Chapter 8

eight

SYDNEY

Despite his talk about spending the night, Dennis does not, in fact, stay over. We fall asleep talking about Florida and how his parents like it, at least, I fall asleep, and when I wake up, there is a note on my pillow that if I want my house keys back, I will have to find him.

I know exactly where I’ll find him when I report my keys missing at the police station. I take my time getting ready, applying my red lipstick carefully, then put on a sneaky pair of leggings that look like tights matched with a short skirt and a sweater. I actually have the day off, which is a nice start to the new week after having to open earlier than normal for the crazies that went Black Friday shopping.

As I walk into town, signs of Christmas are popping up everywhere I look. Storefronts have begun to decorate for the annual window contest. Fire hydrants have bows attached to them all, which honestly feels like it should be some sort of violation, and apparently, now we have loudspeakers that can play music throughout town.

I’m trying to figure out where the sound is coming from when I spot Wolensky pushing one of his thirty kids in a stroller. He gestures at the fake rock speaker tucked under a bush.

“Cool, right? The mayor thought that it would be a good idea if we could play Christmas music all through town to really help the tourists feel the holiday spirit.”

“Sounds like a licensing violation and a nuisance to people who live on this street.”

“Right, well, you have a good day, Sydney. I’ll see you tomorrow for the new holiday flavors. Gotta beat those red cup assholes, am I right?”

Wolensky has always been far too cheerful for my liking, so I give him what I hope passes for a grin and not a grimace.

“Right, you know we appreciate you down at Sips, Deputy.”

The man ruffles my hair like I’m one of his kids and apparently, the look on my face gives it away. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Have a good one, Sydney.”

He practically runs off and I can’t blame him. I manage to make the rest of my trip to the precinct unaccosted. It doesn’t mean that I wasn’t personally offended by all the decorations making themselves known all around town. I will say, I’m grateful that they at least held off decorating until after Thanksgiving. The same way Black Friday sales have nudged their way earlier and earlier, attempts at decorating for Christmas have done the same. There may have been one particularly drunken night in college when I actually popped a premature Frosty blow-up. In my defense, what does anyone in Florida know about snow?

All over, capitalists are trying to do what they can to drive the holiday earlier and earlier. Even the receptionist at the police station has a cutesy mug with candy canes sticking out of it and a wreath hanging in front of her desk. I breeze past while her back is turned. I’m not entirely sure if what I’m doing is illegal, but I’m pretty sure it’s not .

I spot the back of Dennis’s head. He’s bent over what I assume is paperwork but could be anything. He wasn’t kidding about liking Christmas. There’s a garland of stars that hang off the ceiling over his desk.

I give brief smiles to anyone I manage to make eye contact with. I have a decent view of his desk as I approach. It’s very basic. His keyboard covers a large desk calendar that has a giant wreath around the 25th of December. He has an ergonomic mouse and a picture frame, making me wonder who is in the photo. He’s organized, but that doesn’t surprise me. There is a mug noting that he won the snowman building contest last year, which I make a mental note to razz him about later.

“I would like to report a crime,” I say slowly before coming around to his side of the desk so I can lean against it. Dennis lifts his head, relaxing back in his chair so he can look up at me. He gives me this mischievous smile, and for what might be the first time, I notice a dimple on his cheek. Who is this man with blue eyes and dimples and why is he trying to work his way into my heart?

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry to hear that. Can you tell me what occurred?” He puts his pen down and faces me with all the earnest concern he must be able to muster without breaking a smile.

“For starters, the guy I’m sleeping with called me ‘ma’am,’ which makes me feel old. But he also took my keys, forcing me to leave my front door unlocked so I could come report a crime.”

Dennis blanches, turning as white as his award-winning snowman was. “Sydney, I’m so sorry. Let’s–”

I lean back. “Relax. I used my hide-a-key to lock up when I left.”

Dennis does not seem amused by this. “We’re going to talk about you even having a hide-a-key at some point.”

“But, Deputy,” I lower my voice and lean in close to him, grabbing the lapel of his coat. Desire heats in his eyes. “How else are my lovers supposed to get into my house when they need me too badly to wait?”

Dennis closes the gap between us so his lips are a breath away from mine. “Do you want me to kiss you now in front of this entire precinct so everyone knows just who owns you?”

“Owns me?”

“Yes, Sydney, owns you. I plan to do everything in my power to make you mine. Whatever that looks like.”

“I thought you wanted more time after getting out of your relationship?” I phrase it like a question.

I’m confused when he casts a glance around the mostly empty bullpen, where everyone is otherwise occupied. He grabs my hand, slowly easing it between his legs, where I can feel his erection. “Does that feel like I want more time? Besides, you’re the one who thought that, not me.”

It feels like he’s tossed the ball back in my court, and I have to really decide what I want from this. I could go for something between us, explore the chemistry that seems explosive, or I could run and hide the way I want to, the way my brain is telling me to.

This could hurt me, and after so long guarding my heart from disappointment, I’m not sure I could handle it. I’m not sure I could handle someone taking what I have to offer and deciding that it’s not enough. Carmen could walk back into the picture and they could decide to give it another try. I mean, they have history. I don’t think I could blame him for it.

He could still decide the Christmas thing is a deal-breaker. He could realize that I’m not good enough for him. I just don’t know. But what I do know is that even though I could be hurt and come to regret this decision, I will for sure regret not giving it a chance .

We don’t have to get married or anything, but if I don’t try, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to open my heart again.

I close the last of the gap between us and press our closed lips together. It’s not the salacious snow-melting sort of kiss, but it’s a message all its own. I’m here. I’m here for us. I’m trying.

Dennis pulls back, and that same mischievous smile is playing across his lips.

“What's that smile for?” I ask shyly, looking away from him and around the room. The few people who are in the small bullpen area are suddenly very engrossed in what they’re doing.

“That smile is because you’ve just thrown the gauntlet by deciding you’re going to be mine.”

“I’ve thrown the gauntlet, have I?”

“Yes, not only do I have to make you fall in love with me, but also with Christmas.”

I lean back, crossing my arms. “No.”

“No?”

“No. No, I will not learn to love the capitalist hell holiday that is Christmas. People use the holiday as an excuse for greed and pride–showing off their presents that they got each other while treating the very workers, delivery people, service workers, and retail employees, like shit.”

“Wow, okay, someone clearly pissed in your eggnog.”

I glare at him. “Keys?” I hold my hand out, annoyed with him about his need to make even this little dig Christmas-themed.

“No, I have a few errands to run today. You can come with me.” He looks back down at what he was doing and scribbles something I can’t see before sliding the card into an envelope.

“Don’t you have to protect and serve or something?”

“Hi, Welcome to Evergreen Lake. You must be new here. We have one traffic light, five cops, and our last crime included having to arrest Mildred after she went streaking on the autumn equinox. Not much to do but patrol the town looking for all the ne'er do wells. Would you like to ride along?”

“Our tax dollars hard at work. Can I do a ride along? Do I need to sign a waiver? Am I tall enough for this…ride?” I look him up and down suggestively and he blushes, and it might be the cutest thing.

Why is this man so endearing?

“You are most definitely tall enough for this ride. I also stopped by Doc’s office this morning for a blood test on my way in. So, I’m hoping to get the results soon.”

He gets to his feet, grabbing his patrol jacket from the back of his chair. I hate watching him put it on when all I want to do is take it right back off and let him have his wicked way with me right here in front of everyone.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you: errands.”

He slides his hand into mine and drags me from the building. As soon as we’re outside, he pulls a beanie down over my head, and I frown up at him.

“What’s that for?”

“Your ears were red when you came in. I don’t want them to get frostbitten.” He kisses the tip of my nose, and my cheeks burn hot. I’ll tell myself it's from the cold December air.

I poke his cheek. “Are you real? Or like, did you come from a cereal box?”

He snatches my hand and kisses the palm. I’m not sure I could get used to such casual touches.

“Don’t be ridiculous. They don’t put boys in cereal boxes. I came from a Cracker Jack box.”

Damn him.

His hand slides into mine as we walk from the precinct down Main Street toward Hanson’s. I can feel the warmth of his hand through both our gloves, and it’s the sort of warmth that spreads all the way through. I can’t remember the last time that I mailed a letter and yet here Dennis goes, ready to mail one himself.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in the card?”

“Dying to know, aren’t you?”

I try to restrain the annoyed sound that wants to claw its way out of my throat. “ Obviously ,” I say dryly.

“Ever since I learned how to write, my parents made me write them a Christmas card. Nothing exceptionally detailed, just ten things I did that year and five things I wished for in the new year.”

That’s…oddly sweet. I remember the days when my parents made me sign the backs of my old class photos that we would slide into all the cards we would send, until eventually, they stopped caring about sending cards. The brief memory of sitting in the living room on the floor while my mom danced around drinking from a mug, causes a pang in my heart. My dad would stuff the envelopes and I would lick every last one of them closed until I got a papercut on my tongue and my parents finally took pity on me. I don’t know why we stopped. And if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want to think too hard about the past.

“And you still do it at thirty years old?”

He pinches my side, and I laugh, trying to escape his reach. I nearly trip, but he catches me, pulling me right back into his orbit. “Brat, you know I’m not that old. But, yes, I do. They like it. I know that they do because my mom starts asking on November first when I’m mailing her letter.”

“But don’t you talk about what’s in it already?” I ask, liking the feeling of his arm when he slides it over my shoulders even if it means losing the warmth from his hand.

“Of course, we do. Like, they know I got a new truck, but it’s one of the big things that happened this year. I just think it’s nice to have something to look back on in ten or fifteen years. When I turned 21, my dad brought out my old cards where I talked about wanting a new Game Boy as my wish for the next year or when I broke my arm falling from the monkey bars.”

I scoff. “I remember that.”

“No way.” He stops in his tracks and turns to look at me. “I was, like, ten.”

“And I was seven, and I was there that day. You were trying to get your legs up and over the bars so you could hang upside down, but your foot got caught and before your mom could make it over to you to catch you, you fell and broke your arm.”

“Holy shit. You were there.”

We’re frozen for a second, looking at each other and thinking about how long we’ve been in orbit around each other. It’s a heated moment where we each take a step closer. It’s no secret that in small towns you grow up with the same people and you see them your whole lives. My math teacher in high school went to that same high school with my grandparents. He’s taught generations of families and will keep doing so. It’s just strange to think of the way our lives have already intersected before this, before us.

“Yeah, you killed my dreams of winning an olympic gold medal. I was lobbying for gymnastics classes on the balance beam.” Calling that old piece of wood at the playground a balance beam is generous. It stretched about five feet long and was thick enough for us to easily walk on. “My mom saw you fall and pointed you out and said that would be my future if I pursued it. So, there went my dream of becoming the next Tonya Harding.”

“She was a figure skater, so I just crushed all your dreams.”

“Well, obviously, I was going to win gold in gymnastics before winning gold in figure skating. God, Deputy, don’t be so jealous.”

The rest of our walk to Hanson’s is quiet. I can hear the sounds of the booths being built for the Christmas Festival that starts on Friday with the Christmas Tree Lighting. At some point, Winter Farm will bring down their tree on their horse-drawn carriage. It will all be horrifyingly festive. While the town carries on with their traditions, I tend to carry on with my own tradition of drinking a bottle of wine and watching old procedural reruns. Maybe that’s why I’m hot for cop. Sometimes Louis will join me; sometimes he’ll let Ollie talk him into going for the whole dog and pony show.

Sheila is behind the counter when we get to the post office, and it takes a lot of fortitude not to cower behind Dennis. I’m pretty sure she’s the one who told my parents when I got suspended from school for super gluing everyone's lockers shut as part of the senior prank. I thought Noah and I were smooth as we alternated buying super glue every other day for a month to stock up.

Her eagle eyes glance between the two of us as Dennis steps up and plants a single dollar on the counter.

“Good Morning, Sheila. I hope you had a great holiday. One forever stamp, please,” he says with so much cheer that it actually makes my stomach twist. How can I make this work with a man who has so much Christmas cheer when I’m in the negative for it?

“Morning, Deputy,” she greets, eyes darting between the two of us. “Annual card to your parents?”

“You know it. I’ll probably be back next week for a fresh roll. I need to see how many cards I’m sending this year.”

The old busybody harrumphs as she takes the envelope from Dennis and slaps the stamp on it. She makes change and sets it on top of her cash register, which seems to please Dennis. I open my mouth to say something, but Dennis grabs my hand and squeezes it, silencing me for the better.

Sheila’s eyes drop down to where our hands are joined, and I would honestly be shocked if this wasn’t all over town by the end of the day. The question of why I care if Sheila does what she does best, gossip, occurs to me, and I realize I don’t care.

Will it suck having this new relationship get back to Carmen and her potential wrath? Sure, but she’s the one who dragged Dennis to that party. She’s the one who had no idea what she had while she had him.

I move up so I’m side by side with him, and the beaming look of appreciation from Dennis sets my heart aflutter.

Jesus, who am I, using words like aflutter?

Dennis doesn’t look up at Sheila, instead keeping his gaze glued to me. “Happy holidays, Sheila.”

If she grumbles something in response, I don’t hear it. I’m too focused on the feel of Dennis’s hand in mine as his other comes up to cup my cheek. Our lips are about to meet when I feel someone rushing toward us.

I flinch, and Dennis turns so he’s between me and whoever is barrelling toward us. That small gesture has me leaning into his back, desperate to get him back to whoever's place is closest so we can take off our clothes. No one gets violent in Evergreen Lake, like…ever, but that he tried to place himself between me and danger makes all those puddly feelings come back.

“Deputy Mitchell,” a woman’s shrill voice scolds.

“Mrs. Paterna, what can I do for you today?”

“You can tell me why you’re allowing that…that thug to open a store in this town, and not just that, but to try to hire the impressionable youths of Evergreen Lake. A bakery! I don’t believe for one second that the Callahan boy is actually selling cookies. Probably drugs or something.”

I’ve seen Noah around a handful of times since he returned, but he’s mostly been reclusive, hiding out in Gingerbread’s. We haven’t done the deeper dive into why he’s back, but I hate the idea of him feeling like I’m only there to pump him for information. It’s not a secret around town that he was arrested, but the reasons why change from day-to-day. I’ve heard everything from running a Ponzi scheme in New York to robbing the gold from the Federal Reserve Bank. When I hear those things, I point out the ridiculousness of them, but changing minds in a small town is hard. Noah and I didn’t do ourselves any favors trying to convince people that we were good kids because we always acted like we were better than this town. Our dreams were always beyond Evergreen Lake. Ironic that we would both land back here anyway.

So, the idea that this woman would impugn his honor makes me want to scream.

“Hey!” I start to move around Dennis but he pushes me back behind him before I can interject.

“Do you have proof?” he asks. “If you’re accusing Noah Callahan of selling drugs out of Ginger’s old place, then I’m assuming you have proof. Maybe Curtis came to you with one of those weed cookies or maybe you witnessed a crime, but without evidence, there isn’t anything I can do.” Mrs. Paterna opens her mouth but Dennis shakes his head, silencing her. “I’m not done yet, Mrs. Paterna, because I know, I know you wouldn’t come to me with an unsubstantiated claim about someone in this town who is here looking for a second chance. Not after you begged me personally to give Curtis a second chance. Your argument was so compelling that Curtis didn’t deserve to be hounded for the rest of his life for a mistake he made as a kid, so I charged him with possession and not intent to distribute as a minor.”

I edge back around Dennis so I’m standing by his side because if he can’t shut her shit down, I will .

“But Curtis deserved a second chance. I heard this Callahan boy was arrested . I heard he stole a car after robbing a bank.”

My blood starts to boil. I’m about to open my mouth to say something but Dennis squeezes my hand, causing the words to catch in my throat.

“Did he tell you this?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did Noah tell you this?” I no longer recognize the tone he’s using.

“Well, no, but I was talking to Missy Martinez while I was at the Lips & Hips and she said that her nephew’s roommate is friends with the man who helped Miss Ginger, may she rest in peace, after she had that pipe leak in the spring. She referred him to Mrs. Callahan, and he was with her at Hanson’s discussing a job when she got the call that he was going to prison. Ask Sheila or Bernice or Mildred. I’m sure they know it too.”

Sometimes, I hate small towns.

“Mrs. Paterna. I haven’t heard this. I haven’t seen any open warrants out for Noah Callahan, because I promise, I looked when I heard these rumors going around town. The same way there are still rumors of Curtis selling drugs behind The Reindeer Hole persisting. The same way rumors persist that Curtis looks an awful lot like Kevin Schrut and not Mr. Paterna. You see how harmful rumors can be?” He flashes Mrs. Paterna a charming smile. “Now, if you come to me with proof , I will be obligated to investigate these accusations of wrongdoing, but as it stands, you’re doing a great job of helping Noah build a slander case.”

Her jaw hangs open, and honestly, so does mine a bit. Jumping him in the middle of Hanson’s would be inappropriate, right? But he is the one who would arrest me for public indecency, so I should totally risk it, right ?

Mrs. Paterna stands up straight and glares at Dennis. “And here I thought you were a decent man.”

“Respectfully, Mrs. Paterna, don’t confuse my being a decent man with being a pushover. Because you made a good point, I was willing to help Curtis, but my warnings clearly went unheeded. Leave Noah Callahan alone or I’ll file a harassment charge against you on his behalf.”

Mrs. Paterna doesn’t bother attempting to get the last word in. She just tuts and stalks out of the store. Behind me, I can feel Sheila’s eyes on us. Good. Let her tell everyone about how Dennis defended Noah.

“My place is closer,” I say to him. I think I might be looking at him with literal hearts in my eyes. When he finally looks away from the direction that Mrs. Paterna went, he quirks an eyebrow.

“What for?”

I want to kiss this man for being so good and pure that he can’t read all the pheromones I know I must be throwing off.

“Gee, Officer, I don’t know why anyone would need to know whose house is closer when they’re talking to their paramour.”

“Am I your paramour or are you mine?” he teases, a grin hitting his face. Of course, he was fucking with me.

“What’s it going to be, Deputy? Are you going to rail me at my place or yours?”

He sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. “Neither. I am on the clock.” Dennis walks me backward until my back hits a candy display just outside of view of Sheila and any prying eyes. “And I want to wait until I get my test results back tomorrow so I can sink into that pussy bare and feel you clench around me when you come. I’m positive that if fucking you with a condom was life-changing, fucking you bare will be a religious experience.”

I want to fan my face, because I know he’s getting me all hot and bothered, and I’m not at all bothered by that. I want more of it. I want him to turn me into putty with his words.

“Sir, we are in public,” I tell him, but it’s breathless, and calling him “sir” only makes me desperate to ride him. If the flare of his eyes is any indication, it has a similar effect on him.

“Call me ‘sir’ again, and see if you like the results.”

His face moves to be within a millimeter of mine, and I could so easily just close the gap so our lips brush, and it might be wrong, but I’m sure there is a dark corner of Hanson’s we can defile. I pull back just a hair, and his entire demeanor changes. Dennis steps back, giving me space so it doesn’t look like he’s about to lift me up and hold me in place with his dick.

Fine. If he wants to make me wait, two can play this game.

“I think…you have work to do, and I think the delayed gratification will do us some good.”

“Delayed gratification?” he echoes, and I don’t know how I feel about the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Maybe not,” I say, trying to backtrack it.

“No, no. Don’t back down now. I’ll make sure there is plenty of gratification at the end of that delay.”

Dennis bends to kiss my cheek, my cheek . And then he walks backward until he’s just about out of my sight when he gives me a small salute.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Dennis takes this whole delayed gratification thing too far. That night, I get a text from him that he’s had a few things come up with the transition to the new sheriff and with the Christmas Festival. When he stops in at Sips while I’m working, he gives me coy smiles and tips an imaginary hat at me. Louis took endless amusement at how hard up I was. Two amazing nights with Dennis and I was dickmatized. The only way I could get Louis off teasing me was by asking about the orgy he had at the key party.

On Thursday, Dennis comes into Sips and leans across the counter to me. “Be my date tomorrow night.”

I glance up at him from the foam art snowman I’m unsuccessfully creating. “Your date? You think I should agree to go on a date with the guy who has ghosted me for four days?”

“I did not ghost you.”

I set the cup that’s holding the steamed milk down hard. “Sir, what would you call it?”

His eyes widen at the use of ”sir,” and shit. “I would call it being busy. This town doesn’t just turn into Christmas overnight.”

“Pretty sure that’s wrong,” I mutter to myself. Every day on my walk to work I see some new horrible Christmas detail has been added, like having all the light posts painted red and white striped.

“Be my date to the Christmas Tree Lighting,” he elaborates, and I flinch back. A low level of annoyance floods my system, and I’m wondering if Christmas is going to be my deal breaker instead of his.

“Absolutely not.”

“See, you say you hate Christmas, but I see you making foam snowmen in your cute reindeer antlers.”

I glare upward at the very ridiculous accessory he’s referencing, but that’s not what I comment on. “You can tell it’s a snowman?” It’s enough to banish at least some of my frustration with him not hearing me about Christmas.

“Well, no. I just looked at it and thought what Christmas thing it could be, and snowman was the only logical option ”

“I am trying . This is not as easy as it looks,” I exclaim.

“I know, sugar, you’ll get there. It’s just going to take practice. But you don’t need to practice to come to the Christmas Tree Lighting. I mean, I have to work part of the event.”

I scoff. “So, not only do you want to drag me to an event that I don’t want to be at, but you’re also working it?”

“While technically true that I will be working it, this is Evergreen Lake, and we don’t have any crime ever, so it's not like I would be leaving you on your own.”

“I don’t know. Apparently, Curtis Paterna is dealing drugs and our local law enforcement is turning a blind eye.”

Dennis smirks, “So, it worked.”

“What worked?”

“My bluff. I scared Curtis straight when I caught him behind the Lips & Hips with drugs the first time. He’s not dealing. If he is doing drugs, I don’t know anything about it.”

“That was a dirty trick letting his mom think he’s still dealing.”

“But I proved my point. Weren’t you and Noah friends?”

The reminder of Noah has me casting my gaze in the direction of the shared wall with Gingerbread’s. Every so often, I’ll catch a whiff of fresh cookies that smell the way Ginger used to make them when she was alive. Mary always finds a reason to be out of the shop when that happens. I should try harder to reach out to Noah and sit down and really catch up, but he’s giving off major “leave me the fuck alone vibes” right now, so I’m going to respect that.

“We are–were–are. I don’t know. It’s complicated,” I dump the failed snowman into a to-go cup and hand it off to Dennis. “It’s a light sugar cookie espresso.”

“Come with me to the Tree Lighting, and I’ll give you my test results. ”

My eyes meet his, and this man has zero poker face. A grin stretches his face, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Your negative test results?”

“How did you know?”

“Dennis, it’s written all over your face. You look like a–” I stop the simile before it can escape my mouth. The look he gives me tells me he knows what I was going to say. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Come with me to the Tree Lighting, please. I promise you’ll like it.”

“I promise I won’t .”

He grabs my hand and pulls me around the side of the counter so he can put his hands on my hips and lean in close. It’s a move designed to make me swoon for him and agree to this. Damn him.

“How would you know? When was the last time you even went to one?”

“Never. I went to none ever, and I don’t plan to start this year. Maybe I’ll hang out with Noah instead.”

Dennis reels me in closer and I scowl further at him. “Have I told you how adorable you look in those antlers?”

“Don’t even.”

“I think you need to draw a little red nose.” He taps my nose, and I nip at his finger.

“You’re on thin ice, sir.”

“There it is again, that sir.”

“Nope. You’re not going to baby Dom your way into getting me to attend an event that I don’t want to go to. I will do my own tradition, which is drinking a bottle of wine and maybe masturbating.”

This causes a lightness to glow in his eyes. This man is definitely imagining what it looks like when I get myself off. It’s been less than a week since I had this man between my legs, and somehow in that time I’ve become addicted to having him there.

“That’s your tradition?”

“Sounds like I can sway you to my way of thinking.” I drag one hand down his chest, toward his belt, where he stops my wrist.

Dennis coughs and looks around the shop. “You might have some good points, but I’ll only concede if you give me something in return.”

“I’ve heard I give excellent blow jobs.”

Dennis shakes his head. “Turnabout is fair play. We’ll do what you want the night of the Tree Lighting, but then you have to do what I want.”

I should heed the hair rising on my neck, but the idea of Dennis caving to me has me speaking before I can think any better of it. “Yes.”

He dips his head to kiss my lips gently. “Good. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

On Friday night, while the town gathers for hot chocolate and caroling, I’m at home making sure my apartment is tidy. It’s not like Dennis hasn’t seen the space with my bras hanging from doorknobs as they dry. The space needed a good cleaning. With no one to take home, I stopped doing the usual home maintenance bullshit. I do a light vacuuming but never under my couch. I clean the counters but not my windows.

I mean, shit, I manage to do my laundry weekly, but I’m not some sort of superhero. The big cleans would happen when my parents came to visit, but as their visits have become less and less frequent, so has my deep cleaning.

When I think I can hear everyone in town counting down to the lighting, I turn up the volume on the procedural I have playing in the background. Dennis said he would probably be by later in the night because while Evergreen Lake isn’t a cesspool of crime, he still needs to be there as a deterrent.

Looking around the apartment, I make a checklist of things to do before he gets here: light a few candles, pop open a fresh bottle of wine, and most importantly, take a fucking breath. It’s only been a week since the key party, and I’m sort of dying to find someone to talk to about this. I want to talk about how Dennis makes me feel and about how much I look forward to seeing him during the day. The mornings when I would duck him are in the past. Now, I look forward to seeing him. I could talk to Louis, but whenever Dennis comes up, he makes the whole thing feel so…tawdry.

Promptly at 10:15, there is a knock on my door and I nearly jump out of my skin to get to him. Dennis said that he would be done around ten and that it should take him about fifteen minutes to walk over and hot damn is the boy punctual.

When I open the door to him, he has a big goofy grin and is holding two cups of hot liquid. He offers one to me. “Hot chocolate.” I’ve barely got it in my hands before he leans down to kiss me.

Dennis’s nose is cold against my cheek, but I don’t mind it even as he brings the crisp smell of the cold air in with him. He walks me inside, kicking the door closed behind him, and I don’t mind at all as his free hand finds the nape of my neck and he deepens the kiss. It moves quickly from an “I missed you” kiss to a “Why are your clothes still on?” kiss. I fumble for the credenza next to my front door so I can place down my hot chocolate before taking his and placing it down too .

My hands slide up and over his shoulders, pushing his coat off until it falls to the ground behind him. I know that if I stop and look at him in all his magnificent glory, I’m just going to bend over for him and push my leggings down because a man in uniform just does things to my libido. It was one thing when we were in Sips and I had to control myself, but in my home I don’t have to.

I can play the bad girl. I run my hands down his chest until I get to his utility belt and I realize that, duh, he’s a fucking cop, so he has a gun that I’ve seen him wearing before. I’ve never even heard of an officer needing to reach for their service weapon in town history, but they still carry them.

“I locked my weapon up in the station house before coming here. We haven’t really had the stance on gun control talk, and I didn’t want to assume that you had a gun safe here.”

“That is stupid fucking hot that you thought ahead like that.” I look up at him, pretty sure my face has every thought playing out on it, the admiration, the trust, the disbelief that I could land someone who is this considerate.

His answering grin is confirmation that I’m right. “Your safety matters to me.”

“Does this mean you also left the handcuffs at the station house?”

I hear a snap and then the clinking of metal and then he’s holding them up next to his face. “You mean these?”

I shift my voice, dropping it low and making it sickly sweet. “Officer, have I done something wrong?”

A sly grin spreads Dennis’s face. “I’m going to have to check your person, make sure you don’t have any weapons on you,” He leans forward and presses a kiss right under my ear.

“Will you require a strip search?”

“I think this situation calls for it.” Dennis grabs the hem of my sweater and starts to pull it up. I lift my arms over my head and close my eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his calloused hands pushing my shirt up until I’m surprised by the feel of his lips just under my belly button at the edge of my leggings.

“Deputy!” I scold in a scandalized voice.

“Ma’am, this is just a standard search. I’m going to ask you to remain calm as I go about my duty.”

A delighted shiver runs down my body, and I can feel Dennis grin as he kisses along my stomach before starting to peel my leggings down. As he kisses my thighs and knees I’m glad I decided to shave today. When he gets to the spot I nicked, he kisses that with extra care.

“You never did mention what I’m being accused of,” I murmur as I step out of my leggings and socks.

“It’s it obvious? Theft.” I can see the second the words are out of his mouth, he wants to claw them back in. He immediately gets to his feet when he looks me in the eye, but I have to imagine the flicker of pain on my face gives away just how deep his words cut. I didn’t take anything from that party, but I guess Dennis still doesn’t believe that, and if that’s the case, if he really thinks I’m capable of that, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this. “Sydney, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, honestly.”

Dennis holds himself back from touching me, and I’m glad because it gives me the chance to solidify my defenses. I think a little bit of my heart breaks at the accusation, but of course, Dennis thinks that I did steal because I’ve been cagey about it. I had to stop caring about what anyone thinks of me a long time ago. Growing up with my parents insisting I was a bad kid, and having an entire town echo it with little gestures, like keeping an eye on me in stores or when I would hang out at the park after dark with my friends, just reinforced that idea. Caring about what the people of Evergreen Lake think of me has never gotten me anywhere, so I’ll let Dennis think I’m his little criminal .

“I think you like that I’m a little bit bad. So, let’s not shatter the image you have of me in your mind and let’s play with those handcuffs.” I grab the bottom of my sweater and lift it over my head so I can change the subject with sex. I’m not sure I’m super in the mood for sex anymore, but I will do anything to change the tension that’s descended between us.

“No, Sydney, don’t deflect. I’m sorry. What I said was out of line.”

I grab his face, trying to get him to focus on something that isn’t the powder keg of emotions that are setting between us. “Deputy, forget it. Focus on this.”

Reaching between us, I grab the front clasp of my bra and unhook it, freeing my breasts. Like any good man, his attention is diverted down to where my boobs hang. Men.

“Sydney…”

“Deputy… I’ve been bad.”

His gaze searches my face before he nods and slips back into the scene we were building. “You have been bad. Now, let me show you all the ways you can be good.”

I feel better now that we’ve found our footing again. Dennis cups my face and tilts my head back so he can kiss me, only his lips never meet mine. Instead, they graze my chin, working their way down my chest. Dennis draws his hands along my sides, touching me every which way he can. His thumbs hook in my panties and he pulls them down my legs as he drops to his knees.

Once my thong is around my ankles, Dennis kisses my bare pussy and it nearly gets me to drop on my knees too.

“What do I need to do to be good?” My voice shakes as I say it. I sift my hands through his hair, and there is something decadently sexy about having a fully-dressed man on his knees before me while I’m bare before him.

Dennis gets to his feet with a scowl on his face. “You think you can earn a reward just for turning around and pretending to be good? No, you have to earn it by being a good girl.” He scoops me up with one arm around my back and the other behind my knees.

“How can I be a good girl?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck. Dennis jostles me as he toes off his shoes before he strides back to my bedroom.

I kiss his cheek as he walks confidently into my personal space. His comment still stings, but as he gently lays me on the bed, I can feel the sting lessening. Dennis hovers over me with one knee beside my hip. A flush spreads over my body from his scrutiny.

“You can be a good girl by spreading your legs for me, sugar.”

Dennis backs off the bed and forces my knees apart.

“Like what you see?” I ask as I reach between my legs to stroke my clit.

His eyes remain glued to where I’m touching myself. He grabs the meat of my thighs and pushes my legs wider. “I love what I see.” He drags his tongue over my fingers and my slit. “And I fucking love how you taste.”

“Dennis,” I plead. My other hand threads into his hair, and I give it a tug so he looks up at me. “Stop teasing me, please.”

“You think you’ve earned it?”

“I think you’ve been edging me all week, and yes, I have earned a good fucking. You wanted to wait till you got your results and you did. Now, stop fucking around and put that dick in me.”

Dennis nuzzles my thigh, kissing the often neglected flesh. “You might be the only woman in history who doesn’t want an orgasm before I give her more orgasms.”

“That is factually incorrect. I’m just impatient to feel you between my legs. I’m impatient to bounce on your cock. I haven’t even masturbated all week because I was waiting for this moment.”

Dennis wags a finger at me. “No getting mad at me for edging yourself. I never said you had to save all your orgasms for me, though now that you mention it…”

“Dennis, I want you to have all of my orgasms.” The words surprise me when they escape me. They’re true. I do want him to be the one to give me my orgasms. I enjoy self-play, but there’s also something magical about having someone rail you, having someone else be invested in your pleasure.

“Then I’m going to take all of them.” He pushes to his feet and strips out of his uniform, draping it over the chair I have in the corner that acts as an extra place to store clothes. When he’s down to his boxer briefs, I admire the erection straining against the tight material.

I’m not sure why he’s picked me to be the one he wants to be with, but our connection is undeniable. I just have to make sure we can get past all this Christmas bullshit. I don’t plan to change for a guy, the same way I wouldn’t expect him to change for me. Even if he does make me want to be a better person. Although I took that first step before him.

Dennis slides his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs before laughing. “Hey, my eyes are up here, Syd.”

I look up at him, and he just looks so delighted I can’t help but return the smile. “I told you I wanted to get dicked down. I will stare lovingly into your eyes after I’m blissed out on orgasms.”

“Was that orgasms plural?” He shucks his boxer briefs all the way off, and his erection juts proudly from his body.

There is no control over my body. I crawl to the edge of the bed so I can take his cock in my hands. He hisses as I pump him. I’m not even looking at Dennis, just the way his hips start making micro-thrusts into my hand. I’m not done yet .

I roll over onto my back and hang my head over the edge of the bed so he can fuck my mouth like this. I lick from tip to base then back again before sucking him into my mouth completely. It’s a weird angle, but it lets him go deeper, and I have to fight my gag reflex when he hits the back of my throat.

I want him to do it again.

I know there are tears streaming down my face and if I were to open my eyes, I would have a view of his tree trunk thighs, but instead of that, I keep my eyes closed so I can luxuriate in the feeling of him fucking my face. He’s taking full advantage of the mess I’m letting him make me, and when he pulls from my mouth abruptly, he’s squeezing the base of his cock.

“Turn around on that fucking bed, lie on your back, and put your hands over your head.”

I comply immediately, turning my back to him so I can climb back onto the bed and do as I’m told. I grip the iron bars of my headboard, and as I turn to look at him, I feel something cold snap into place around my wrists.

Dennis has a question in his eyes, but then he voices one too. “Is this okay? If it’s not, they come right off.”

I give the handcuffs an experimental tug. “I’ve literally been asking for this,” I point out.

“Explicit consent, sugar. Is this okay?”

“Yes. This is very much okay. But…” Worry flashes on Dennis’s face. “But I just want to know if I’m getting the real experience.”

He boops my fucking nose like I’m not spread out naked with his erection pressing against my belly. “These are not my work handcuffs. Besides not being sanitary, let’s just say I’ve seen what happens when you lose the key, so.” He reaches over me and presses the safety lever on the side, demonstrating how easy it is to release me before locking them in place. “In a pinch, I got these cheap ones, but if you find you enjoy being tied like a dirty slut, then I will find restraints that won’t hurt your delicate skin.”

I want to pull the lever just so I can drag him down to me, but I settle for wrapping my legs around him and forcing his dick to glide against my core. The groan he gives me tells me everything I need to know. He can feel how wet I am for him, not just from him licking me earlier, but from how it felt when he face-fucked me, and now with how considerate he is.

How is this man real?

Dennis pulls his hips back just a little so he can reach between us and better position himself at my entrance. It’s one slow stroke into my body that has both of us moaning as he sinks into me.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. This pussy was made to take me.” He pulls back and looks down at where we’re joined, a view I envy him right now. “You take me so well. Fuck, Sydney.” He’s moving so slow, enjoying his own pleasure. If it wasn’t for the occasional flick of his eyes at my face, I would wonder if he even remembered that I was more than just a hole for him to fuck. I start to squirm under his scrutiny and under just how slowly he’s moving. I want that friction. I want him to get me there and throw me over the edge. I want, I want, I want.

Want.

That’s all I’ve become as he moves in and out of my cunt.

Need.

His thumb brushes over my clit and I cry out.

“Dennis, please, please fuck me.”

“I am. Can’t you tell? Can’t you feel the way your pussy holds on to me? I am fucking you like you’ve asked for. But bad girls have to wait. Wait until I’m ready to make you scream, because right now, you sound like a bad girl who doesn’t want it enough. ”

Where are these words coming from? The temperature of my body rises as I try to take what I want.

“Please, Dennis. I’ll be good. I promise. Just fuck me like I’ve earned.”

“What about what I’ve earned? Haven’t I earned a chance to take my time with you?”

A keening whine escapes my throat. I’m completely at his mercy with my hands bound over my head. I fucking love how he’s just using my body, but damn it, if I don’t get off I might cry. “Dennis, I’m begging.”

He pinches my nipple, an action that makes me clench around him. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Dennis pulls out of me and then starts to hammer into me in the way I’ve been begging for. The slow and sweet was great for getting me wound up. But now I want him to take everything from me. He bends over me so he can kiss me with a bruising touch, but I’m not going to give in to him that easily. While he’s thrusting inside me, lighting me up like a goddamned Christmas tree, our mouths are battling for dominance, and when I feel my orgasm start to coil tight in my belly, I break the kiss, arching my breasts into his face. Dennis takes the other nipple into his mouth and sucks, his teeth nipping at the tender peak until I'm grinding against him mindlessly. My climax grabs a hold of me and drags me down into the center of the galaxy. He groans along with me with his own orgasm. The walls of my pussy clench and pulse around Dennis’s cock, and I think I might lose my hearing for a second because when I open my eyes, there is a ringing in my ears.

I don’t even realize Dennis has stopped moving so I can get the right amount of friction I need until feeling starts to return. Dennis is gazing down at me with a beat of sweat sliding down the side of his face.

“You’re fucking stunning when you come.” He kisses my brow then down to my lips. My whole body feels like a melted noodle, and I wish I could just wrap my arms around him, but he’s keeping me at his mercy. Really, I know how to unlock the toy handcuffs, but I like it better like this. “I could watch that all day–your face, the sounds, the way your body writhes.” His lips continue along my neck. “Now, there’s an idea. Leave you strapped to this bed and leave a toy in you all day and see how many times I can get you off before you’re begging for mercy.”

“Wow, that is so evil and yet, I’m wondering when we can do this.” I shift my wrists, causing the metal to rub against my headboard.

“Shit, I’m sorry, sugar.” He reaches up and unlatches both my wrists, tossing the handcuffs onto my nightstand. Nevermind the fact that he’s still inside me. He takes his time looking at the raw raised lines on my skin, and he kisses gently along all of them. “That was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“No, really, I’m okay. I liked it, and I’m not cut or anything. They’ll go away and by tomorrow there will be no evidence of my crimes.”

His lips brush along the inside of my wrist. “I still don’t like it, but I’ll accept it.”

Dennis pulls out of me, returning back to his trail from earlier. His lips are so gentle as he kisses along the soft curve of my belly before tickling along the creases of my hips. I thread my fingers through his hair, watching as he skips over my center, moving to the other hip. I watch with interest.

“Where are you going, sir?”

Dennis looks up at where I’m lounging. “Good. You already have your eyes on me. You’re going to play with those pretty nipples while I eat my cum out of you, and after you’ve had another dozen orgasms, I’m going to order pizza from Rizzo’s, and then you can sit on my face while you enjoy your reward.”

“My reward is pizza? ”

“Your reward is pizza while you fuck my face.” Dennis places his whole mouth on my clit, sucking before withdrawing to blow on it. The sudden changes have me crying out.

While it’s not another dozen orgasms, just two more, he stays true to his word, eating his release and mine out of me until I’m begging for mercy.

Dennis does order pizza, which is how we wind up sitting on my couch with a glass of wine each while we wait for the delivery.

My feet are in his lap and I’m snuggled into an oversized hoodie while he rubs my feet. I mean, really. Where did this man come from that he rubs my feet and eats my pussy like it’s the finest meal he’s had?

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, smirking as he turns his head to look at me. His thumb dives into a knot I had no idea was even in my arch. “You look like you’re thinking very hard over there.”

“I am. I’m just trying to figure out what your flaws are. Do you have a scary doll collection at home? Are you addicted to foot porn?”

“That’s easy.” He stops massaging my foot to level all of his focus on me. “I love Christmas and you hate it.”

“Shit, there is that.”

“You live in the most Christmassy town in America,” Dennis starts.

“Yes, but I think that title actually belongs to the North Pole. I don’t know if there’s an actual North Pole in the US, but I’m willing to bet there is.”

“It’s in Alaska.”

I bark out a laugh and pull my feet out of his lap so I can get up to get us more wine. The pizza should be here any minute. If the whole town was out for the Tree Lighting, that means that Delivery Dan has nothing to do. “Of course, you know that. ”

“You don’t have to say it so derisively.”

As if sensing we needed the interruption, there is a knock on my front door. Dennis gets off the couch while I pour us fresh glasses of wine.

“Deputy Mitchell, surprised to see you here,” Dan drawls.

It’s a clear line of sight from where I’m standing pouring wine in my sweatshirt, bare legs on display, to the front door where Dennis, in a t-shirt that boasts our old high school soccer team and a pair of gym shorts, is paying Dan. If people didn’t know what’s been going on with us, they sure will now. Sometimes, I think Dan is worse than Sheila or Ina. He’s like the pony express of gossip in this town.

“Keep the change, Dan,” Dennis says forcefully. “And keep your eyes off her legs.”

He closes the door in Dan’s face and turns to face me, holding two boxes. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he gives me a blank stare in return.

“Territorial?” I question, following him as he walks back into the living room with the boxes. I’m teasing him, but that protective tone in his voice just now had me squirming.

“Yes. If I can protect you, even if it’s just from some guy ogling you, I will. That’s what good boyfriends do.”

“Why do you have to go and say shit like that?” I plop beside him and hand him his glass of wine. I preen just a little bit at his use of the word boyfriend. He’s watching me, probably waiting for an objection, but he won’t get one. He’s the one fresh out of the slammer. If he wants to tie himself down to me already, I’m not going to object at all.

“What’s the matter? You don’t need a big bad man to defend you?”

I cross my legs under me on the couch so I can lean in close to his face. Our noses are barely touching when I answer him. “No, because it’s swoony as fuck and distracts me from being annoyed with you for accusing me of being derisive over something like you knowing that there’s a North Pole, Alaska.”

He brushes his nose against mine. “Are you telling me you weren’t being snarky when you said of course I knew that?”

“No, but I also am not ridiculing you over it. Of course, you know that there’s a North Pole, Alaska, and I bet you know every year how many lights are in the tree in town and in New York City. I bet you also have a tradition about putting your lights out, and if I didn’t think you were Mr. Practical, I would think you would still leave milk and cookies out for Santa. But since you live alone, you probably don’t do that because having to eat the cookies yourself would ruin the magic for you. If your Christmas lights aren’t up already, I would actually be shocked. But I’m not ridiculing you for those things.”

“But you don’t particularly like them?”

I huff impatiently and turn away from him to pop open the top box, which has our garlic knots arranged in a Christmas tree formation. I have to smother the urge to groan. No doubt the pizza is shaped like a Christmas tree or some other bullshit.

I grab a garlic knot and shove the whole thing in my mouth then glare at Dennis while chewing.

“You might think you’re looking unattractive, but I love nothing more than to see my girl with her mouth full.” Now I’m doubly annoyed because even if I had a quippy comeback for that, I can’t use it because my mouth is full of bread. “Now, while you chew that over, I’m going to say my piece, which is that I like you a lot, Sydney. But if my favorite holiday is a problem, then I think we need to have a bigger discussion as to what our goals are here.”

I manage to chew and swallow. Even if he is being mature and trying to talk this through like an adult, I don’t have to like it.

“I mean you just– ”

“Shh, it’s my turn to talk. You got to have a mini monologue about what you think I think about Christmas, so it’s my turn to talk now.”

“Do not shush me if you ever want me to put your dick in my mouth again,” I say sharply, waving a finger in his face.

Dennis grabs my hand and kisses the tip of that finger. “You’re right. That was a dick move. You have my apologies. But the statement stands. It’s my turn.” He sets aside the box with the garlic knots so he can pull out the pizza. When he opens the box, I shoot him a glare. “I know what you’re thinking, and I just ordered a pepperoni. I didn’t do this, but you know Rizzo’s does.”

Of course, I know that Rizzo’s does this. For some kids, it was the best part of the end of the year when it would be the days before Christmas break and teachers would be fed the fuck up with us so they would order pizza and put on a movie. Back before I had the magic broken, I loved those days too. There were nights I would beg my parents to order pizza during the holidays only to be scolded for not appreciating all the cooking my parents did.

“I do,” I admit before grabbing a slice and a paper towel to catch the grease as I fold it in half.

“You aren’t wrong about just how much I love Christmas. I do already have my decorations out and up. It’s tradition that I do it on December first. I want to have the decorations up there as long as they can be, but I was distracted by someone new in my life, so I was a few days behind. I hope that shows you that I can be flexible in this thing that I love and how I approach it with someone I care about. I’m not going to force-feed you Christmas, but I do want you to come out to this stuff. In years past, I would do the snowman contest and go ice skating and attend the Christmas Tree Lighting. I like buying my parents gifts from the festival because I think giving a gift that was handmade means more than giving someone jewelry that is store-bought. Even if that crafter made one hundred just like it, with the same yarn or paint or whatever, it’s still one-of-a-kind because maybe they caught a stitch or have a larger than usual glob of paint. I love to walk around and see all the new ways people decorate their houses or the shop windows because I love the magic that it creates for little kids. When I have kids, I want to build the magic up for them for as long as possible.

“So, yes, I know that there is a North Pole, Alaska, and yes, I left cookies out for Santa until my parents moved out, but only because it was how my dad could sneak a cookie without my mom’s judgment. And I hope you can also see past it, because it’s only one month out of the year, and I think you like me enough to tolerate one month of insanity.”

“I just don't want you to try to change me. I don’t want you to wake up one morning and be mad that I don’t want to move that stupid fucking elf around the house for our kids.”

Dennis perks up as he’s grabbing his own slice of pizza. “Kids plural?”

“Yes, I was an only child and always wanted someone else to entertain me when my parents were being them, so I want that for my kids.”

“Also an only child. How many kids are you wanting? Do you want an entire football team? I might be into the breeding kink thing.”

I scoff. “Pass. Maybe four? I think I would aim for two or three and then maybe add in a fourth. Poor Ina always looks tired.”

“Wolensky has said a few times, once you have the third, anything north of that is gravy.”

“I don’t think I would call six kids gravy, and I get the feeling Ina strongly disagrees with that sentiment. ”

“I could work with four. Four means a lot of practice getting a baby in you.”

When he reaches for me, I swat at him. “No breeding. Not yet. I still feel a little lost.”

It’s a truth I hate admitting, but I know Dennis won’t judge me for it. He puts his pizza aside and wipes his hands off so he can face me. Even just doing something as simple as setting his food aside so he can show me how his attention is entirely on me chips another piece of ice off my heart.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, I wasn’t supposed to move home. I wasn’t supposed to be a barista.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Just the simple action of asking if I want to talk about it has me looking up at the ceiling, trying to keep my tears at bay. Louis has danced around the fact that I’m not where I want to be, but he’s never talked to me about it except for one attempt at a conversation when I first moved home. It always hurt too much to think about how hard I tried, first to show my parents that my behavior didn’t change how smart or capable I was when I was in high school. Then I tried again to show them that I was worthy of their love and attention by being the good daughter and coming home to help with my mom, only to be met with judgmental comments about how I couldn’t actually cut it at school until it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Yes, and no. I do want to talk about it, about how I had to abandon my dreams to come home, and I’m okay with that. I would do it again to be here for my mom and my dad, but I’m not okay feeling like I’ve put all this work into a career that I’ve cut loose that I have no way of knowing if I’ll ever return to it.”

The back of Dennis’s finger slowly moves up my cheek, catching the tear that managed to escape. “We can talk about it whenever you want. I’m here to listen. How is your mom doing?”

“Good. In remission and living with Dad in the city. I feel like they did the reverse. They lived in the suburbs their whole life and when you’re supposed to retire and live an easy life, they move into the city. Mom is always sending me selfies of them getting dinner at nice restaurants or going to shows. It’s sweet, and I’m happy for them, but sometimes I’m sad for me too.”

I’ve already unloaded on Dennis too much for a night that was supposed to be fun, but someday, I’ll talk about feeling like I’ll never measure up to what they want. How they've made me feel like they had to lower their expectations for me to still have a bar I’ll never meet. As I get older, I’m starting to realize that the problem with not meeting their expectations may be less my problem and more theirs, but it doesn’t change that I may try to pretend like I don’t care about anyone’s approval, but I still care about theirs.

“You can be sad for you, but if you’ll let me, I would like to take as much of that burden from you as I can. You did an amazingly selfless thing. No one would blame you if you wanted to get back out there and try.”

“I could probably find someone who knew me who would welcome me into a program so I could study sharks or fish or something, but that dream I had of getting up close with these behemoths is gone. There is no real way I can recover that momentum. It’s been too long since I was in school, in the field. My parents tried to tell me I should try again, maybe off the coast of California, but all my contacts and most of theirs were in the Gulf of Mexico or on the East Coast. It’s hard to compete with people who are still fresh, have recent experience, and have done all the things when I’m a twenty-six year old who hasn’t worked in the industry for almost five years.”

“Okay, then let me ask you this: If you could, would you want to go back to whatever it was? Studying sharks?”

“I was in school for marine biology, and honestly? I don’t think so, not anymore. I’m too far removed from it and that really only makes the whole situation worse. Now, I’ve got this nearly-complete fancy, expensive useless degree that I’m not using, not ever, and I’m not even trying to go back to it. I just keep thinking, what if I was somewhere on a study, unreachable, and my mom got sick again? Which I totally know is no way to live my life, but the fear is still there. It’s not like it can be reasoned with. I don’t know who I want to be anymore, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Hey, I get it. What do you think everyone said to me when I tried to tell them that I didn’t want to go to college? They said I would regret it, but you at least had a path that you wanted to take. You were certain in that goal. But I never had that, so I stayed around here and got looked at like I was a loser.”

“I thought you were going to become sheriff some day?”

“Yeah, well, with this new guy coming in, that’s unlikely, but I also don’t want the responsibility. I’ve seen how it can change you. How that pressure is a burden. Never mind adding in being responsible for other people. It’s a scary job, one that I go to therapy regularly for to make sure I’m mentally fit enough to have, because I think there is nothing worse out there than not being capable of handling the responsibility of possible life-or-death situations.”

“I’m proud of you. That’s a big deal, and amazing to admit.”

It all makes sense now, why he is so in touch with his feelings and how he’s able to communicate effectively.

“Yeah, well, Carmen didn’t see it that way. She made a big show of telling her family so that they knew what a pussy I was. Those are entirely her words, by the way. I obviously don’t think there is anything wrong with going to therapy and with trying to be the best person that I can be.”

“That’s a really fucked up thing to say. And if I’m honest? I never liked her, anyway. She was always kind of a cunt, and I do not use that word lightly when describing another woman. I’m all for female empowerment and making sure that women support women, but she’s always been a bitch. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t trash your ex to you, but it made me question you.”

He sits back with a frown on his face. “What? Really? Why?”

“Because I always thought that you should be able to see past her crap, and it made me wonder if sometimes you were complicit in how she acted and if you even agreed with her.”

“No. Definitely not. I guess I kind of had goggles on when it came to her. I could see the way she acted, but I always explained it away because I thought that it was just us growing apart or even just me growing up. It never even crossed my mind that people would come to associate how she behaved with me. Which is honestly super dumb of me. Of course, our relationship was a reflection of me.” He presses his hand to his forehead. “I feel like I owe a lot of people a lot of apologies.”

“Nah, I think you still have a good enough reputation around town that people don’t think you’re the scum of the earth. You otherwise have a great reputation.”

Dennis presses a kiss to my neck. “Which is it, sugar? Do I have a shitty reputation because of Carmen or do people think I’m a good guy?”

I bring my shoulder up to try to block him as he tickles me with kisses. “I said I thought that you were an asshole because of her, not that other people thought that of you. Are you kidding me? The gossip about you in Sips has always been the best. Oh, Dennis, he saved a cat. Oh, Dennis, he helped an old lady cross the street. Oh, Dennis has fake eyeballs so he could do a living donation of his corneas. I thought maybe it was just an act, but then sometimes I would see you and there was no denying that you were a good guy.”

“So, you admit it. I am exactly who I appear to be.” Dennis leans toward me, and I put my hand on his face.

“No, sir, I want more pizza. You can make your move after I’m full of pizza and wine.”

“You still need to fuck my face while enjoying your pizza,” he offers.

“Pass on that. Maybe another night.”

He studies me for a second, and I feel naked in front of him. It makes me tense for half a breath before I relax into the moment. I never expected that Dennis of all people would make me feel safe and content, at Christmas time no less.