"I just want to make a pot of coffee, relax, and wait for my wife to come home, and explain herself." Richard was way too exhausted, and hurt too damned bad to be diplomatic anymore. A night in the hospital didn't do anything to improve his outlook either.

He was sore, and had been poked, and prodded and he was in no mood for civil conversation. If Sheri didn't have an awfully good explanation for why she'd never shown up at her mother's like she said she was going to, and where she'd been while he was having near death experiences she was going to be taking a long, lonely walk.

Marie sat across the counter in the breakfast nook, and watched as he peeled off a filter. She jumped when the front door opened, and slammed shut. Richard just growled.

"Richie?" Sheri's voice rang through the house.

"Richie?" Marie mimicked with a laugh.

"Shut up." Richard threw down the filter and gave Marie a warning glance.

He stomped past Marie as she clenched her lips to hold back the giggles. Richard squinted in aggravation at her, and stormed right into his wife as she walked through the kitchen door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Richard heaved in great gulps of air in an attempt to control what was left of his temper.

Sheri looked scared to death. Well, at least she was getting a taste of what he'd been feeling lately.