The Light That Never Fades CH.4
Chapter Four
Life in Los Angeles felt uglier than before. Between the budget cuts, short tempers, more shootings, and more gang activity everybody was on edge. Even Ben Sherman had changed over the last year. He was less naïve and harder around the edges now but still a pain in the ass, but now he carried himself like someone who’d seen too much too fast. By the time Sammy went back to patrol, he already knew people were talking. CRASH was gone and honestly, he didn’t care anymore. So, he did the only thing that made sense to him and that was being on patrol being able to at the end of shift leave things at work.
“You’re brooding again,” Sherman said from the passenger seat.
Sammy kept his eyes on the road but still shook his head. “I’m driving.”
“Nah, man. This is advanced-level brooding.”
“You learn that in roll call?”
Ben smirked. “I’m observant.” Sammy snorted quietly and turned the wheel as they rolled through South Central.
“Two-one respond to family disturbance…” The radio crackled.
Sammy grabbed the mic automatically.
“Two-one copy.” Ben glanced sideways at him as Sammy hit the lights before asking,
“You ever miss being a detective?”
“Nope.”
“You answered that a little to quick so that’s a lie.” Sherman said to him with a smile on his face.
“Okay,” Sammy admitted smiling slightly. “Sometimes.”
Mostly he missed feeling like he had control over something. For the past year he felt like his life had been completely out of his control. His phone buzzed against his duty belt. Tammi. Again. He ignored it and Ben being ever the observant individual that he is, noticed.
“That the ex?” He asked
“Technically still my wife.” Sammy huffed quietly
“Which sounds like a nightmare sentence man.”
“You got no idea.” Sammy told him with his phone buzzing again. Then again.
“Damn. Somebody’s determined.” Ben said as Sammy’s phone rang once again. Stopping at a red light and Sammy pulled out his phone answering it with a gruff,
“What do you want Tammi?”
“You need to stop ignoring me.” Tammi’s sharp voice came through the speaker.
“I’m working Tammi, you know that. I’m back on patrol.”
“You need to come by after shift.”
“Why? What happened?” Sammy asked, his stomach tightening.
“I went to the doctor and decided that I’m going to do the amnio test just as a precaution.”
Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding he asked. “Does this mean that you’re going to get the paternity test?”
Sammy gripped the steering wheel tightly in anticipation waiting on her answer, “No, why would I.” She came back sharply.
“Tammi, I think I have the right to know if I’m the father or not.”
That was the moment that Tammi started to yell. Yelling about how it doesn’t matter who the father is, that he wasn’t there, how Sammy doesn’t like the person that she is in love with. She ended the call angrily causing Sammy to pull the phone away from his ear and look at it exasperatedly. He let out an angry breath and slammed his hands on the steering wheel and then looked over at Sherman before saying,
“Never get married man. It’s not worth the headache”
Sherman laughed as they drove off continuing their patrol for the day.
******************************************************************************
You were sitting cross-legged on Mariella’s living room floor helping Maria color when Sammy showed up three hours later. Seeing the look on his face made your heart sink, Mariella noticed that too.
“You look awful,” she said bluntly from the kitchen, trying to bring a lightness to the situation.
Sammy looked at her exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally like somebody had pulled the ground out from under him.
“Appreciate that.”
You stood up and slowly walked over to him putting your hand on his shoulder before asking,
“What happened?”
Sammy looked at you and then toward the kids causing Mariella to follow the direction of his eyes immediately.
“Petey,” she called out to him gently, “go play with your sister please.”
Once he disappeared, the room went quiet. Sammy stayed standing near the doorway like he wasn’t even sure why he’d come. Then finally he said,
“Tammi’s refusing to get the paternity test.”
Mariella’s face immediately tightened. You felt your chest sink at the look of defeat on his face as the silence filled the room. Mariella muttered something in Spanish under her breath before rubbing a hand over her forehead. Sammy laughed bitterly.
“Yeah. That’s about the reaction I had.”
The honesty in it hurt. Because Sammy usually survived things by joking through them and now, he just looked tired.
“What does she want?” Mariella asks as she crossed her arms.
“I don’t know. For us to play big happy family. Me, the baby, her and her boyfriend.” Sammy told them both as he threw his hands up in defeat and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.
Sitting next to him, rubbing his back slightly, you asked him softly. “And what do you want?”
Sammy looked at you and for a second, something vulnerable cracked through his expression, the room had fallen quiet before he answered.
“I don’t know anymore.”
Mariella finally sighed as she looked between you two. “I’m going to take the kids over to my mom’s for dinner.”
“Mari, you don’t have to leave.” You said as she looked over.
“Yes, I do.” Mariella said grabbing her purse and walking back over to you and whispering. “Because he clearly came here to see and talk to you. I buried my husband six months ago. I have earned the right to say uncomfortable things.” She said pointing her finger between you both. You nearly choked on laughter as Mariella ignored you both before she disappeared up the stairs yelling for the kids to get ready. Sammy rubbed both hands over his face and sank down onto the couch.
“You wanna talk about it?” You asked, sinking down next to him.
“Not at all.” He said letting out a breath.
“Okay.” You said looking straight ahead.
“But I probably should.”
Sammy stared straight ahead at the dark television screen before he said,
“I thought my life would calm down eventually,” he admitted quietly. “After Nate died everything just…” He shook his head.
You understood, nothing had felt stable for any of them since Nate’s death. Mariella was trying to raise grieving children while drowning in medical bills and mortgage payments. Sammy buried himself in patrol shifts and overtime and you spent most days helping everyone else avoid falling apart so she wouldn’t have to think about herself.
“You know the messed-up thing?” Sammy asked quietly.
“What’s that?” You asked as you looked over at him.
His voice softened, turning slightly to look at you. “When Tammi told me… you were the first person I wanted to talk too and after work I just got in the car and drove here without even thinking about it. You’re kind of the only place that still feels normal.”
His confession made your heartbeat flutter unexpectedly with your face heating up, the words settling heavy between you. because somewhere along the line, you knew that Sammy had become your person too.
******************************************************************************
A few days later, you sat on the front porch steps watching while Sammy stood in the driveway helping Mariella fix a broken gate. Mostly because Sammy refused to let anyone else touch tools.
“You’re doing that wrong,”
“You’ve said that six times already.” Mariella said as she stood up and folded her arms.
“Because you keep doing it wrong.” He answered.
You laughed quietly from your place on the porch swing. Sammy looked over at you automatically when he heard and paused Something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. Mariella noticed immediately because of course she did. The late afternoon sunlight hit your face just enough to make him stare for a second too long. You were wearing one of Nate’s old USC sweatshirts with your hair pulled up, smiling for the first time in days.
“Oh, that’s interesting.” She said as she looked between you two once before smirking faintly.
Sammy looked over at her and frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mariella.” She ignored him completely. A few minutes later she disappeared inside, leaving you and Sammy alone in the driveway. Looking up from your iced tea and book you glanced at him,
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He said looking down at the tools on the ground.
“You sure?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Sammy said turning his gaze back to you with his signature crooked smirk
You shrugged your shoulders and said,
“Because you look weird today.”
Sammy huffed a laugh.
“You know,” you said carefully, “I’ve actually been thinking about something.”
“That sounds dangerous.” He said with a smile.
“I’m serious.”
He leaned against the fence. “Okay.”
You hesitated before finally saying, “I’ve been thinking about applying to the academy.”
“What?” Sammy looked at you in astonishment.
“The police academy.” You said looking at him like he had grown another head.
“No, I heard you. I just think it’s a terrible idea.”
You rolled your eyes immediately. “Wow. Supportive.”
“I’m serious, Sunny.”
“So am I.” She shot back.
Sammy shook his head. “Why would you wanna do this job?”
“Because Nate loved it.” You replied almost instantly.
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t.” The words came sharper than he intended.
Your expression hardened slightly. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I know what this job does to people.”
“And I know what it meant to my brother and I’ve seen what it means to others.”
Sammy looked away, because at that moment she sounded exactly like Nate. But you kept talking quietly.
“I spent years wanting to help people like Nate did. I thought maybe psychology, profiling, something federal…” She shrugged faintly. “But after he died, I realized I don’t wanna sit behind a desk somewhere reading reports while other people are out there actually helping.”
For Sammy, that hit too close, Because Nate had believed in the job right up until the end. Even after all the violence and politics and exhaustion. You stood from the porch swing slowly.
“I’m not saying I’ll do it,” she admitted. “I’m just thinking about it.”
Sammy studied you carefully and to him you had never looked more determined and stronger than you did in that moment. Then when he spoke it became the quiet back and forth that you were used too.
“You’d wanna work Newton?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.” You said laughing softly.
He shook his head slowly.
“You know patrol sucks, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“You get shot at.”
“Also, aware.”
“You see awful things every day.”
“So do you.” You said looking at him steadily.
Something tightened painfully in his chest because suddenly he realized why the idea terrified him so much. Not because you couldn’t do it but because you could and he knew it. But because the thought of something happening to you made him physically ill.
“You’d be good at it,” he admitted finally.
You blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He smirked faintly. “Your already yell at me like a training officer.”
You laughed softly, and there it was again. That warm feeling in his chest spread every time he heard your laugh.
******************************************************************************
It happened quietly, no dramatic speech, no buildup just, you helping fold laundry at the table while Sammy fixed a cabinet hinge in the kitchen on one of his rare days off. When Mariella walked in holding paperwork, her face looked exhausted. The kind that settled deep in your bones after surviving too much for too long.
“I’m selling the house.” Mariella said in a quiet breath. “I met with a realtor today,”
Everything stopped. Sammy slowly lowered the screwdriver in his hand, and you stared at her before asking,
“What? Why?”
Silence filled the kitchen. Sammy understood immediately, because the house still felt haunted by Nate sometimes. His academy photos, his coffee mugs, the indentation on the couch cushion where he used to sit. There were ghosts everywhere for all of you. Mariella sat carefully at the table, rubbing her eyes tiredly her voice cracking slightly when she started to talk.
“I just can’t stay here anymore; every room reminds me of him. I wanna move closer to my mom. The kids need stability and I…” Her voice broke. “I can’t breathe here anymore.”
Crossing the kitchen instantly, you hugged her tightly. Mariella finally started crying, not loud and not dramatic. Just exhausted tears against your shoulder while years of grief spilled out all at once. Sammy looked away respectfully, jaw tight. Because there was nothing he could fix here. Later that night after Mariella finally got the kids to sleep, you and Sammy sat outside on the porch steps in silence as you hugged a blanket tightly around your shoulders.
“She really means it.” You said sighing softly.
“Yeah.” Sammy said letting out a defeated breath.
“She’s leaving.”
Sammy nodded slowly staring out at the horizon.
“She needs to.”
“The kids are gonna hate it.” You said as you wiped your eyes quickly.
“Probably.”
“She says it’ll be better eventually.”
“You don’t believe that?” He asked looking over at you.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” You said, wiping tears as you quietly laughed.
The honesty he heard in your voice hurt him, because you had spent the last year carrying everybody else’s grief while barely acknowledging your own. Sammy stared out toward the street for a long moment before speaking again.
“What if we bought a place?”
“What?” You asked as you blinked quickly.
“A house.”
She frowned slightly. “Sammy…”
“I’m serious. If the baby is mine and Tammi goes after custody when its born, having an actual house helps.” He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. You watched him carefully.
“She’d use your apartment against you?”
“She’d use anything against me.” The bitterness in his voice made her chest ache. Sammy sighed heavily and glanced back at the house.
“And Mariella’s right. The kids need stability, maybe we all do.”
Your heartbeat sped up slightly and you said,
“You’re talking about us buying a house together.”
“Financially it makes sense.”
“But?” Sammy hesitated, because there was definitely a but. He looked over at you sitting beside him on the porch swing under the dim porch light and suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about how natural this felt. How easy just being there with you felt and how much he hated leaving at night now.
“We basically live together already,” he admitted quietly causing you to laugh softly before saying.
“That’s true.”
It hit him all at once. The late-night talks, the way he searched for you before anyone else every time he walked into a room, how hearing your laugh could fix the worst shift imaginable, and how you were the first person he wanted beside him when his life fell apart. That’s when a cold shiver shot up his spine despite the 70-degree heat of the outside. Oh no, he knew at that moment he was in trouble. Somewhere between funerals and patrol shifts and helping you grieve; Sammy Bryant had fallen in love with Sunny Moretta.
He wasn’t entirely sure you had or hadn’t fallen for him too and the realization terrified him. Not because he didn’t want it, but because he did. You were Nate’s sister; the most important person Nate ever protected besides his wife and children. And Sammy had already lost one Moretta, the idea of risking the other one felt unbearable.
“You okay?” You smiled, asking softly.
Sammy realized he’d been staring.
“Yeah.” He said looking away
“You sure?”
“No,” he admitted honestly laughing slightly.
Your expression softened immediately and God, that look was becoming dangerous.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Bryant?” You asked lightly tapping his forehead.
Everything, he wanted to say. Absolutely everything. But instead, he just shook his head and smiled faintly before saying.
“Just thinking.”
“Well stop. You’re bad at it.” You said nudging his shoulder gently with yours. He laughed again quietly. And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel forced.
******************************************************************************
The next two weeks became a strange mix of patrol shifts, house listings, and arguments over the phone with Tammi that left Sammy exhausted before his day even started and suddenly Sammy found himself spending every rare day off driving around neighborhoods with you in the passenger seat of his car criticizing landscaping like you were hosting a home renovation show professionally. It started innocently enough, one Zillow search here, one conversation over coffee there, then one joke from you about how every house in Los Angeles either belonged to a millionaire or a serial killer. the next Saturday started with you standing in Sammy’s kitchen stealing his coffee while criticizing his entire apartment…. Again.
“This place is depressing,” You announced as you leaned against the counter wearing jeans and one of Nate’s old sweatshirts.
“You say that every time you come over.” Sammy said as he glanced up from tying his boots.
“Because every time I come over it still looks like a divorced cop lives here.”
“A divorced cop does live here.”
“You have one framed picture and it’s crooked.” You said as you pointed dramatically toward the living room.
“It’s not crooked.” Sammy said as he stood up and squinted toward it.
“It absolutely is.”
“…Okay maybe a little.” He said as he stared at it for another second.
You smirked victoriously before taking another sip of his coffee like you owned the place. God. That should not have looked as domestic as it did. Sammy grabbed his keys quickly before his brain wandered somewhere dangerous again.
“You ready?”
Sunny nodded immediately.
“You got the listings?”
“Yeah.”
“Any haunted murder houses today?”
“We live in Los Angeles. They’re all haunted murder houses.” You laughed softly as you both headed for the door.
House hunting with you had quickly become Sammy’s favorite part of the week, not because he cared about crown molding or updated kitchens or whether a neighborhood school district ranked high online. But because for a few hours’ things felt normal again. He had no custody fears, no Tammi drama, no grief hanging over everybody like a storm cloud. Just you and him driving through Los Angeles making fun of terrible real estate photos and arguing over paint colors.
“You realize,” You told him as you scrolled through listings on your phone, “half these descriptions sound like threats.”
“Example?” Sammy asked while he drove one-handed while sipping coffee.
“‘Cozy fixer-upper with personality.’” You started.
“That means rats.”
“Exactly.” You scrolled again. “‘Charming vintage home.’”
“Lead paint.”
“‘Up-and-coming neighborhood.’”
“Active gang territory.” Sammy said instantly
You burst out laughing, Sammy grinned despite himself. There it was again, that dangerous feeling. Lately every moment with you felt effortless, like breathing, like home and he tried hard not to think about that. Especially because every now and then he would catch you looking at him in ways that make him wonder if you felt it too.
The first two houses were disasters. One smelled aggressively like mildew which you pointed out almost instantly, the other had carpeting in the bathroom which you had declared was “an act of violence.” By the third showing both of you were exhausted. Flopping dramatically against the passenger seat while Sammy pulled away from another overpriced nightmare, you let out a long breath and then said,
“I’m starting to think we should just buy a cave.”
You listened to Sammy laugh as he drove down the road. “Probably cheaper.”
“At least caves don’t have mirrored ceilings.”
That caused Sammy to nearly choke on his laughter.
“Who puts mirrors on ceilings?” He asked
“Rich people and serial killers.” You responded almost instantly not having to think about it at all, this just caused him to shake his head smiling before he said,
“You know, normal people don’t say half the things you say out loud.”
The words slipped out casually before you even had the chance to stop them. “That’s why you like me.”
You didn’t know it, but Sammy felt those words land deep in his chest anyway, because yeah. He did, way more than he should. Before he could respond and break the awkward silence that had landed above you two, you suddenly sat up straighter, staring at your phone.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” Sammy asked with a slightly startled tone.
“Pull over.”
“What?” He asked quietly
“Pull over!” You yelled smacking at his arm excitedly.
Sammy turned into a nearby parking lot quickly, while you were busy trying to shove the phone in his face excitedly. A massive Victorian-style house stood beneath huge oak trees, painted soft gray with white trim wrapping around an enormous porch, tall windows, turret corner, stained glass, old-fashioned detailing. The kind of place that looked completely out of time compared to the rest of Los Angeles, and you looked genuinely breathless as you said,
“Oh, I love this.”
Sammy studied the pictures again, and the house looked warm. Beautiful and old enough to feel lived in. Safe. You looked at him and then he turned to you and asked,
“You really like it.”
“I’m obsessed with it.” You told him excitedly.
“It kinda looks like your vibe.” Sammy said as he smiled faintly.
“My vibe?” You looked at him raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” He said starting the car again.
“What does that even mean?”
“You know.” He shrugged casually. “Books. Weird sweaters. Emotional damage. Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.”
You gasped dramatically, putting you hand to your chest as Sammy laughed.
“I am not emotionally damaged.”
Sammy smirked and just looked at you.
You paused and then smacked him on letting out a giggle.
“…Okay maybe a little.”
He laughed softly as you immediately went back to scrolling through the photos excitedly.
“Look at this kitchen.” You said excitedly
“The kitchen’s huge.” Sammy agreed
“And the staircase!”
“It’s definitely haunted.”
“I don’t care.” You said looking at him and laughing
You didn’t notice that Sammy had been watching you smile at the screen and suddenly found himself imagining you both living there, because you were already doing it. Curled up in one of those giant window seats reading, you yelling at him from the kitchen. Laughing while you sat on the porch, swing on that huge porch while he came home after shift. The image settled somewhere deep and dangerous inside you.
“You wanna go see it?” he asked quietly causing you to look over immediately with a smiled stretched a crossed your face.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
The smile that stretched crossed your face caused him to smile which caused your heart to flutter and your face to heat up not knowing that he was feeling little butterflies in his stomach.
******************************************************************************
As Sammy drove up to the Victorian sat on a quiet street lined with massive trees and older homes that somehow survived modernization. You fell in love before you even got out of the truck, staring upward as you exited the truck. The house somehow looked even better in person. Large wraparound porch, original stained-glass windows, the white porch swing hanging near the front steps. Looking at the house you felt like you would cry, this had to be a sign.
“Oh my God,” You whispered
You heard Sammy climb out of the truck slowly and noticed him watching you instead of looking at the house and flashing his trademark smile at you.
“You okay?” He asked.
“I think this house just healed something in me.” You looked at him still smiling.
He barked out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“No, Sammy, look at it.” You said running up to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the driveway. When you were satisfied that he was in a good spot you let go of his hand and spun slowly in the driveway with the first smile you’ve had in weeks on your face. A real smile, not the careful version she’d worn lately to keep everybody else comfortable and safe. And suddenly Sammy realized he’d do almost anything to keep seeing that look on her face, that realization scared the hell out of him. The realtor approached while you wandered toward the porch almost reverently. Sammy followed quietly behind you. Inside was even better. Original hardwood floors, tall ceilings, built-in bookshelves for your many books and Knick knacks. Sunlight pouring through antique windows.
“This is unreal.” You said out loud as you ran your fingers along the staircase railing. And something shifted painfully in Sammys chest without you knowing. Because without even trying, she already belonged here.
“This room could be an office,” you said excitedly as you wandered into one of the downstairs rooms yelling behind you as Sammy leaned against the doorway unbeknownst to you just watching you smiling.
“Or a nursery.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. You froze briefly, then slowly looked back at him. The air around you shifted instantly, too intimate, too honest.
“I just meant….” Sammy said as he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I know what you meant.” You said softly.
He held your gaze and never looked away until his phone suddenly rang loudly. You saw him look at the caller id and realized it must be Tammi. The moment shattered immediately as you stepped back quietly and told him,
“You should answer.”
Sammy nodded reluctantly and walked toward the front porch. He looks exhausted lately, like every conversation with her costs him something now. He walks toward the front porch while you stay near the foyer pretending not to listen. The second he answers, his voice comes out rough.
“What?”
It was definitely Tammi. Even from several feet away you can hear how calm she sounds compared to him her voice coming through the phone all too loudly.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Sammy lets out a humorless laugh under his breath.
“Sammy.”
You lean lightly against the wall and you can almost feel how he rubs a hand over his face. He’s been doing that a lot lately, like maybe if he presses hard enough, he can wipe away the stress.
“What do you want Tammi?” he asks tiredly. A pause follows, then his shoulders go stiff as you hear her response,
“If you apologize to Victor, I’ll agree to the paternity test.”
You close your eyes for a second. Jesus Christ, you think she can’t be serious. You can hear Sammy go completely still out on the porch.
“You cannot be serious.”
“He feels like you hate him.”
Sammy laughs again, quieter this time. Bitter enough that it twists something painfully in your chest.
“He slept with my wife.”
“He loves me.”
Something about those words changed the air. It wasn’t explosive anymore, just final. Tammi has chosen, and looking at Sammy stare out into the quiet neighborhood, you realize maybe some part of him already knew that.
“You want me to apologize to your boyfriend,” he says flatly.
“For the hostility.”
You can physically see the exhaustion and irritation settling deeper into him with every second of this conversation.
“You know what’s crazy?” he says finally, voice quieter now. “I probably still would’ve tried to make things work if you’d just told me the truth.” That one hits hard enough that even you look away and Tammi goes silent.
“And now?”
Sammy turns slightly then, glancing back through the stained-glass doorway seeing you. You’d been standing there moments earlier talking softly with the realtor while sunlight poured through the foyer windows. The house felt warm for the first time all day and for a split second his expression softens in a way that catches you off guard.
“…Now I don’t even know who we are anymore.” You hear Tammi inhale shakily through the phone. “But Victor’s been there for me, and you haven’t.”
Sammy lowers his head slightly after that, and somehow that hurts worse than if they’d started screaming. The job has been hollowing him out for years, Shift after shift. The shootings, Dead kids, long nights creating A thousand little fractures that eventually became a broken marriage neither of them knew how to fix anymore. You had seen it with Nate and Mariella in the first few years of marriage but thankfully after marriage counseling Nate learned to compartmentalize, and Mariella learned that sometimes it’s a thankless job to just be happy he came home. But none of that excuses what she did to him either. Seven months of lying, cheating, treating him like crap.
“I was trying to survive too, Tammi.” He said and then the silence stretches again.
“I was too?”
You watch Sammy’s jaw tighten, and for the first time since this entire nightmare started, you see genuine fear flicker across his face, because beneath all of it, the possibility that the baby might be his matters more to him than pride ever could.
“…Yeah,” he mutters finally. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll apologize to Victor.”
The call ends a few seconds later, but Sammy doesn’t move. He just stands there staring out at the street like the weight of everything finally settled onto his shoulders all at once. You wait a moment before quietly opening the front door and stepping outside beside him. The early evening air feels cool against your skin. Honestly, he looks so exhausted you’re not even sure what to say. So instead, you just stand next to him in silence for a second, the late afternoon breeze moved strands of her hair while the old porch swing creaked gently nearby.
“You okay?” You asked him softly
He lets out a quiet laugh under his breath. “Nope.” And somehow that honest answer hurts more than anything else.
“She thinks I hurt Victor’s feelings.”
Sunny looked genuinely offended on his behalf.
“She really said that? That’s insane.”
“Probably.” Sammy said laughing tiredly.
You step closer beside Sammy, leaning lightly against the porch railing. For a second neither of you says anything. The neighborhood is quiet around you. Somewhere down the street a dog barks. Wind moves softly through the trees lining the sidewalk. Everything feels strangely normal compared to the conversation he just had.
“You’d really do it?” you ask quietly.
Sammy keeps staring out toward the street.
“If it gets me answers and possibly my kid?” he says tiredly looking at you. “Yeah.”
And just like that, your chest aches for him all over again. Because underneath sarcasm and anger and exhaustion, this isn’t really about pride anymore. It’s fear, real solid fear.
“I already missed seven months,” Sammy admits quietly. “What if its mine and she keeps the baby away from me?”
The words hit you harder than expected, because there it is. The thing he’s been trying not to say out loud. Sammy Bryant is terrified and not for himself, for his child.
“You’d be a good father; there’s no one on this earth that would keep your kid from you.” you say softly.
“Feels like I already screwed this one up.” Sammy laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it.
“You didn’t even know and you still don’t.” You told him.
You study him carefully while the breeze moves loose strands of hair across your face. And suddenly you remember something Nate used to say all the time.
“You want to know what Nate used to say about you?” you ask quietly.
“Depends.” Sammy says glancing over slightly with a smirk on his face.
A faint smile tugs at your mouth.
“He said you cared too much.”
That surprises him immediately.
“Nate said that?”
“All the time.” You smile softly at the memory. “He used to complain that you took everything home with you.”
Sammy looks down briefly.
“Guess he was right.”
“So, stop punishing yourself for caring now.” You tell him as you take another small step closer before you can overthink it.
Sammy swallows hard. “You make it really difficult to stay miserable.”
“Good.” You said a soft laugh leaving your lips before you can stop it.
For a moment neither of you move, then Sammy’s eyes drop briefly to your mouth before he catches himself, and your breath stutters immediately, because you notice, and he knows you notice. The silence stretches painfully between you.
“There you two are!” the realtor calls loudly from inside the house. “You should see the garage!”
The tension shatters instantly. You step back quickly while Sammy clears his throat roughly.
“Yeah,” he mutters awkwardly. “Garage.”
But later that night, lying awake in bed staring at the ceiling, you can’t stop thinking about the look on his face. About how scared he was. About the fact he’d swallow every ounce of pride he had if it meant being in his child’s life. And worse, you can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you on that porch. Like maybe you were becoming something steady for him like maybe he wasn’t alone anymore. And honestly? That terrifies you too.
******************************************************************************
The process of buying the Victorian, as you and Sammy have taken to calling it, quickly becomes one of the most stressful experiences of your life. Which honestly says a lot considering you’re also currently applying to the LAPD academy. Within days, Mariella’s dining room table disappears beneath mountains of paperwork. Loan applications, inspection reports, escrow documents, financial statements. Every flat surface in the house looks like a mortgage office exploded across it. One evening you sit cross-legged in the middle of the chaos wearing reading glasses while glaring at another stack of forms.
“I hate everything.” You said exhaustedly. Across from you, Sammy glances at you as he signs another document without even reading it.
“You’ve said that six times.”
“Because they keep inventing new paperwork.”
Sammy snorts softly before saying,
“I think California legally requires emotional suffering before you can own property.”
“And why do they need six years of bank statements?” You ask as you point your pen at him dramatically.
“Because they enjoy pain.” He said, staring at your face.
You snort at his answer before responding,
“Yeah, well they aren’t the only ones but still.”
You nearly dropped your pen. everything in that moment paused as you stopped moving, feeling your face heat up before you slowly glanced up at him. Seeing his eyes darken you quickly glanced away as Mariella walks through carrying laundry and smirks the second she looks between the two of you.
“You two sound married already.”
Across from you, Sammy coughs awkwardly into his fist while Mariella keeps walking like she didn’t just throw a grenade into the room.
“Just saying.”
The silence afterward feels painfully loud. You suddenly become very interested in your paperwork while Sammy rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. Finally, he mutters,
“She’s enjoying this way too much.”
“Yeah.” You laugh nervously agreeing with him. But the comment sticks with you anyway, because the terrifying part is how natural all of this feels lately between you two. House hunting together, late-night paperwork sessions, cooking dinner because Sammy will survive entirely on coffee and gas station food if left unsupervised. Talking about furniture, talking about the baby. Talking about the future like you already expect each other to be there and somewhere along the way, you stop questioning it. That should scare you more than it does. Instead, it settles warmly somewhere deep in your chest. Dangerous, very dangerous.
******************************************************************************
A week later you meet with the home inspector at the Victorian, and somehow you fall in love with the place all over again. The wraparound porch, the stained-glass windows glowing gold in the afternoon sunlight. The massive staircase straight out of another century, the whole place feels warm in a way you can’t explain. Safe, like somewhere people heal instead of falling apart. The inspector disappears upstairs muttering something about plumbing while Sammy stands in the middle of the empty living room staring up at the ceiling. You wander toward one of the tall windows smiling softly.
“You okay?” Sammy asked, glancing over immediately.
“I’m happy. I still can’t believe this is real.” The answer slips out before you can stop it.
Both of you look slightly startled by the honesty of it. Because happiness has felt unfamiliar ever since Nate died. Everything since then has existed in muted shades of grey, grief, exhaustion, survival. But this? This feels bright, and hopeful, and when you look over at Sammy, his entire expression softens while he watches you.
“Bathroom window sticks a little!” the inspector yells from upstairs.
Sammy calls back automatically.
“Okay.”
You smile softly watching him, and suddenly the realization hits you so hard it nearly steals your breath. Oh no. No, no, no. Because the truth arrives all at once. You’re falling in love with him. Not grief attachment, not loneliness. Real love. Your stomach flips violently and Sammy notices immediately.
“What?”
“What?” You ask blinking quickly.
“You made a face.”
“I did not.” You say and turn away quickly pretending to examine the built-in bookshelves.
“You absolutely did.” He told you
“Maybe I’m having a stroke.”
“That seems dramatic.” He said with a laugh.
You laugh despite yourself, but your pulse still won’t slow down, because now that you’ve realized it, you can’t unsee it. Every late-night conversation suddenly feels different. Every instinct to call Sammy first when something happens, every time his laugh makes you feel lighter. Every time you wait for the sound of his truck pulling into the driveway. Oh God. You’re in trouble, real trouble. And somehow the worst part isn’t that you love him. It’s that you’re starting to think he might love you too.
******************************************************************************
Three days later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Victorian surrounded by paperwork when the front door suddenly opens. The second Sammy walks inside; you stand immediately and ask.
“What happened?”
He looks overwhelmed. Not bad overwhelmed. Emotionally wrecked overwhelmed.
“Sammy?” You say again
He stares at you for one long second before laughing shakily, smiling.
“It’s mine.”
You blink.
“What?”
“The baby.” His voice cracks slightly. “It’s mine and it’s a boy.”
“Oh my God.” You say your entire chest soften instantly.
Sammy drags both hands over his face while laughing again in disbelief and says,
“I’m gonna be somebody’s dad again.”
Before you can think better of it, you run across the room and wrap your arms tightly around him. Sammy freezes briefly before holding onto you just as tightly, and neither of you lets go right away. You can actually feel him shaking slightly, not from fear. From pure raw emotion.
“I was so scared that he wasn’t mine.” he admits quietly against your hair.
Something cracks painfully open in your chest hearing that, because Sammy spends so much time pretending he’s fine that moments like this feel unbearably raw. Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, and there it is again That terrifying feeling. Because suddenly you realize something else, the first person he wanted when his entire world changed…Was you. Your heartbeat stumbles hard at that moment feeling the electricity running through you.
“You’re gonna be okay,” you whisper softly as he laughs shakily.
“Yeah?”
As you two broke apart you didn’t realize Sammy had zoned out and by the time you caught on you had been halfway through a whole conversation.
“…and Mariella thinks the upstairs room should probably— Sammy?” you say getting his attention.
He blinks quickly. “What?”
“You stopped listening.” You said to him, narrowing your eyes immediately.
“Sorry.”
“You okay?”
No. You can practically see the panic happening behind his eyes, because he’s staring at you like he’s dangerously close to doing something reckless. Instead, he clears his throat awkwardly.
“You said something about the upstairs room.”
You study him suspiciously before nodding slowly.
“Right. Mariella thinks one of the upstairs rooms would make a good nursery.”
The word lands differently now, everything suddenly feels real. The baby, the house, the future, the two of you. Sammy looks quietly around the empty living room while afternoon sunlight spills through stained glass onto the hard wood floors.
“You still love it?” he asks you softly.
“I really do.” You say as you smile immediately.
And something in his expression settles after that. Peace maybe, hope. You walk toward the staircase excitedly.
“I’ve been thinking maybe the office could go downstairs and the upstairs room near the windows could be yours for the baby when you have custody—”
Then you stop again because Sammy is staring at you again and you frown slightly.
“What?”
He looks almost overwhelmed by something. You realize suddenly what you said. “When you have custody”. Not if. Like you already believe he’ll be part of the baby’s life, like you already see yourself standing beside him through it.
“You have that weird emotionally constipated look again,” you tease softly.
“That’s not a thing.” Sammy barks out letting out a laugh.
“Oh, it absolutely is.” You tell him as you smile before sitting back down among the paperwork.
“Speaking of life-changing decisions…”
Sammy drops down beside you.
“What?”
You hesitate briefly before handing him the packet. The second he reads the top page, his expression changes. LAPD Academy Application. He looked up at you immediately.
“You’re really serious.”
You nod slowly and say. “I think I am, it’s still up in the air. I could do something completely different.”
Fear flashes instantly across his face. And you know why. Nate. Funerals. Patrol cars. Phone calls that ruin lives forever. But then Sammy looks at you again, and slowly his expression softens.
“You’d be good at it,” he says quietly reiterating back to that afternoon on Marielles porch.
You blink looking astonished.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You care too much not to be.” He said his voice was turning gentle.
“Well,” you say softly, “good thing we already bought a haunted Victorian house together.”
The words hit harder than they should, because for a second, he’s looking at you with so much warmth it almost steals your breath completely. Neither of you moves as the air shifts again. Dangerously. Then finally you smile faintly. Sammy laughs quietly, and somewhere between the sunlight, the paperwork, the baby, and the future unfolding around both of you, and you realize something terrifying. You’re already in love with him.
