Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Christmas Bash

Echo

T he day seems an endless stream of festive greetings and pouring warm drinks because the temperature has dropped. Everyone is into the holiday spirit. Even grumpy Jim wishes me a Happy Holidays with a smile. I’ll return a Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, HappyHanukkah, and Feliz Navidad, however my customers celebrate.

But as the afternoon draws on, I spend more time looking at the door, waiting for Dean. He’s late, but I know the grotto is going to be popular and we’re busy here, so Randy won’t complain about me working overtime.

“Echo, Santa’s outside waiting for you,” Randy bellows from the other side of the bar.

Finally!

I don’t hide the huge grin on my face. “Thanks, boss.”

“Get out of here.”

That’s the nicest thing he’s said to me all day.

I’m virtually on my knees after a late shift followed by an early morning, but at least I get time to be with my man. Dean might have to pinch me awake, but we’ll be together.

Randy waves me away. I call out goodbye to the other staff and grab my jacket, almost jogging out the door to the parking lot.

I see Dean standing by the Ford. He seems deep in thought because he doesn’t notice me as the door closes.

“You are the best thing I’ve seen all day,” I call out as I lope toward him. He’s so cute, dressed in the Santa suit under his long coat for his last gig at the Bash, the red hat on his head.

I grin at him as he looks up, and I hold out my arms. “I’m free! I don’t know how long I’ll stay awake, but I’m all yours.”

Dean stays where he is, not returning my smile. I falter, letting my arms drop to my side. Why does he look so upset?

“I’m sorry,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I go still, watching him carefully. “You’re sorry?”

He nods, and he won’t meet my gaze.

“What are you sorry for?” I keep my tone gentle though I want to yell at him.

“I can’t do this,” he bursts out.

“Do what?”

He turns away from me, his shoulders slumped. “Us. I can’t do us.”

“Why not?” What happened between me leaving for work and now? Something has spooked him, it’s plain to see. But what the heck has scared him so much? He’s like the nervous, unhappy man I first met. I thought we’d gotten past that stage. “Dean, talk to me.”

“Marty.”

I hold back a sigh. “What about Marty?”

He licks his lips nervously. “I don’t deserve to be happy.”

I blink at that. What the hell? “Of course you deserve to be happy, honey. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“I had my happiness. It should be enough.”

I press my lips together. “We need to talk.”

He shakes his head. “I need to get back to the grotto.”

“I’m coming with you. I don’t care what happens with us…” Liar, of course I care. But getting this stupid idea out of his head is more important. “But I’m your friend and I have your back.”

Dean looks up, regarding me for the first time, his expression startled. “You still want to be friends, even though we just broke up?”

It’s a sharp reminder that where love is concerned, the man has the emotional maturity of the eighteen-year-old he’d been when Marty died.

I shiver, the cold wind sweeping around the parking lot cutting through me. “When do you need to be at the grotto?”

“Four. I did an early shift, but they need me again.”

Dammit, no time to take him home and talk.

“Let’s walk, hon.”

“You want to walk back to the Bash?”

I need a clear head and time to handle this conversation, but I’m not going to tell him that. I nod, and he falls into step next to me.

I walk for a while before I speak. “Tell me what happened today, Dean.”

He takes so long to speak I think he’s going to deny anything happened.

“Marty’s parents brought their granddaughter to the grotto.”

I close my eyes briefly. “They’re back in town?”

“For Christmas.”

“And no one warned you.”

“No.” He gives a short, unamused laugh. “No one warned them, either.”

I am going to kill someone. I don’t know who, but someone. I’ll start with the mayor and work my way through the town. I feel desperately sorry for Marty’s parents too. It must have been a shock to come face-to-face with their past.

“Do they blame you for Marty’s death?”

He shakes his head. “No, the truck driver was clearly to blame, and Marty was driving. They don’t blame me for his death. They blame me for living when their son didn’t.”

“They said that to you?” I feel anger boiling in my gut.

“They don’t have to say it out loud. I can see it in their expressions. It’s why they moved away. Every time they saw me or one of his friends they were reminded of their loss.”

“That’s understandable.” It had to be hard being faced with constant reminders of what their son would never have. I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child. “But why do you want to walk away from us, honey?”

“Because I shouldn’t be happy when Marty will never get the same.”

I stop on the sidewalk and tug Dean over to face me. “Marty is dead, Dean.” I see him flinch at my harsh words, and I’m sorry, but it has to be said.

“I know that,” he mumbles.

“Do you? Because it seems to me you’ve never let him go in here.” I press a hand over his heart.

“I should have died with him.” The hoarse confession hangs in the darkness like a shard of ice.

“But you didn’t,” I say gently. “You lived, and you’ve been blaming yourself for that ever since.”

He stares at me, tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t know how to stop blaming myself.”

A solo tear rolls down his cheek to get lost in the Santa beard.

I take a chance and step into his space, gathering him in my arms. “Let me help.”

Dean shudders and leans against me, his beard tickling me as he presses his face into the crook of my neck. I rub soothing circles on his back.

We stay like this for a few moments. He’s crying, mourning his lost love, but I hope he’s understanding that he can live again. I’ll be by his side if he lets me, because I promised to be his friend.

Dean gives one last shudder and raises his head. He opens his mouth, but I put a finger over it.

“If the next words out of your mouth are I’m sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’ve just had a huge reminder of your past.”

He kisses my finger. “I was going to say thank you. And I’m sorry.”

I growl and he chuckles, even if it does sound forced.

“I do need to get back to the grotto.”

“I’ll come wait with you.”

I wasn’t going to leave him on his own if Marty’s parents could be there.

“You’re going to be Mister Elf,” he says, his smile genuine this time.

“I haven’t got the costume,” I protest.

“I brought it with me.”

Of course he had.

The last kid vanishes out of the grotto with his Dad, talking excitedly about something. I look over at Dean sitting on Santa’s chair. I swear he has his eyes closed.

“Are you asleep?”

“No. Yes.”

“There are more exciting places to sleep than here. Your bed for instance.”

“Then I’d have to move. I don’t want to move.”

“You’re gonna get cold here, honey. Why don’t we go home.”

“Which home?”

“Yours.”

I know Dean needs to be in his own bed tonight, whether I’m there or not.

Dean lets me haul him to his feet. “Don’t you want to stay for the rest of the Bash?”

“There’ll be another one,” I say, knowing Collier’s Creek always had another celebration in the wings.

We dress in hoodies and sweats over the costumes because it’s freezing now.

“I look huge,” he grumbles, looking over his shoulder. “Does my butt look big in this?”

He does look rounded. I sensibly keep my mouth shut.

I wrap him in his coat, hat, and gloves, ignoring the amused look the two women manning the grotto give us.

“Bye Charlotte, bye Suzie. Thank you for being Santa’s helpers.” Dean hugs them as we leave the grotto. They look startled. I get it. This is a new Dean. Then they give us a cheery wave and finally, we are free.

Or not.

I see the mayor and his wife head toward us.

“Dammit,” I mutter.

“What’s the matter?” Dean’s so tired I don’t think he’s noticed his brother.

The mayor smiles at us. “Dean, Echo. Or should it be Santa and Mister Elf?”

I nod at them, not sure whether to offer my hand or not. “Sir, ma’am.”

“Daniel, please,” the mayor says, “and this is JoBeth.”

I have to bite back the urge not to say, “Yessir,” and salute.

“Hey, Danny. JoBeth.” Dean leans forward to kiss his sister-in-law on the cheek.

“Where’s Kathy?”

“Anywhere except where her parents are. She’s with her friends.” JoBeth sighs. “Feral, the lot of them.” But her expression is resigned, rather than annoyed. Dean has told me how much Kathy is adored.

“I’ve told them not to get arrested,” the mayor—Daniel—says. “The sheriff’s got better things to do than arrest my kid.”

Are they really that wild? Dean has never said that. “Isn’t your daughter the one that makes cakes?”

JoBeth turns to me. “Do you like cake, Echo?”

Before I can answer Dean slaps a hand over my mouth. “Do not answer that. Never say yes to the offer of cake from JoBeth or Kathy.”

“I can make cakes,” JoBeth says pointedly. “I just don’t get a chance.”

“Kathy makes weapons of mass destruction.”

“They aren’t that bad,” Daniel says.

From the way Dean and JoBeth burst out laughing, I guessed they are indeed, that bad.

"It's a good thing that girl can cook," JoBeth grumbles.

Now I’m confused. Dean chuckles. “Cooking and baking are two different things.”

“I buy takeout,” I confess.

I expect JoBeth to scold me, but instead she says, “It’s hard to get interested in cooking when you work long hours. We tease Kathy but she’s been a blessing since Danny became mayor, and I work for the sheriff. She always makes sure there’s a hot meal on the table if I can’t get home in time.”

“Dean’s a good cook,” Daniel says.

“I know, sir. Uh…Daniel.”

He waves away my apology. “It’s all right. I know it’s hard to separate the man from the job.”

“Even JD and Danny don’t call each other by their first names,” JoBeth says.

It takes me a moment to remember who JD is. Oh, Sheriff JD Morgan. I’m going to have to get used to the casual way they talk about people in authority if I stay with Dean. It just didn’t happen back home.

“I’ll have more time for cooking now I’ve finished being Santa,” Dean says.

He’s still awake…just.

I put an arm around his shoulders as he leans against me.

“I need to go home,” Dean says.

Daniel nods, but he hesitates. “You saw Marty’s parents today.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Which little bird told you that?”

“Who didn’t?” Daniel asks drily. “I received five phone calls in the space of five minutes.”

“Someone should have warned Dean,” I growl.

“It’s okay, Echo,” Dean says, leaning into me as if he were trying to comfort me . “Yeah, I saw them. They’re in town for Christmas.”

“Were they civil to you?” Daniel asks. He narrows his eyes at my comment but doesn’t say anything.

Dean shrugs. “As civil as I could expect. They never liked me, you know that. But we exchanged pleasantries and left it at that.”

Daniel shoots me a look, and I nod, understanding the message. You’d better be there when he falls apart.

Except too late, bro. He’s already done that, and I was there to pick up the pieces.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Quit hovering, Danny. It was horrid, but Echo took care of me. Now I’m going home to bed.”

“Good. Just don’t do anything stupid like break up with Echo because you feel guilty about Marty,” JoBeth says.

I don’t look at Dean, but the temptation is huge.

Dean gives a wry smile. “Tried that. He ignored me.”

Daniel flashes me a look bordering on respect, then turns back to his brother. “At least one of you is sensible.”

“I’m taking you home before Danny starts telling you all my secrets,” Dean says to me. “Let’s go.”

“He probably knows more about you than I do,” Daniel says.

I doubt that, but I plan to know everything I can about this man.

Dean herds me toward the exit before I have the chance to say anything.

“Night, Dean. Night, Echo,” Daniel calls after us.

Dean ignores his brother. I wave a good night to them, and we wander off.

Dean lets out a huff when we’re out of earshot. “I’m sorry. Danny can be intense. It’s that helicopter tendency.”

I kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. He cares about you. That’s a good thing.”

He pushes me into the shadow of a large tree.

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought we were going home.”

“We are,” Dean agrees, “but I just want to say thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I kiss him gently, then we walk away from the Bash, holding hands under the night sky.

I’m not settled, far from it. But right now, I just want to be in bed, the two of us together.

Back at home, I make nice with Ariel for leaving her alone so much. Then we get ready for bed. I can’t tell you the relief when Dean settles in my arms in his bed, warm and solid and happy. We’re in T-shirts and sleep shorts, neither of us in the mood to make it about sex. I pull the bed clothes over us so it’s just the two of us. Ariel is padding around our feet, but up here, it’s just us.

I hold him close, needing him to feel me, to know I’m here.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, reading my mood.

I brush my lips over his temple. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Dean buries his face in the crook of my neck. “I mean it. I just panicked, you know? Seeing them again for the first time in twenty years.”

I curse myself for not being there with him. We spend so much time together, and the one time he needs me, I’m not there.

“Stop that,” he says, raising his head, obviously reading my expression.

“I should have been there.”

“I think seeing us together would have been hard for them. A sign I’d moved on, while Marty never can.”

“They can’t expect you to stay single forever.”

He gives me a wry smile. “Grief is not logical, sweetheart.”

“Understood.” But I hold him closer. “You can grieve and still be with another man.”

He sighs, a warm gust over my skin. “I’ve done my grieving. And my hiding. Now I need to live.”

He didn’t say living with me, and for a second, I’m disappointed, but maybe he didn’t want to presume. I wouldn’t push it. Baby steps.