The answering machine light was blinking when she entered the door. As she rushed to check the messages, Evangeline could only think that something else had happened to John since she left him at the diner. She shouldn't have listened to him; she should have insisted that he see a doctor. Evangeline knew how that would have gone over. She hadn't wanted to leave him, but she knew he had a job to do and that he wouldn't rest until said job was done.
"Hi Cookie. It's mom. I was just checking in on you. Give me a call tomorrow. I love you."
"I love you, too, mommy," she whispered. "I wish you were here."
Evangeline walked around the apartment straightening things that didn't need to be straightened. She had Antonio's case the next morning and should really be sleeping, but she knew she couldn't; not until she talked to John. He had to be okay. When he'd been out there looking for the killer, she'd been worried sick. John must know her better than she thought, because he'd given her a job to do. He knew she needed to feel useful, so even in the middle of the crisis, he'd turned to her. Maybe, he was learning about this relationship thing.
Evangeline understood that John would be devastated if something happened to someone he cared about because they were trying to help him. So, she'd stayed at the diner, even when everything in her told her to go to him. She trusted him to take care of himself and come back to her. If Natalie had gotten him hurt with her impetuousness, it would have been a fight beyond anything that little girl could imagine. Thank God, he was alive.
This was the first time he'd been hurt in the line of duty since they'd started seeing each other. It was who he was and she had worked with enough cops to know that bad things sometimes happened. She loved him, so it was something she would have to live with.
Later, Evangeline had straightened everything that could possibly be touched in her apartment. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well focus on Antonio's case. She was halfway through the file when the door opened. Evangeline stood, but didn't move.
"The doorman let me in." John shut the door, but made no move toward her. He was tentative and Evangeline couldn't understand why. Was he afraid of her reaction? How could he not know that she would be relieved to see him?
"I thought you were gonna call." As she looked at him, she noticed the bruises on his neck. Tears filled her eyes as she realized yet again that John could have been killed tonight.
"I thought it would be better if I just showed up." John moved to her and held her face between his hands, before kissing her. When she pulled away, he said, "Evangeline, I'm fine."
He could obviously see the anxiety on her face. She might as well admit to what was really wrong.
"I know, but the fact remains that you could have been killed."
"That's the job. You know that."
"I do. I guess I just never really thought about anything happening to you."
"I can take care of myself."
"I know that, John. It's just something I have to come to terms with."
"What's that?"
"That there could be a day that you don't come home."
"That is a possibility for both of us, but we're here now and we're together. That's all that matters."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips to the bruises. As she caressed them, she felt his arms wrap around her waist. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling. Evangeline couldn't believe how good it felt to be in his arms. As much as she tried, Evangeline couldn't hold back the tears that slid down her cheek. John must have felt the wetness, because he pulled back and looked at her.
"Hon, I'm fine. It's okay."
"I'm just glad you're here and that I can hold you in my arms. That's all."
"Me, too." With that he pulled her to him and the kiss he gave her took her breath away. The next thing she knew she was lifted into his arms and carried into her bedroom.
An hour later, John laid watching Evangeline sleep. When they'd made love, Evangeline had whispered that she loved him. He was in love with her; he knew that. He'd wanted to say the words back so badly, but fear or insecurity or something he couldn't identify kept him from saying the words aloud.
When he'd come back into the diner and seen her face, he knew what he'd put her through. That he was responsible for the anxiety and worry she'd experienced hurt him. John never wanted to be responsible for hurting her, so his first priority was letting her know that he was fine. He had a job to do, but he had to make sure she was alright.
Was he the right man for her? Should she have to go through this? Was it even his decision to make? He didn't have an answer for any of those questions. He pushed the hair back from her cheek. God, she was beautiful and she was his. She'd said earlier, the possibility of something happening to him was something she had to come to terms with. He took that to mean that she wasn't planning on going anywhere. She was the strongest woman he knew. Thank God, she was on his side.