“What did he say?” she asks.
“He thinks it sounds like a really great idea for me,” I say.
“It is,” she agrees. “You need the time away.”
“The investigations Sam is managing are really intense. I don't feel right leaving him when I could help," I tell her. “I didn't choose to be a special agent out here rather than going back to Headquarters because I can't handle investigating or because I lost my interest in criminal justice. I just can't work near Creagan or deal with that atmosphere right now. And I feel like there might be more for me. I agreed to help Sam and the PD here when I’m not on a case. That’s why he deputized me. It’s not fair for me to just run off and leave him in the lurch.”
“Emma,” she starts, setting down the piece of roll she just tore off and wiping the icing off her fingertips with a paper towel. “Listen to me. You are an incredible investigator. You were an exceptional active field agent. And you are an exceptional resident agent doing remote work. No one is questioning that. If you hadn't decided to leave Headquarters, you would be there for the next five decades; I'm fully convinced. They would not be able to pry you out, and they wouldn't want to. And now Sherwood is lucky as hell to have you help when you do. But after everything you've gone through, that needs to be the last thing on your mind right now. I know you're trying, but you aren't all the way back to being you yet.”
“At some point, I'm going to have to stop riding the healing train and get back to normal life,” I tell her. “Don’t think I don’t know that Creagan has been purposely limiting how many cases he puts me on. Or that he’s only choosing cases that aren’t violent or too complicated. He’s doing his best to keep me in a protective bubble. Eventually I’m going to have to either push him to put me back into full active duty, or I’m going to have to figure out something else. I can’t just stay in this weird limbo forever.”
“Sure, but now isn't that time. No one is pressuring you or has any expectations for you. And it's not like you don't have the money after the settlement,” she points out. “You can afford to not be on constant active duty and to take the vacation time you have built up.”
I will likely never believe Creagan’s decision to sue the hospital on behalf of both Greg and me was anything more than a feeble attempt at starting to make amends for hiding the truth about my mother. I never would have pursued it on my own, but he insisted. The courts found the hospital responsible for their employee Martin Phillips’ drugging me and putting me in the morgue, and also Greg leaving unattended after discharge. The judge ruled the hospital didn't have enough fail-safes in place and was culpable for Greg’s death as well as the attack on me.
“Sam can't come,” I tell her. “He's stuck here working and doesn't have any vacation time to spare.”
“That doesn't stop you from getting a break,” Bellamy says.
“What about you?” I asked. “You and Eric.”
“What about me and Eric?” she asks, the emotion making her voice tight.
“I only meant why don't the two of you take the other spots? The trip is for three. Sam pointed out we haven't spent a lot of time together, just the three of us, in a really long time.”
I’m still reluctant about this whole thing, but Bellamy’s infectious attitude is starting to get to me. She’s right. I could use some time away. And how better to do that than with my two best friends in the world?
Chapter Nine
I spend Monday waiting for Sam to come home, distracting myself by trying to get ready for the trip. I've already started packing lists and preparations and am sitting on the living room couch researching Windsor Palms Resort on my tablet when he comes inside. Dropping the tablet to the cushion beside me, I jump up to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“I missed you,” I tell him.
Sam smiles and nuzzles the curve of my neck.
“Not nearly as much as I missed you,” he says.
“How can you be so sure of that?” I ask, leaning back to look at him but keeping my arms in place.
“Because you had Bellamy here to entertain you. The two of you ate your body weight in junk food and probably spent the vast majority of the weekend talking and giggling. I had a bunch of sullen police officers who didn't want anything to do with the events or the training exercises, and I ate mostly fast food and cold pizza,” he says.
“You're right,” I tell him sympathetically. “You probably did miss me a lot more.”
He laughs and dips me back for a deep, searching kiss. When he brings me back to my feet, he looks over at the sofa where my tablet landed.
“What were you looking at so seriously over there?”
“I'm researching the resort,” I explain. “I'm trying to get my head wrapped around it and get ready for the whole experience.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I haven't been on a vacation like this in a really long time. The last time I was planning on going on a real vacation, a certain sheriff called to ask for my help with a case, and it's kind of been
