh no! I just talked to him yesterday.”
“It came on him and Scotty out of nowhere.”
“Should I come down?”
“I don’t think you need to,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “They said he’s going to be fine, and I can keep you posted. No sense exposing you or Stacy and the kids to what they’ve got.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’ll tell him you called, and I’ll text you.”
“Tell him...” Leo hesitated, but only for a second. “Tell him I love him.”
“I’ll do that.” She wiped tears from her eyes. Under normal circumstances, tears pissed her off. Today she couldn’t care less about them.
Angela arrived twenty minutes after Sam called her. Wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt without a coat, she rushed into Sam’s outstretched arms.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
“How is he?”
“I haven’t heard anything since I talked to you. I’m losing my mind.”
“So what happened?”
Sam relayed the story of how Nick and Scotty had come home sick the day before, and while Scotty seemed a tad bit better after a rough night, Nick was worse. “I couldn’t get him to wake up, Ang. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Even when she’d been at Stahl’s mercy in that basement, she hadn’t been nearly as frightened as when she couldn’t rouse Nick. Being scared for herself was a whole lot different than being scared for him.
CHAPTER SIX
TIME SLOWED TO a crawl. Sam experienced every minute as if it were an hour. Her heart ached with worry and fear and the agony of being separated from him when he needed her. If the roles had been reversed, he’d be raging at anyone who tried to keep him away from her. She headed to the door to start raging,
and nearly ran into Harry.
“How is he?”
“He’s conscious but badly dehydrated and a little confused due to the dehydration. We’re pumping him full of fluid, and he should be much better in a couple of hours.”
The flood of relief was so profound that Sam ended up in Harry’s arms sobbing.
He held her until she got it all out.
“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed by her meltdown.
“Don’t be. I was pretty freaked out myself when you said he was unresponsive.”
“Glad it wasn’t just me.”
“It definitely wasn’t just you. You want to see him?”
“Yeah.” The understatement of a lifetime.
“Come on.” He gestured for Angela to join them as they walked through the ER to Nick’s room, where Brant and one of the other agents, whose name escaped her at the moment, were standing watch.
“Good to hear he’s doing better,” Brant said.
Sam nodded in agreement. In the room, a nurse typed on a computer. Nick was asleep, and when she looked extra close, she saw a tad bit more color in his cheeks than he’d had earlier.
Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it to go to him, to run her hand over his face, to brush the hair back from his forehead so she could kiss him there. “How’s his fever?” she asked the nurse.
“It was down to 102.5 the last time we checked it. He’s getting something for that in the IV.”
“Good, that’s really good.”
“He’ll be fine,” the nurse said. “It’s just going to take a day or two.”
Sam’s phone rang again, and since Nick was sound asleep, she looked at the caller ID. Terry O’Connor. She took the call from Nick’s chief of staff. “Hi, Terry.”