And maybe, just maybe there was another reasons she said that. "Make sure he comes home to me."
Maybe she was jealous. Maybe Riggs put a fire in his eyes that she hadn't seen there in a while or ever honestly. Not even when he looked at his kid. Or her.
Maybe she was being unfair. Her husband was older. He needed a purpose, something to get him excited, something stimulating, for both his happiness and his pride. Maybe she was being ridiculous. Maybe the word maybe had become her worst enemy, made only stronger by her own mind.
She was a cop's wife, had been for a long time. But in one week, one single week with Riggs, she'd been more worried for Roger's safety than she had been in all those years.
And as she laid there in bed alone for the second night that week, the second night that her husband was sprawled out cold on the couch and not in her arms, the worst case scenarios become more and more likely.
Maybe Roger would die. Maybe he wouldn't come home one day. Or maybe he would come home, just not to her.