I couldn't resist guys, I just couldn't. My heart is literally in shreds for now, but alas, I have hope!
Please read and review, I love hearing from you guys.
Oh, and for those who might be wondering, chapter 4 of How Fickle My Heart is in the works! I swear!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue. Although it could be argued that I should, because Andy would definitely be where she belongs right now and not on the stupid taskforce!
"Are you ready to leave your old life behind," Nick questions from the back seat.
Andy's been quiet the whole car ride, silently mulling over her decision. Her head is pulling her in one direction and her heart another. She's got this nervous anticipation thumping in her heart. Sam loves her. He loves her. And he admitted it.
Huh.
He actually sounded desperate, truly sorry and ready to begin something with her. Andy has to hold back a grin as she thinks about his suggestion about getting a dog. A dog? Where did that come from? Whatever, it's the thought that counts. Sam was figuratively down on his knees, pleading with her to forgive him, to give him a second chance.
Andy bites her lip as she pulls her seatbelt across her chest, her body twisted in the seat to face Nick. She's silent for a moment too long.
"Andy?"
Andy shakes her head and squints her eyes, her brow knitting together. "No," she says softly.
Nick's eyes go wide for a second, "What?" he asks, disbelieving as he leans forward in his seat.
She releases the seatbelt, letting it snap back and reaches for the handle of the door. She gets out of the car, keeps one hand on the door and leans in.
"You know Nick, sometimes being that girl isn't a bad thing." At his confused look she explains, "I've got something here that's worth exploring," she smiles.
Nick's eyes flash with understanding and he grins, "Good luck."
Sam's on his second scotch, head bowed over the bar as he watches the brown liquid swirl in his glass. Gail sits silently next to him, looking aimlessly around the bar, still holding on to some shred of hope that Nick will come waltzing through the door any second. Sam on the other hand has given up all hope, and after all, he deserves it right? After all he did to her, how he treated her, he supposes he's not really surprised she didn't show up.
And of course he still looks up every time the door to the Penny opens, he can't help himself. Even if every open and close of that door creates one more crack in his heart, he'll do it until the end of the night if he has to. He can't give up, he won't give up. Not on this girl.
He should have called her back when he first started to doubt his decision two days after he made it.
Sam should have called the first week, when he was folding his laundry, fresh from the dryer. For the first time in about a year Sam made two separate piles, one of which wasn't returned to its normal place in the dresser. Instead he placed it in a cardboard box on his kitchen table, sighing heavily as he shifted the items around in the box to make room for her clothes.
Perhaps he should have called her back the second week, after a phone conversation with Sarah.
"Tell me, Sammy," Sarah spoke into the phone, "When am I gonna get to meet this McNally?"
Sam sighed, "Sarah…"
"Why don't you bring her up next weekend? We could go for dinner or something."
Sam didn't answer for a few seconds.
"Sam?"
"Yeah, two weeks ago that sort of –"
"Are you kidding me Sam?" Sarah said into the phone, her voice loud and angry. "You already messed it up?"
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sarah, it's not that easy."
"Whatever Sam, just fix it. I'll expect to see both of you this weekend."
Sam did venture to St. Catharines that weekend, his passenger seat in the truck empty and quiet the whole drive.
Or the third, when he locked his keys inside the truck and couldn't find the other set.
He tore his house apart looking for them, overturning couch cushions and dumping his hamper of dirty laundry over his bedroom floor. His house was starting to get a little dirty, but it seemed that his quest to locate the spare set of keys made it an utter disaster. Fed up, Sam leaned against his kitchen counter drinking a beer – waiting for his insurance company to come and get his keys out of his truck. He made his way to the front door when the guy rang his bell, and when Sam opened the door the guy was hanging up his phone.
"Uh huh, yeah. Love you too. Okay, bye," the man finished and turned to Sam, his hand stuck out for him to shake. "Hi, I'm Dan, I believe you locked …"
That's when it clicked for Sam. Ah, you might as well keep 'em.
The fourth week was too miserable for Sam to even consider talking to her. His head was all over the place. He was mad at himself, at her, at Jerry. He knew he was irritable and irrational and somewhat reckless, but he just didn't care. Four weeks wasn't enough time for him to shut down his protective instincts on her, either. He was constantly worried about her, telling her to wait outside until he and Diaz arrived at the scene that one day with the priest. Did she listen? Of course not.
That only enraged him more.
The fifth week he really wanted to talk to her, he did. He tried, god knows he did. But she blew him off multiple times, dutifully informing him that her wellbeing was no longer his job to care about. That stung him deep, the realization that she wasn't his anymore resonating deep within him.
On the sixth week, Sam finally took action. And where did that get him? Nowhere.
The door to the Penny swings open once more as he takes a swig of his scotch. He sets it down and looks over, just about spitting out his scotch as it swishes around in his mouth. A broad smile takes over his features as Andy makes her way over to him, a small smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye.
Sam swivels on his stool to face her and she steps between his knees, places her hands on his shoulders.
"You came," he says, surprise seeping into his tone.
Andy nods, "Yeah, I did."
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