I grab my cell phone, dialing Martin and let out a soft breath as he picks up.

******

"Hello?"

"Hey, Martin," I whisper, taking a seat on my sofa and curling up to get comfortable.

"I was worried about you. Did you get my message?"

"I saw you called; I didn't listen to it yet, though. I'm sorry I ran out on you earlier." I bite down on my lip as I shut my eyes. I love Jack and I might always love him, but if he's sworn to a life with Maria and his children, what other choice do I have but to move on?

"It's all right," he laughs softly. "You doing better?"

"Yeah, I just needed some rest," I answer with a sad smile playing on my lips.

"Do you want me to come by and pick you up for dinner?"

"No," I shout abruptly. "Sorry," I whisper, "I'd rather just stay in for the night."

"Oh," Martin sounds disappointed, and it breaks my heart more so now than ever.

"How about tomorrow night?" I quip, "although I was thinking we could see a movie maybe."

"A movie?" Martin repeats aloud. "Yeah, that sounds good," he pauses and a quiet moment passes between us on the phone. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," I whisper. I close my tired eyes and lie back on the sofa. "Martin?"

"Yeah, Samantha?"

"Can we take things slow between us?"

"Of course." I can imagine the look on his face by the sound in his voice. He's not sure what to make of my words, and truth is neither am I. "You sound tired. Do you want me to let you go?"

"No," I whisper. "Talk to me." Make me forget my pain.

"Okay. What do you want to talk about?" I can hear him shifting around, probably taking a seat to make himself comfortable.

"Tell me about when you were a kid."

"Samantha, you don't want to hear that."

"Sure I do," I answer, figuring his childhood had to have been spectacular compared to my own.

"It's more of a conversation we should have in person, not over the phone."

"Oh," I whisper with a sigh. "Okay then, you pick the topic."

"Your first kiss."

"Martin, you are such a guy," I shake my head with a laugh.

"No. I didn't ask who your first was."

"Oh, but you're getting there," I point out. He laughs softly and there's a quiet silence between us. "Dylan," I whisper. "We were in the fifth grade and I was cold, so he offered me his coat. In return I gave him a kiss."

"Awww," Martin laughs softly.

"Your turn to share."

"I was certainly much older than you."

"How old?" I question.

"Does it matter?"

"You've got me curious."

"I was in the 12th grade, you do the math."

"And?" I probe.

"I had a huge crush on her. We all went camping together; our families were friends and we hung out for quite some time. She was a little older than I was and certainly more experienced. She ended up cornering me our last night there. I didn't just have my first kiss." He tells me.

"Wow."

"I didn't do that," he corrects me. "We fooled around, but it was mostly innocent."

"Sure it was," I tease him.

"So what about you, Samantha?"

"What about me?" My eyes widen.

"When was your first time?"

"Oh no," I shake my head. "We're not having this conversation! I told you it would lead right there, and sure enough." I hear Martin laughing and can feel a smile playing on my lips.

"Come on, Samantha. I'll tell you anything you want to know, and I don't offer that to just anyone."

"It's not a story you want to hear," I whisper.

"Why not?" he questions.

"It doesn't have a happy ending."

"Breakups usually don't," he responds softly.

"It's not that," I answer. "We fooled around one day when my mom wasn't home. My Uncle Marcus moved in a few years before and, of course, he came home early and caught us in bed together. He was outraged, hit me across the face and called me a whore," I whisper.

"Samantha," I hear Martin's soft voice. "You're not."

"I know," I answer. "I ran away that night. I wanted to get as far away from that house as possible," I pause, "until I saw my mother looking for me. I realized that life was worth living. I didn't speak with my uncle after that, and my mother didn't understand. She was angry with me; I suppose that's why I rebelled by marrying the guy when I was eighteen."

"It didn't last?" he questions, already knowing the answer.

"No," I laugh softly. "He was marrying me to get away from his family too. Once we were eighteen and on our own, we realized we didn't really need each other any longer. Things didn't work out and I suppose it was for the best."

"It was," Martin tells me soundly.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't realize."

"It's fine," I answer softly. "You wouldn't have known. I've hardly told anyone that story."

"It's your turn."

"What?" I question, slightly confused.

"You answered what I wanted to know. I told you that after you did, I'd answer any question you wanted to know."

"Oh---right," I nod my head, shifting the phone to my other ear.

"So?" he inquires. "What will it be? Past girlfriends, family, schooling, college-life?"

"How about," I pause, thinking of how to word my question, "why do you think you're in love with me?"

I hear his breath catch in his throat and can imagine him trying to come up with an answer I want to hear.

"You want my honest response?"

"That's what I was going for," I answer with a laugh.

"You are the most beautiful, caring, and expressive woman I know."

"So, if you met someone else, then you'd fall in love with her just as easily?" I quip.

"Samantha," his voice grows louder, telling me to listen to him. "I never believed in love at first sight, but the moment I saw you at the office, I just knew," he lets out a soft breath of air.

Strangely enough, the answer he's given me is sweet and makes me smile sadly, but it does nothing to fill the empty void in my life.

"Why wouldn't anyone love you?" he questions.

I let out a soft breath, rolling onto my side and wiping the few stray tears that have fallen.

"Yeah," I breathe out, thinking of Jack and how he loves me but chooses to be with his wife. What kind of love is that?

"You sound sad," he pauses, waiting for my answer.

"I am," I tell him, closing my eyes as I feel a few more tears falling their way down past my cheeks.

"Why?" he questions.

"It's just--" I pause, contemplating how much to tell him without hurting him. "The past few months have been so emotional," I let out a soft sigh, "sometimes I wonder if I can do this job and still be me."

"It's okay to change."

"No," I shake my head. "These cases haunt me more then ever lately, and I haven't had that in awhile. Usually it's the bad ones---the disappearance of children or other atrocities."

"But?"

"The last couple have left me stunned and feeling vulnerable."

"It's okay to feel something, you know," he pauses before continuing. "When you saw Lisa, did you talk with her about all this?"

"Yes," I breathe out, nodding my head. "She isn't much help, though; she just listens to what I have to say. Truth is, sometimes I don't feel comfortable answering the questions she asks."

"Why is that?"

I let out a breath. "You're becoming like her."

"Sorry," he grimaces. "I'm doubting Lisa will be back soon after what happened to her and her daughter. Do you think you'll see someone else?"

"I don't know," I pause. "I haven't really thought about it."

"You know I'm always here."

"Yeah--thanks," I whisper. "Listen I should go," I tell him, wanting to end this conversation because it's taken a turn for the worse. I see it heading there already.

"If it's any conciliation, Samantha, I know what you're going through. I've been there myself."

"Yeah--thanks, Martin."

"All right, I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I whisper before hanging up.

I feel slightly better after talking to Martin. Even though our conversation wasn't the ideal one, it was at least a start to something. I shrug at the notion of anything with Martin. We're friends; it seems weird to be anything more---although I've always known he likes me. Besides, isn't it good to be friends first with a guy? Isn't that how a long- term relationship starts and has potential for lasting, or at least ideally?

I roll around on the sofa, lying on my stomach and resting my head on a couch pillow. Why do I still have these sexual and emotional feelings for Jack Malone? If they would just go away, then maybe I could move on. Would I want to, though? Would I be happy without the one man I love? Truth is, he's the first man I've ever really loved. Before it was lust and teenage fantasies, never about what Jack and I had or shared for even a brief time.

I hear a brief knocking on the door and I let out a sigh, wondering who it could be.