Sorry for the delay on this one, it was giving me trouble. I knew what happened but couldn't get it onto the page. And goodness writing a chapter heavily featuring music is hard! But hopefully I've pulled it off. It's pretty cheesy, but I like it.
XOXOXOX
"Have a good time," Chris called.
Morena turned, throwing him a wave over her shoulder, before jogging down the front steps after Danny and CJ. The two teenagers claimed that they were going to the movie theatre for CJ's benefit, but Chris had his suspicions that they really wanted to go themselves. Judging by the fact that every time Morena had the laptop, the Minions trailer was always one of the most watched videos on youtube.
Left to his own devices, Chris threw a pizza in the oven, grabbed a beer and settled himself on the sofa for the baseball game. He picked up the first slice of pizza, lifting it towards his mouth, when the doorbell rang. Typical. He sighed, returning the pizza to the plate.
Of all the things he expected upon opening the door, a distraught Meredith Brody was not one of them.
"Brody, what's going on?"
The tears she had been trying so hard to contain escaped as soon he he spoke. The dam gone, she fell forward against his chest. Instantly Chris wrapped his arms around her, pressing her face into his shoulder.
"I got you," he murmured, just like he had to Morena when her anxiety flared up. "It's okay, I'm here. It's okay Merri."
"Chris..." she choked.
Without letting her go, Chris gently manoeuvred her into the apartment, kicking the door closed, and taking her to the sofa. The pizza, so recently longed for, now sat forgotten.
To Brody's relief, Lasalle didn't push her for information, didn't try to get her to tell him what was wrong. He just held her, one hand massaging the back of her head, murmuring that he was here for her, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The ache that had re-taken residence in her heart since seeing that webpage declaring her sister's death a murder threatened to overwhelm her, but with every whispered reassurance and embrace from Chris, it abated ever so minutely.
Lasalle knew his partner was a strong, capable woman, who could take down a perp twice her size with no assistance. So this sudden desire to protect her was completely unfounded. Yet if he could, he would promise to protect her from the world. He didn't though; from bitter experience he knew there was no way he could. But he could be there for her when she needed him.
Eventually Brody cried herself out, lying still in his arms. A little while later, she pulled away, sitting up and wiping her eyes.
"Here," Chris said, handing her a nearly-new tissue.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
"You okay Brody?"
"I'll be fine. I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"
"What you shouldn't do, is finish that sentence," he scolded. "There ain't nothing to apologise for. You eat yet?"
Brody hesitated, glancing uncertainly towards the abandoned and congealed pizza. Chris shook his head.
"Naw, this calls for something more than frozen pizza," he added. "Come on."
He took her hand and lead her through to the kitchen.
"Now most people go for comfort food that's trashy and bad for you," Chris began. "But I don't follow that reasoning. And the first ingredient for comfort food," he continued, grabbing a remote and pointing it as the music system. "Is damn good music. Music's medicine for the soul."
Brody grinned, recognising the upbeat country track from one of the many times she'd accepted a ride from Lasalle in his truck. She wondered if he realised how alike he and Pride seemed at that moment. As she settled herself onto a stool, Lasalle turned to raid the fridge, emerging moments later with an armful of vegetables.
"So what's on the menu, chef?" she asked.
"How does chicken noodle soup sound?"
"Like heaven in a bowl," she declared.
Lasalle flashed her a dazzling grin.
"Okay then."
Filling a pan with water, Lasalle whistled along with the music, joining in with the chorus as he turned on the cooker. Brody made a mental note never to mention the fact that he had a really great singing voice. Really, really great.
"Why don't we do a little day drinkin'?" he sang, throwing the first lot of vegetables into the water with the chicken. Then he put the lid on the pan, and turned his attention to the remainder of the vegetables, moving in time to the music. Brody hopped off her stool, moving to watch over his shoulder.
Chris glanced over his shoulder at his partner, who was now so very close to him.
"You mind?" he teased. "You're in my light."
"Nice hip movements," Brody retorted before she could stop herself.
"You got it, flaunt it," he grinned.
Brody threw back her head as laughter overtook her, but she returned to the stool. Seeing her laughing and smiling again, properly smiling all the way to her eyes, warmed Chris' heart. Since the soup needed to boil for another good forty minutes before anything else had to be added, he wiped his hands on a towel then offered her one of his hands. Brody narrowed her eyes, then gave him her hand. He pulled her off the stool and spun her under his arm, eliciting more laughter from her. With a grin, he swung her round into his arms, then raised one arm, singing along at the top of his voice, "We stayed up all night long, made our drinks too strong, feeling ten feet tall, rope swinging through the water in the middle of the night."
Brody shook her head, allowing the hand not in Chris' to fall against his chest. He lowered his free hand, dropping it onto her waist, still singing along to every word.
"I was born and raised on it, might've misbehaved on it, worked hard and played on it, we had it made."
"You're crazy, you know that?" Brody told him as the song changed, this time to a slower pace.
Chris shrugged.
"All the best people are," he retorted.
Brody chuckled. He swayed them both in time to the beat of the music, lowering his voice to sing along again.
"If I never get to see the northern lights, or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night, oh if all I got is my hand in your hand, baby I could die a happy man."
Suddenly Chris became very aware of Brody's hand in his, and how close they were standing. He swallowed. Going by the way Brody had suddenly dropped his gaze, he guessed she had realised the exact same things. They stepped back awkwardly, Brody returning to her stool, while Chris picked up the knife again to continue chopping the vegetables as if it had been his plan all along.
Finally the track ended, much to his relief as it was bringing images to mind that were very confusing and far too distracting for a man using a large knife. He tapped his foot along, humming in the back of his throat. It was on the second chorus that he happened to glance up and saw Brody's eyes filled up with tears again. Instantly he dropped the knife and was at her side.
"Merri?"
"Sorry," she whispered.
"What is it?"
"The song."
Chris frowned. As far as he was aware Merri wasn't a country fan and it wasn't exactly a mainstream track, and was still fairly new, so he was at a loss as to why this song in particular should elicit this reaction. Seeing his confusion, she gave a weak smile.
"Emily," she explained.
The name of the song.
"Yeah?" he nodded, still not comprehending.
"My sister," she elaborated. She squeezed her eyes shut, and took a ragged breath. "I think she was murdered," she breathed.
Brody opened her eyes again, looking up and seeing Lasalle right there. A moment passed then he wrapped his arms around here again. Brody wanted to fight; she considered herself far too strong a woman to need a man holding her while she cried twice in one night. But Lasalle was right there, and warm and comforting and non-judgemental and kissing her hair. So she submitted, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"I'll change the song," he murmured, grabbing the remote with one hand. "Just promise me one thing. Never apologise for crying in front of me again."
Brody let out a small chuckle. It was as though he'd read her mind.
"Promise?" he continued, letting her go and staring into her eyes.
"Promise," she replied with a small, but genuine, smile.
XOXOXOX
Incase you're interested, the songs on Chris' playlist are:
Day Drinking – Little Big Town
Raised On It – Sam Hunt
Die a Happy Man – Thomas Rhett
Emily – Andrew Combs