Brian was staring into the refrigerator hoping for inspiration on what to have for dinner when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the display as he pulled it from his pocket. It was Tristan’s number. The one that had been so hard to get.
“I really hope you’re calling to tell me you’re okay,” answered Brian.
“I’m fine. No shooting at all. Just some running and a little wrestling to get the handcuffs on one guy.”
“Good. I’m relieved.”
“It’s been a while since…” Tristan’s voice trailed off.
“Anybody asked you to report in like a sixteen-year-old that borrowed the car?” Brian suggested. There was a light snort of amusement from the other end.
“Actually…since anybody cared,” Tristan said softly. “Thank you.”
