Shattered

•Ten•

A/N: I'm really curious, how old are you?  Just wondering how old the readers of this story are!  I'm interested!

NOW

I had to get out of the house. Nothing was making sense. I grabbed my purse and flew out the door, smacking into Tom who was about to knock.

"Sorry!" I caught myself against him, gripping his biceps. "I mean, why are you here?"

Tom apologized and I removed my hands, stepping back.

"You left so fast, I forgot I had a favor to ask of you and we still haven't exchanged numbers."

"Aren't you supposed to be training someone right now?"

Tom shrugged. "I canceled. I wanted to catch you before Jack got home."

"Tom, you and I aren't supposed to be friends, are we?" I crossed my arms and waited for a reply.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and thought carefully. "No. Jack doesn't like me."

"How come?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that right now, Christine. Honestly. You're extremely fragile right now and I'm terrified of breaking you but I can't stay away. I tried, but even after everything, even if you never gain your memories back, I will always be your friend and I will always be here for you."

"Tom, why doesn't Jack like you?" His answer wasn't good enough. I was tired of being babied, like I was a thin sheet of glass taking on a hurricane.

Tom crossed his arms, mirroring me and grunted under his breath.

"Fine," I shook my head. "I'll just ask him later. Of course, he'll be curious as to why I'm asking about you, which means I'd have to be truthful and let him know I've been running into you." I raised my brows, hoping he'd get the point.

"Christine." He bit his bottom lip and uncrossed his arms, stepping closer. "Trust me, you don't want to do that."

"And why not?" I was becoming impatient.

His gaze fluttered to my lips and quickly returned to my eyes. He was intense, the way his brows hung over like he was mad but really he was just deep in thought. How did I know his facial expressions so well? I was tired of not knowing how I knew such things.

On the road, a car drove past, slowly, breaking the tension.

"Tom," I huffed, exasperated, "why are you here?"

"I have to leave town for a few days." He had no problem answering that one.

"Oh?"

"My usual dog sitter is suddenly unavailable to take care of Sammy and I can't take him with. I'll be busy with the tournament."

"Oh, I see. Well, I don't think I know anyone who could do it... maybe Grace, I can call her if you'd like?"

A smile slowly spread across his face and he chuckled and looked away. Returning his eyes to me he said, "I was hoping you could. Sammy knows you, he loves you. And it'd give you a place to escape for the weekend."

"You want me to stay there?"

"No, no, I'm not asking that. I mean, you could if you wanted to, but I know that'd be impossible. Just check on him every few hours or so. A walk or two a day, make sure he's fed and has water. He's not high maintenance at all. Sure, he'd love for you to spend the weekend with him, but no, that's not what I'm asking."

The same car that drove by a second ago came back, this time going the other direction. They always slowed as they passed in front of my house. I looked over Tom's shoulder and I tried to make out the driver but the distance was too far. Tom turned to watch as well. The driver picked up speed and left.