When I ran down to tell Rush, he gave me a hassled look, but as I was sensing was oh so Rush, he got out of the truck and came inside.
Cue quick intros that led into Hank sharing the news.
Bringing us to now.
“Yeah, we actually could leave him in his truck,” Paul retorted.
“I’ll step out,” Rush murmured.
“Oh no you will not,” Amy snapped at him then to Paul, “He’s Rebel’s man. Rebel’s family So he’s family.”
“That’s insane,” Paul bit out.
Considering Rush and I had been seeing each other for less than a week, and they’d never met him, although I was so totally falling in love with him (I mean seriously, how could I not?), it kind of was.
“It is not,” Amy returned. “And further, it can’t be easy for Lieutenant Nightingale to share this with us.”
“He gets paid to do this kind of thing,” Paul shot back.
Oh boy.
Amy’s face got red and she returned, “Yes, on a Sunday morning, away from his family, sharing the delightful news our daughter was involved with a pervert who killed her, I’m sure to do that he gets paid handsomely.”
“Perhaps we should leave you two to—” Hank started.
“Yes,” Amy bit out. “You should. You should go home to your wife and try to forget you know any of this, and if you have any children hold tight to them and enjoy the rest of your Sunday. Thank you for coming. Thank you for not giving up on Diane. I know what you had to share this morning wasn’t easy, but I’m grateful you took the time to do it and I’m also grateful to know this is finally done.”
“It’s not done,” Paul muttered. “It’ll never be done.”
“It seems it won’t,” Amy clipped at him. “Considering, after experiencing my daughter succumbing to drugs, you feel the need to force me to watch my husband succumbing to alcohol.”
“Shit,” Rush said under his breath.
That was when Paul got red in the face.
I really should have pushed it with Amy to let Rush stay out in his truck.
“Now we’re gonna do this in front of two guys I don’t even know?” Paul asked irately.
“Yes, we are, Paul, because I’m a mess. My only child is dead. My husband is slowly killing himself. But none of that negates the fact we have a mortgage to pay and only a part-time income coming in to pay it since you feel the need to be inebriated twenty-four hours a day, like you are right now. So you’re on an unpaid leave of absence that needed to end, oh, I don’t know,” she leaned toward him, “three weeks ago.” She leaned back and tossed out both arms in exasperation. “You’re off, drunk, buying panini makers for goodness sakes! Driving drunk, I might add. This has gotten completely out of hand. The Diane I raised would be ashamed of us.”
Paul leaned toward her. “The Diane you raised became a porn star.”
Uh-oh.
Now I was getting mad.
Rush’s hand came out and held tight to mine and somehow, with that, I didn’t lose it.
Amy had no one to hold her hand.
So she reared back again, and after she did, she shouted, “Tell that to your vodka bottle, Paul!”
I gave Rush a squeeze, pulled free, moved furtively to Hank, put my hand on his arm and whispered, “Thanks, Hank. You can go. Tell Roxie I said hi.”
He looked at me, and the warm, whisky-eyed sweetheart was back.
His fingers found mine, held tight for a beat, and he murmured, “Talk to them about victims’ assistance again.”
I nodded.
He shifted his attention to Paul and Amy. “Mr. and Mrs. Ragowski, try to take care of yourselves,” to which he received a heated glare (Paul) and an apologetic look (Amy).
They deflected off him (or at least I hoped the glare did) and he moved to and out the door.
When it closed behind him, I looked to my friends. “Paul, Amy, Rush and I are gonna take off too.”
Amy’s back went straight, her chin came up, and she announced, “I’m leaving him.”
God dammit.
“You’re what?” Paul asked.
She turned to her husband. “I’m moving in with Barbara. It’s all set. And if you don’t get to a meeting and get yourself dried out and get back to work, we’re putting the house on the market and I’m filing for divorce. I’m not going to end this living nightmare having a dead daughter, an alcoholic husband and bad credit. You have a week, Paul. Life’s