2. Dawson

Dawson pulled up at the address given by dispatch and shifted the cruiser into park. The basic, two-story house was nestled in the woods just inside the Blackwater town limits.

The call was starting to make sense now. Apparently, a six-year-old boy had climbed out of his upstairs bedroom window, and his mom couldn't get to him. The roof had a steep slant with dormer windows on both sides.

There wasn't a kid in sight, but a woman with dark hair was hanging her top half out of one of the windows.

Dawson radioed to dispatch, "401 on the scene," and stepped out of the vehicle.

As soon as the woman spotted him, she shouted, "Over here!"

Another cruiser pulled into the drive just as Officer Freeman associated herself with the call.

Dawson walked around the side of the house where the woman was still frantically shouting, "He's over there!"

Following where she pointed, Dawson spotted the little boy in a nearby tree.

A nearby tree, not the tree nearest the house. The kid had some pretty impressive skills if he'd maneuvered his way from the house to his current location.

Dawson cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled to the woman in the window, "I'm Officer Keller. Do you have a ladder?"

The woman pushed hair from her face and took a series of quick breaths. "I think so."

"Don't panic. We'll help him," Dawson assured her.

Jennifer appeared at Dawson's side, standing half a foot shorter. Officer Freeman had a sweet look about her, but it didn't take long before people saw through her disguise. She was as determined as they came, and no one ever accused her of pulling punches. He had no complaints about handling calls with her. "Where is he?"

Dawson pointed to the tree. "Hanging around."

Jennifer spotted the boy in the tree who was starting to look scared. "We'll be right there. Don't move. We're going to help you."

The woman hanging out of the window seemed to calm slightly when she saw Jennifer. "I–I think my husband might have a ladder in the shed, but I'm not sure."

"Can I have your permission to check?" Dawson asked.

The woman nodded wildly.

"I need a verbal confirmation, ma'am."

"Yes, please," she said before turning her attention back to her son. "Braxton, stay where you are. They're coming, sweetie!"

Dawson jogged toward the shed, scanning the backyard that housed a climbing dome, a fire pit surrounded by chairs, and a tire swing.

No sign of a pet–thankfully.

The rotting wood of the shed door creaked as he opened it. He pulled his flashlight out of his belt and scanned the dark room.

"Snow shovel, rake, leaf blower…"

A metal ladder rested against the back wall of the shed, but the space between the door and that wall was covered in various supplies and equipment.

Just another day on the job. He started stepping over and around things as he played the live-action game of Frogger through the shed.

With the ladder in hand, he had to navigate his way back through the mess.

"Officer Keller?" Jennifer shouted.

"On my way!" He pushed the ladder out of the doorway where Jennifer pulled it from his hands.

"Don't scare me like that, Keller," Jennifer said in a low voice.

"It'll take more than a pile of junk to keep me down," he said. It wasn't unheard of for officers to respond to a call only to find out it was a trap. It hadn't happened in Blackwater since Dawson had been on the squad, but even tiny towns saw their fair share of twisted criminals.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and hefted the ladder under her arm before walking back to the base of the tree where the boy stood hugging the trunk a good twenty-feet off the ground.

Jennifer set one end of the ladder on the ground beside the tree. Dawson extended it up the side of the trunk and locked it into place.

"You climb. I'll hold," Jennifer said.

Dawson started up the ladder and called out to the boy. "Hey. I'm Officer Keller. What's your name?"

The boy looked from Dawson to his mom–his nostrils flaring as his breathing quickened.

"It's okay, baby. He's here to help!" his mom called.

"Braxton," the boy said as he squatted down on the branch.

"Well, Braxton, this is one story I bet your mom won't forget about any time soon."

The boy tucked his chin, and his shoulders rose to cover his cheeks. "She's gonna be so mad."

Dawson kept climbing, and the pine needles started to prick his hands and face. "Yeah, but I think she'll just be glad to have you on solid ground again. Just apologize and remind her how cute you are. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Braxton's small hands clung to the bark as he shifted in his crouch on the branch. "I don't think that'll work this time."

Dawson stopped when he was face-to-face with Braxton. His blond hair had little brown specks in it from the pinecones, and the tear tracks running down his face had dirt smudged in them.

Dawson propped his shoulder on the tree and his other hand on the top of the ladder. "Let me tell you a secret. Mamas don't give up on their kids, even if they're big boys who climb out of windows and get stuck in trees."

Braxton wiped the back of his arm over his face. "Okay."

"But your mom would probably be a lot happier if you didn't go tree hopping again."

Braxton nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir."

"You ever been on a ladder?" Dawson asked.

Braxton peeked down before jerking his head back and clinging to the tree. "No."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Let me show you how to do this." Dawson wrapped a hand around the far side of the branch and opened his other arm. "Put your feet right here, and I'll stay right behind you. When I step down, you step down. We'll do it together."

Braxton nodded but didn't release his hold on the tree trunk.

"You're gonna have to trust me, Braxton. I'll hold onto you, and my friend, Officer Freeman, is down there holding the ladder steady. We can do this."

Dawson reached his hand out, but Braxton didn't take it.

Man, he could be hanging around here for a while if the kid didn't trust him. Friendliness usually helped forge bonds, but fear sometimes trumped bravery.

This was one of those times he wished Olivia was around. People trusted her. They opened up to her like a faucet. Their secrets spilled out over phone calls and messages. If only people trusted Dawson like they trusted Olivia. His job would be so much easier.

Thoughts of Olivia brought back her crippling sadness when he pulled her over. He'd texted her before bed last night and this morning before his shift. She said she was okay, but he couldn't push the memory of her tears from his mind. It knotted his stomach regularly.

Dawson watched Braxton clinging to the tree. What would Olivia do in this situation?

"Hey, do you know Jesus?" Dawson asked.

Braxton looked up with wide eyes as if they'd just realized they had a mutual friend. "Yeah."

Bingo.

"Then I think we should ask Him for some bravery," Dawson said.

Braxton glanced down, then back up at Dawson. "Yeah. Okay."

Dawson bowed his head and prayed. "Hey, Jesus. I know I just talked to You about an hour ago, but it's me again. I'm here with Braxton, and he's gotten himself into a little bit of a tight spot. I know You told us in the Bible that You'll always be with us, so we'd like to ask You to keep us safe while You're going down this ladder with us."

Dawson peeked one eye open to find Braxton with his head down and eyes closed. His shoulders trembled, but he seemed calm otherwise.

"And maybe hang around for a while after we get down. I know Braxton is worried about what his mom is gonna say. Oh, and thanks for loving us, Jesus. You're awesome, and we love You."

Braxton giggled and squirmed on the branch. That was a hundred times better than tears.

"Amen." Dawson lifted his head and reached his hand out to Braxton. "So, are you with me?"

Braxton took the offered hand, sliding his clammy palm against Dawson's. "Yeah. I think I can do it."

Dawson slowly guided the boy until his feet were in the right places on the rungs of the ladder. "You know, this isn't my first time on a ladder."

Braxton looked over his shoulder and up at Dawson. "Good because I'm trying really hard not to be scared right now."

Dawson chuckled and placed his hands over Braxton's on the sides of the ladder. "One step at a time."

They slowly descended, until Dawson stepped to the ground and Braxton jumped off the third rung.

Braxton's mom stood by Jennifer, waiting to wrap her son in her arms.

"Mom! I did it!"

His mom smothered him in her embrace. "You did, and I've never been so upset and relieved at the same time in my entire life!"

Braxton's mom didn't let him out of her arms while Dawson and Jennifer completed the reports. The mom wrapped Jennifer in a big hug, and Braxton looked at Dawson.

Dawson extended his fist, then opened his arms. "Fist bump or a hug?" he asked.

Braxton launched himself at Dawson, who barely had time to bend down to the kid's level. With the little arms around his neck, Dawson gave the hug everything he had. "You be good for your mom, okay?"

"I will. Thanks for helping me be brave," Braxton whispered.

Aw, man. The little boy was determined to make Dawson's heart melt. Calls involving kids were either the worst or the best. This was one of the good ones–the kind that reaffirmed his decision to be a part of a force that served and protected.

"Don't forget who helped us," Dawson said, pointing up.

"Jesus. I know," Braxton said quickly.

Mom and son were safely back inside the house ten minutes later. Dawson walked back to the front yard next to Jennifer and playfully shoved her shoulder. "Don't you feel like a real-life hero?"

Jennifer chuckled. "Sometimes. Though, you were great with Braxton. He took to you really quickly."

"Kids love me."

"It's because you're still a kid," Jennifer said.

"Thanks."

Dawson's phone dinged, signaling a text.

Asa: You coming to the garage? Jacob has something to show you.

Dawson typed out a quick reply.

Dawson: Be there in an hour.

"You have big plans this afternoon?" Dawson asked.

Jennifer flipped through her small notebook as she walked. "Nope."

Jennifer was about as introverted as Dawson was extroverted, which meant his mission as her co-worker was to slowly fold her into his friend group. If she spent her days home alone because she wanted to, that was fine, but he tried to at least offer her something to do where a few close friends were involved every once in a while.

"I'm heading over to Beau's garage to meet Asa and Jacob. Wanna come?"

"I would, but I don't want to," Jennifer said without looking up.

"Suit yourself." He'd given it a fair shot.

"See you later, Keller," she said with a wave over her shoulder as she slid into her cruiser.

The rest of the workday should have wrapped up quickly, but his worry about Olivia kept jutting into his thoughts like a kid playing peekaboo–always reminding him he could find a million ways to think about her.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket the minute he walked out of the station, pressing the name "Chicken Tender" in his contacts like it was second nature.

Olivia answered on the second ring. "Is this an emergency?"

Her no-nonsense voice was out today, greeting him like a well-meaning mother. "That depends. How is my queen?"

"You have got to stop calling me that. People are going to think we're more than friends."

Dawson hummed. "I see no issue with that."

His relationship with Olivia had grown in interesting ways over the years. She'd gone from his best friend's little sister who wanted to tag along wherever the boys went, to the alluring, beautiful woman he'd give his left pinky toe to spend every second of every day with.

Somehow, she still thought he was joking when he poured his heart out.

Olivia groaned. "I'm fine. You caught me at a bad time yesterday."

Dawson unlocked his truck and got in. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure you're gonna regret it if you call me during work hours again without a broken bone."

Olivia was a nurse, and she took her work very seriously. She told him once that her friends–as she called the patients–deserved her undivided attention during work hours, and he respected that commitment.

"What about a papercut?" Dawson asked.

"Bye, Dawson," Olivia sang before ending the call.

He pocketed his phone and headed toward Beau's garage, somewhat assured that Olivia was okay.

What could Jacob have to show him? It probably had something to do with the classic car Dawson had basically given him for his eleventh birthday. They'd been fixing it up together for months now, and things were starting to come together.

He pulled up at Blackwater Automotive and parked next to Asa and Beau's trucks. Jacob's excited chatter floated out of the open bay door, but Dawson needed to have a chat with Beau first.

The offices and waiting area were small but surprisingly cozy for a mechanic shop. Olivia deserved a gold medal for all the work she did at her brother's garage. Dawson would bet his last paycheck Beau hadn't asked Olivia to do a single thing around here. She saw a need and took it upon herself to fix it.

He rapped his knuckles on the metal office door before letting himself in. "Hey, boss."

Beau stood next to a filing cabinet rummaging through folders. He didn't look up at the intrusion. "What's up?"

Dawson propped his arm on top of the filing cabinet. "Have you talked to Olivia lately?"

Subtlety was for the weak.

It wasn't anything new that she was first and foremost in his thoughts, but after seeing her cry, she'd basically bought real estate in his head and settled in for the long haul.

Beau looked up from the files. "I talked to her this morning. Why?"

Olivia was Beau's sister, and she looked after him like a mother hen. Since their mom died a few years ago, Olivia made it her mission in life to make sure Beau stayed on the straight and narrow.

"Did she sound okay?" Dawson asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

Beau was about as observant as a stump, but he cared about his sister, whether he acknowledged it or not.

"I ran into her yesterday. Well, I pulled her over."

"Smooth move, Casanova," Beau said. "Was she really speeding, or were you pestering her?"

Dawson held up a finger. "I'll have you know that I do not pester her. I don't know why you'd think that."

"You do. All the time," Beau confirmed. "All. The. Time."

"For your information, she was speeding. In a school zone."

Beau shut the cabinet and finally gave his attention to the topic. "That doesn't sound like her."

"I know! But the worst part is she started crying while we were talking."

No part of the interaction he had with Olivia yesterday was normal. His usually cool, calm, and collected queen was on edge from the moment he showed up at her window.

Beau tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. "She cried? That doesn't sound like her either. I don't think I've seen her cry since…"

Beau didn't finish the sentence, but Dawson knew. She hadn't cried since their mom died. At least not publicly.

He'd never forget that awful time. Martha Lawrence had always been a pillar of strength in the Blackwater community. Her sudden death shook the whole county.

"Yeah. But she didn't tell me why she was upset. Just that she had a bad day."

"Maybe she really just had a bad day. She's tough, but she's not a robot," Beau said.

"She cried, dude. She never cries." How could her brother not see the urgency here?

Beau settled into a chair at the desk and stared at the computer screen. The dirty mechanic looked out of place in an office, even if the desk was just as stained as he was. "She's a big girl, but I've heard women have feelings. Tears are normal. And let's be honest, she has a million friends, but Mom was her rock. She doesn't have that anymore."

Martha's death had hit Dawson's life like a brick through a window. She'd been like a second mother to him, and Olivia's relationship with her mom was the stuff of legends. They were cut from the same cloth. As much as he missed Martha, Olivia probably hadn't gotten over the loss, even after all these years.

Could that really be the reason Olivia was upset? Granted, he'd had plenty of nightmares after Martha died where Olivia was distraught and he couldn't get to her.

"Maybe she had a bad day at work," Beau offered.

"She was off work yesterday, and I doubt the chick clique hurt her feelings," Dawson said.

Beau scoffed. "You never know. She didn't speak to anyone for a week when that hen died last year."

"RIP Gemma," Dawson said.

Beau pointed out the office window that looked into the garage. "Jacob has been waiting on you."

"Oh! Right." He'd almost forgotten about the reason he was here. Dashing out into the garage bay, he caught the tail end of what Jacob was saying.

"What do you think? Red or silver?" Jacob asked as he rubbed his smooth chin. If only the kid knew what kind of changes were coming for him in the next few years.

Dawson shuddered, remembering puberty for a second only to shove those embarrassing memories into the back corner of his mind where they belonged.

"Red. Obviously," Dawson answered before jerking to a stop. "Wait. What are we talking about?"

"Dawson!" Jacob turned around and grabbed something off the toolbox. He lifted a model car in both hands–a Porsche 911 in the classic guards red. "What do you think?"

"Whoa. Definitely red," Dawson said as he reached for the model.

"But silver is their signature color," Jacob said.

Dawson lifted the small car. "But have you seen this? That is hot."

Jacob's smile grew, and he clapped his hands. "Yeah. Red looks good on it."

Dawson checked out the life-size Porsche 911 in the bay beside them. It was a far cry from the shiny vision in his hands. The interior was torn out and resting on the garage floor. The dingy white exterior had seen its better days in the last century, and nothing under the hood was operating yet.

"It's gonna be awesome when you finish it," Dawson said as he handed the model back to Jacob.

"Hey, Dad. Can I wear this color in the wedding?" Jacob asked, eyeing the bright red with fascination and wonder.

Asa froze where he leaned under the hood. "That's a little flashy, don't you think?"

Dawson rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Asa was getting married in a few weeks, and his son, Jacob, was probably more excited than the bride and groom.

Jacob studied the model again. "Maybe, but it would definitely look cool."

Dawson held up a finger. "Wait, are you taking votes on what the groomsmen get to wear? Because I have ideas."

"Don't let Dawson vote on the suits," Beau said as he made his way over to the Porsche. "I've never been a groomsman before. What else am I supposed to be doing besides playing dress up?"

"Not much," Asa said. "Lyric and Olivia are taking care of everything. I do need to know if you'll be bringing a date. We need a head count."

"That's a no for me," Beau said.

Dawson grabbed Asa's shoulder. "Hold the phone. We get to bring a date?"

Beau shook his head. "Only you would think it's a privilege that you're expected to bring a date."

"Can I have a date too?" Jacob asked.

Asa looked wide-eyed at his kid. "Do you have someone in mind?"

Jacob shrugged one shoulder. "I'm sure I could find someone."

"You bet you can!" Dawson said as he rested an arm around Jacob's shoulders. "You're a catch. The ladies will be lining up to be your date."

Asa glared at Dawson. "He's eleven, not seventeen."

"But he's a gentleman. Women are drawn to those at any age," Dawson explained.

"Pretty sure you mean women are drawn to bad boys," Beau said.

Dawson narrowed his eyes at Beau. "Fight me on it."

Asa pinched the bridge of his nose. "The invitation said you get a plus one. Did you even read it?"

Dawson looked around the garage. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, you. Did you read the invitation?"

Dawson assumed he'd hang out with his friends at the wedding. He was a groomsman, so it wasn't as if he could sit with someone during the ceremony.

"No. I looked at the date and threw it away. I know when to show up."

"Well, now you know. You get a plus one," Asa said.

Images of Olivia laughing and dancing in a flowing dress filled his mind. He'd pulled his phone out of his pocket and had his message thread with her open before thinking twice. The name Chicken Tender with a chicken emoji beside it sat at the top of his screen.

He didn't want to ask her to be his official wedding date in a text. Call him old-fashioned, but if he was going to finally get a yes out of the one woman he wanted, seeing the look on her face was a must.

He typed up a message. It was after five, but he wanted her in a good mood for this talk.

Dawson: What are you doing tonight? Want to go to Barn Sour?

He pocketed his phone and tried to ignore the tingling heat under his collar. Did it make him a chicken if he wanted to do the asking in public? Maybe she would let him down easy if her answer was no.

His phone dinged again. Olivia's reply was a photo of her holding Genella up beside her smiling face.

Funny, Olivia would think the chicken was the star of that photo. Oh, how wrong she was. Olivia's dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her hazel eyes were lighter than usual. They always changed when she was happy, which was any time she was with her chickens.

A text came through right after the photo.

Chicken Tender: I'm just getting to Cluckingham Palace. Want to come see Genella?

That was the wrong question. Did he care about seeing Genella? Sure. Did he want to be wherever Olivia was? Absolutely.

Dawson: I'll be there in ten.

"Change of plans, guys. I gotta run. I'll let you know about my plus one later today."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself," Beau said.

"Here's hoping," Dawson said as he turned and jogged toward his truck.

If all went as planned, Olivia would be his wedding date, and he'd be on the fast track out of the friend zone.