Blazing Sun
He sits on her couch talking into his cell phone while she packs. Yes, he has the rest of the day off. No, she really doesn't need his help packing her lingerie, thank you very much. They are moving in together. She doesn't know if she's more excited or nervous. She wants to be wherever he is. She loves his 7th-floor apartment. He wants her to give up her apartment. They both know it's not safe here. She agrees to his demand. She doesn't want to be his burden. She doesn't want him to constantly worry about her safety. She won't miss her ugly bathroom or the wobbly elevator. She can't wait to get rid of her narrow queen size bed. She recalls the night she tackled him to the floor and the passionate, demanding kiss that followed. She recalls the silent, powerful emotion in his almost black eyes when he proposed the deal. She recalls the first night they spent together. She recalls the mornings when she woke up tangled with him. This small apartment holds so many memories. She's going to miss having her own place. But there are also things she wants to forget.
She almost died the night he walked in and got shot.
She had sex in the very same bed with another man.
She needs to have a clean start and leave all the unpleasant memories behind, she has decided. For tonight will be the first night of the rest of their life.
She's neither naïve nor delusional. She knows they'll have some trouble fitting seamlessly into each other's life. They will do their best and make it work, she's sure of that. He will be a part of her life. She will evict the insecurity and uncertainty she always feels from the core of her being. And maybe she should take his advice: just pack an overnight bag and come back for the rest of the stuff. She's not a good organizer. She's never good at packing. She gets tired and distracted too easily. Now she feels like a chipmunk preparing for winter. All the bottles of makeup and hair products and shoes and clothes are making her dizzy. Or maybe she's just so happy that her head won't stop spinning...
The doorbell rings. For some unknown reason her heartbeat quickens. She becomes more uneasy as the sudden sinking feeling in her stomach grows. She stands up and walks out of her bedroom. She hears the door open. She stops dead. Joe Morelli, the last man she wants to see, is standing right here at her apartment door staring poisoned daggers at Ranger. The air is thick with tension. The silence is deafening. Anger and panic rise inside her at the same time. She clenches her fists.
What does she need to do to make him go away? What does she need to do to make him understand? They are over now. There is nothing left. She has already let go. Why can't he just move on? Why does he always have to come back and haunt her? Why couldn't he stay in the Navy? Why didn't he move to Guam or Japan or permanently after he left the Navy? Why Couldn't he join LAPD or NYPD? Why did he have to come back to Trenton? Why couldn't he leave his nest and find his sky? And why the hell did she yield herself to him over and over again so easily? Why the hell was she so stupid? How could anyone be that stupid? She tries to take a step forward, her blood raging in her ears. She wants to scream in Joe's face and tell him to go away. She wants to run back to her room, jump onto her bed and pull the blanket over her head. She wants to smack Joe hard on the head. She wants to hide behind Ranger's back. She narrows her eyes and thins her lips as the cold but familiar voice sounds.
"So," Joe Morelli says through clenched teeth. "You have been cheating on me, Stephanie."
Then he draws back his arm and swing his fist at Ranger with lightning speed.