Page 27 of Love for a Lifetime

The elevator dinged, and Olivia fell into step beside Lyric. If Dawson was coherent, he would have some clever comment about how they’d rushed over here to be by his side. Even the thought of the coming jokes had a smile blooming on her face.

Olivia knocked on the door of room 312 and leaned close to it.

“Come in!” said a gravelly voice on the other side of the door.

Olivia opened it and stepped in first. Dawson was lying back on a bed with sheets draped over his large frame. His hair was tousled, and his hand resting on the side of the bed had remnants of blood on it.

Jennifer Freeman sat in a chair by the window, and both of them had blistered red faces.

Swallowing past her constricted throat, Olivia looked back and forth between the police officers. “Are you two okay?”

Dawson pointed to his bloodshot eyes. “I got caught in the pepper spray.” He jerked a thumb toward Jennifer. “She’s crying because she’s terribly worried about me.”

“Shut up, Keller,” Jennifer snapped. Her voice had the same rasp as Dawson’s.

The female officer rested her head back and closed her eyes. Jennifer was the textbook definition of beauty. Blonde hair, green eyes, tall frame, fit build. She’d been at the department for years, and Olivia had never once heard her talk about a boyfriend or a date.

Intrusive thoughts won every once in a while, and Olivia assumed Dawson would fall for Jennifer. What man wouldn’t? She was gorgeous, strong, independent, and though she didn’t smile much, she was always kind and helpful.

“Thank you all for coming. I always knew I would be surrounded by beautiful women when my time came. I can die a happy man now.”

Olivia scoffed. “Did you hit your head too? Where’s your mom? Has someone called her yet?”

Dawson tilted his head toward the door. “She went to get coffee. I told her she needs to go home. It’s boring sitting here.”

“I second that,” Jennifer said without lifting her head.

Olivia moved to his side and studied him from head to foot. “So they admitted you? That must mean it was pretty bad.”

“Not terrible,” Dawson said as he pulled the sheet away from his right leg, revealing bandaging that spread from his knee to his ankle.

The rest of his leg was crisscrossed with scars. Some were different shades of pink while others were pale.

Olivia’s shoulders hunched in. She’d seen his scars plenty of times, but the shock never dissipated. Some were from other animal attacks. Some were childhood injuries. Whatever the causes, Dawson had never been easy on his body.

“Not terrible?” Lyric asked from behind Olivia. “It’s half your leg.”

“They just wanted me to have a few rounds of this antibiotic,” Dawson said, pointing at the hanging bag attached to his IV. “I’ll go home with some stitches, more meds, and burning eyes.”

“Thanks for all the paperwork,” Jennifer said.

“Oh, and I should have another nasty battle scar. The ladies are gonna love it.”

The ladies. Most women already loved Dawson. He had more friends than Olivia had chickens, which was saying a lot.

But as far as Dawson’s girlfriends, Olivia could count them on one hand. She’d gotten a front-row seat to a few of those relationships, and for some reason, he always seemed awkward on dates. It was as if he forgot how to flirt or carry on a casual conversation.

Maybe he got nervous when he liked someone. There were times she’d wondered if he actually liked her in more than a platonic way underneath all the flirting and banter. Then she remembered the way he was with the women he’d dated. He’d never been nervous around her, so that probably meant he only saw her as a friend.

“Whatever,” Olivia said as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the bag of Skittles she’d bought at the gas station on the way over. “Here’s your ‘congrats on surviving’ present.”

Dawson caught the bag and ripped it open. “Yes! Finally, some sustenance.”

Jennifer lifted her head and frowned. “I offered to get you dinner half an hour ago.”

“I know, but I really wanted something better for me.” He tipped the bag into his hand and tossed some in his mouth. “I’m watching my figure.”

The door opened, and Dawson’s mom walked in carrying a coffee cup. Her eyes widened, and she threw her free hand in the air. “It’s a party!”

---