22
Berto Acosta stepped into the station’s front room, his demeanor almost jolly. Any hint of reserve he might have felt over Dillon’s terms was lost to the anticipation of putting things into motion. Bailey called the fire chief, then told Dillon to hurry on over to the station, as Charlie Hurst was there and waiting.
Olivia watched.
When it was just the two of them, Bailey showed no interest in setting her own day into motion. Instead, she said, “Dillon’s idea is a good one.”
“It’s better than that,” Olivia replied. “It brings together strands of my life and my past that . . .”
“What?”
She took a long breath. “I arrived back thinking my future was in grave peril. If I had any future at all.”
Bailey tilted her head to one side, as if needing to inspect Olivia from a different angle. “You don’t mind losing your home?”
Olivia shook her head. “The day after I arrived, Dillon took me up there.”
“In Porter’s pickup. I heard.”
“I couldn’t go in.”
Bailey nodded. “The damage.”
“No. Well, yes, I suppose, in a way. But it was mostly the memories. They crowded me out.”
“Terrible thing, memories,” Bailey said. “And all the regret they carry.”
“That too.”
“And now?”
Olivia felt time slow. There in Bailey’s gaze was a glint of something new. Fear, perhaps. Tension. And . . .
With a start, Olivia understood.
Bailey was in love. With Dillon Farrow. The man Olivia once claimed as her very own.
The realization lanced her, such that Olivia drew in a sharp breath. It was crazy, thinking she could read the other woman’s mind. And yet, what she most felt was a burning sense of release.
Moving forward.
Olivia replied, “My mother would be absolutely beside herself with joy over Dillon’s plan.”
“Really?”
Olivia nodded slowly. Not so much in agreement as knowing that if it was going to be said, she would have to do the saying. “Dillon is a wonderful man.”
Her statement was enough to reveal the woman’s nerves. “And you two . . .”
“We have turned the page.” Olivia gave each word a quiet emphasis. “Dillon and I are friends for life. And that’s all. Who we were, what we meant to each other, that is finished.” She started to add,and almost finished us in the process.But there would be other times to relive the battles and the sparks and the shame it all now caused. So she simply said, “We were different people then. For better or worse, we’ve changed.”
Bailey tasted several responses before asking, “Is he really who he appears to be?”
Olivia did not pretend at misunderstanding. “Dillon has gone through the fire. No question.” It was her turn to stare at the empty doorway. “The events that brought him back here also broke him, at least partly. But so far all I can see . . .”
A whispered, “Tell me.”
“The rage that powered him forward is gone. I’m not sure what fills that void in his life, or whether the anger and frustration and desire for battle will ever return. There’s no way of knowing.” She felt her eyes burn at the memories. And the regret. She swallowed hard, pushed it all back, crammed it down tight inside. Breathed. And went on, “He always had a gentle streak. Now that’s all I see in him. The tenderness he’s shown me, the way he’s looked out for what I need, what’s best . . .”
