15
The next thing Dillon knew, Olivia was kneeling by his pallet. Maud stood in the doorway, not exactly frowning. Just being Maud. Which was definitely an improvement.
“You snore,” Olivia told him.
“That’s why you woke me up? To say I’m making noise?”
“This goes way beyond noise,” she replied. “Sit up and take this.”
“This” was a steaming mug. The smell of coffee pushed him upright. “I could use another couple of hours.”
Maud asked, “What time did you finish last night?” “I didn’t check the clock. Late.” He realized a pair of blankets were tangled about his form. “Where did these come from?”
“The Christmas elf,” Maud replied, and started back down the corridor. “You’ve got twenty minutes.”
He asked Olivia, “What’s happening?”
“Things have been kicked up a level.” Olivia rose to her feet. “Better get a move on.”
Dillon entered the station’s main room to the sound of laughter defying the day’s gray light. Porter and the fire chief and a younger officer stood with their backs to him, blocking Dillon’s view of whoever was causing the mirth. Olivia stood by the kitchenette’s entry, smiling and . . .
Happy.
Her face shone with a light that took him straight back. The young lady at her best was visible again, a magical California sprite who could light up the darkest hour. Turn a troubled young man from the problems and worries that dwelled in his home and heart. Fill him with a momentary joy over simply being alive and in her company.
He stood there at the periphery of whatever was happening. His mind flashed back to the first time he had seen her as more than just the childhood pal from down the hill. Olivia had been a year ahead of him in school, as her birthday was two weeks over the boundary line and his was three weeks behind. Something she loved to bring up, how she was the elder in their relationship. On that particular day, Dillon had entered the school and not seen her, but rather how all the faces within view were aimed in the same direction. They had seemed to reflect a magical illumination, and a desire to capture the flame.
But she had chosen him, the kid with no future.
Occasionally he had become captured by the fear that Olivia chose him simply because he needed her more than anyone else. Which had been both shameful and true . . .
Then the group shifted position, and Dillon’s focus shifted to the woman who held their attention.
Growing up, Bailey Long had been the woman named most likely to do whatever she wanted in life. In Bailey’s case, it was stay in Miramar and take care of whatever needed doing. Lead from the front, that was Bailey in a nutshell.
Their senior year was also the point when Bailey had fallen head over heels in love with Dillon’s best friend.
Dillon had often thought Griff Gaines was an odd choice as Bailey’s lifetime mate. Griff was as easygoing as Bailey was intense. A good-natured fellow who could stop any schoolyard battle with a smile. Which was how they had been brought together, after Griff had been named the school’s head marshal. Griff and Dillon had both found the appointment hilarious, seeing as how they had played a lead role in so many earlier pranks. But Griff had grown into the position, bringing an astonishing level of peace and harmony to their final year. Especially after he and Bailey hooked up, and Griff was given another reason to outgrow his Peter Pan years.
Porter said, “I don’t guess introductions are needed.”
“Long time, Dillon,” Bailey said. “You look . . .”
“Strung out and battered,” Dillon suggested, and accepted a refreshed mug.
“I was going to say, all grown up. But I suppose your words will do.”
“Sort of defines the season,” Maud offered. Olivia said, “The diner’s brought us a plate of breakfast burritos.”
“Which the chief wanted to snarf, right down to the very last crumb,” Charlie said.
“Now we both know that’s not true,” Porter said. “I was only kidding about that last one.”
“I had to beat him off with a rolling pin,” Maud said.
Bailey had the remarkable ability to stand at the center of everything, and yet remain politely distant. Her expression took Dillon straight back, the smile, the piercing gaze, the quiet authority. Dillon had always thought of her as a general in waiting. Never more than now. He accepted a still-warm burrito and asked, “Why am I here?”
* * *
