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The words seem to just fall from my mouth, and even though they come straight from my heart, I instantly wish them back.

I don’t think the timing is right for big declarations like that right now. I should’ve held off. Rick’s mother is still in the hospital, and his sisters stuck around to take her back home when she’s released. They were able to get the one available room at The Carriage House, the bed-and-breakfast where the FBI team has been staying, because I still can’t return to my house, so Rick and I are staying in his apartment for now.

Then there are the looming interviews with the FBI today, both for Rick and myself. When Mancuso showed at the hospital last night, we quickly took Rick’s sisters out of the room to let them in on what happened, while the agent asked Theresa a few questions. He asked us to come into the sheriff’s office today for our statements.

A lot is happening, emotions are high, and I know all of it weighs on Rick’s mind, so it’s not fair of me to drop something heavy like, “I love you,” on him at the crack of dawn.

“Mmm,” he hums, as he slowly disengages, dropping a kiss on my shoulder in the process. “I’m going to hop in the shower real quick, and then I’ll put on some coffee while you have yours.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

Maybe he didn’t hear me.

One can hope.

I stretch, limbering up my body before I swing my legs out of bed as I hear the shower turn on in the adjacent bathroom. Last night I didn’t have much of a chance to look around Rick’s bedroom—it was late and we were both so exhausted, we simply tumbled into bed—but I’m taking this opportunity to investigate a little.

Talking with his sisters last night, I got to see yet another side of Rick. One who loves his sisters, but is equally exasperated by them. Quietly so—for the most part—he doesn’t speak out much but rolls his eyes and shakes his head a lot. It was pretty cute. The sisters, in turn, have no problem voicing their opinions. Even Isabel, the more laid-back of the two, doesn’t seem afraid to share her thoughts.

I learned that Julia is a corporate lawyer, which seemed to fit her, and married with one teenage daughter. Isabel is also married, she has two boys and one girl, and is a graphic designer. The sisters are as different as they can be, except when it comes to their love for family.

Julia came across as blunt and somewhat unforgiving at first, but after spending some time observing her last night, I recognized a lot of that was her way of caring. She reminds me a little of my mother, who could be direct like that. Her younger sister is the more openly affectionate and emotional one, which is perhaps why Rick seems closer with her. He and Julia are too much alike, both carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders and feeling responsible for, and protective of, those they love.

Those two butt heads, which became clear when we tried to share the events from earlier in the day. Like a true lawyer, Julia interrupted with sharp questions every minute, which clearly got on Rick’s nerves. Isabel would then intervene, trying to put herself up as a buffer between the other siblings.

To someone who grew up without siblings, it was fascinating to observe this interesting family dynamic playing out in front of me. I get the sense not a lot has changed over the years, and I could easily imagine them growing up, having similar interactions and discussions. But even the conflict seemed filtered through caring.

I felt a bit like an outsider, looking in on something I’d imagined often when I was younger. This comfortable familiarity, the easy banter, the instinctive camaraderie, the unconditional love, these are all things I’d craved growing up.

I put on a pair of boxers from Rick’s dresser drawer, and find a flannel shirt in the closet I shrug into. Then I return to the dresser to more closely examine the picture frames set on top. There are some snapshots of a much younger Rick hamming it up with buddies on a beach somewhere, sitting proudly behind the wheel of an older model Corvette, with his arms wrapped around his mother and sisters in front of a Christmas tree.

But the one I pick up is of a little girl with dark curls and bright blue eyes, just like her daddy, who has her up on his shoulders. She’s holding on to his hair, which looks a little painful, but both are wearing big smiles.

I feel the tickle of tears burning my eyes when I think about the pain this family has suffered at that little girl’s loss.

“I swear, those little fists left bald spots on my head,” I hear from behind me.

He surrounds me with his arms and looks over my shoulder at the picture in my hand.

“This was her on her third birthday. Isabel snapped this picture at the petting zoo we took her to. Charlie was laughing at the baby goats, and her giggle was infectious. I can still hear her when I look at this picture. It was a good day, and one of my best memories.”

This isn’t helping my emotions, which now freely run down my face.

“Baby…” he mumbles, turning me around in his arms, the picture frame pressed between my chest and his.

I shove my wet face into his clean shirt.

“I’m sorry. It just breaks my heart.”

“Yeah.” He holds me for a moment, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Why don’t you hop in the shower. I’ll make coffee.”

No sooner has he left the room, when the doorbell rings. I can hear him and his sisters bickering as they enter the apartment, and I quickly dart into the bathroom.

It’s Sunday morning, and I don’t have the foggiest idea what today is going to bring. For someone whose life up until the past few months has been steady and predictable, it’s a big change, but I don’t mind.

I step under the hot shower wearing a big smile of my own.

Rick