Sam glances over at Andy, who's staring out the window, her jaw clenched. He doesn't have to see her eyes to know they have the same hard expression they've had for the past week, radiating anger to anyone who dares look too close.
He'd say "I told you so" but he's not that petty, even if this weren't Andy, the woman he loves more than life itself. He wishes instead that she had taken his advice about Luke, had broken up with the detective before she got too deep. But it's Andy, and advice on one's love life isn't the part of his training she paid attention to.
She notices his glance. "What?" It's sharp, biting, a minefield waiting for him.
"Nothing," he says with a little shake of his head, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. He'd offer her a hug but she wouldn't take it right now anyway. She'd probably punch him. He cocks his head, a new idea coming to mind. It just might work. He'd have to hope it did; there was only so long that he could stand to watch her hurting like this. Now to find the right time to try it…