Page 3 of Last Chance Christmas

“Junior.” Meg cleared her throat. “Good to see you.”

Olivia heard him start explaining what it was and stepped into the kitchen. The raccoon had a package of cookies open and was enjoying his treat. She grabbed her radio and called in the need for animal control.

“Understood, unit twelve. Hang tight and I’ll get you an ETA.”

“Thanks. Twelve out.” She stepped out of the kitchen, back into the hall.

Meg let out an adorable sound, like a giggle but more mature. It had a light quality to it.

When Olivia laughed it sounded like a choking snort, so she tried not to laugh aloud if she could help it. Most times she settled for a grin. But when was there all that much to laugh about?

It wasn’t like her life had been fun and games, with her mom working all hours to take care of her and trying to manage being a somewhat-functional alcoholic at the same time. The community in Benson had treated them like white trash, and the churches her mom sent her to—so she could get free childcare—hadn’t exactly been welcoming. The other kids hadn’t played with her. Not even when their moms weren’t around.

Olivia found a chair and wedged the kitchen door shut so the raccoon couldn’t escape. Animal control needed to remove the thing and release it somewhere it could thrive. With Junior and Meg still making awkward small talk, she went to the front window and looked out.

From here she could see a few streets over, where the roof of Eastside Firehouse stretched above the new gas station roof. Her own kind of addiction, proving she wasn’t so different from her mother. She had things she wanted that weren’t good for her.

Olivia’s life was about keeping things tight. Maintaining control at all times so that no one could look at her or treat her like people had when she was growing up. The less people knew about who she was and where she’d come from, the better.

Her radio crackled. “Unit twelve, this is dispatch. Animal control will be to your location in ten minutes. Advise the owner to clear out and secure the structure.”

Olivia wanted to ask why but wasn’t going to interrupt.

The dispatcher continued, “Reports of shots fired and a traffic collision on highway, mile marker six.”

And they were closest.

She spun around. “Junior!”

“I heard it.”

Olivia grabbed her radio. “Unit twelve responding.”

“Confirmed, twelve. Dispatch out.”

She heard him giving Meg instructions, and then he appeared in the main café room. “She’s going to wait in her car.”

“Good.” Olivia caught the door and held it open for Junior. She made sure it was shut, and they raced to the squad car.

Junior got to the driver’s side first and climbed in.

They peeled out, lights and sirens going. Olivia said, “Shots fired and a traffic collision?” That would mean more than just them responding. Probably the fire department, though it would be up to Olivia and Junior to contain the situation.

Not that she knew if Izan was even on duty tonight.

She might not see him at all.

But there was a big difference between what Olivia Tazwell wanted and what she usually got.

Two

Izan Collins stepped back and admired his handiwork. “It’s perfect.”

The three-foot-tall Christmas tree stood in the corner of the men’s bunk room, between the end of Izan’s bunkbed—he had the lower bed, Zack took the upper—and the wall. In addition, he’d strung up Christmas lights around the room, tacking them on the wall with about a hundred pieces of tape.

Decorating the firehouse didn’t happen all in one day, and he liked to draw the season out as long as he could. Wring out every ounce of Christmas cheer. Bask in the music, the fun, all the parties and extra events. Go to the church services and kids’ concerts.

All of it.