Welcome Home for Christmas

by Annie Rains

  Excitement fluttered around inside her chest. The kind of excitement she’d had as a child awaiting Christmas. Back then she’d been looking forward to the presents under the tree, candy in her stocking, and the hope of catching Santa Claus in the act. Today she was looking forward to whatever Troy had to offer.

  —

  Troy had given out two warnings today, but he hadn’t ticketed the guys because it was Friday, he had a date tonight, and he was in an extra good mood. It was now five o’clock. He grabbed his keys to go home. He couldn’t wait to see Allison. A part of him had hesitated in asking her to come to his place. He’d mostly kept his fixer-upper private, kind of like a secret hideout or an oversized fort for a grown-up kid who still liked to make them. This hideaway allowed him power tools and lots of trips to the hardware store, though. It wasn’t exactly ready for visitors. Or sleepovers. But he wanted her to see it. He thought maybe she would see the big picture of what it could be with a little spit-shine polishing.

  When he got home, he straightened up a bit as he walked through the house, showered, and dressed, then climbed back in his truck to go pick up Allison. He took the route he’d been taking every time he went anywhere over the last week, driving slow in case he saw something suspicious. There hadn’t been any break-ins over the last twenty-four hours. That meant that the culprit had either changed his ways (unlikely), was deathly ill and unable to go about robbing everyone (also unlikely), or was waiting for an opportune time to strike again (probable).

  Not that this was Troy’s business. This wasn’t his jurisdiction, he reminded himself. He had no power here. Still, he looked out his window as he drove, inspecting every house window. It was dark already. Most of the cars in the driveways were gone. People were out doing last-minute Christmas shopping and getting together with friends and family.

  There were lights everywhere, but one specific light caught his attention as he drove. A single circular yellow light like he’d seen before shone inside a house that was otherwise decorated with only rainbow-colored lights. A flashlight.

  Troy slowed his truck and cut the headlights, then he reached for his cellphone.

  “Seaside Police Department,” someone said on the other line.

  “Yeah, I’d like to report suspicious activity on Branchwood Road. House three-eleven,” he said, pulling off to the roadside. “I think the house is being robbed.” He kept his gaze targeted on his rearview mirror, watching the house. He didn’t want to scrapple with this guy himself, but he would if it came to it.

  Troy gave the person on the phone more details, then hung up and reached for the concealed weapon in the glove compartment. He quietly closed his truck door and headed across the lawn to the house in question and waited. He hoped the Seaside police arrived before the burglar attempted to get away.

  Minutes ticked away slowly and then sirens began to grow louder.

  “Really?” Here he was trying his damnedest to be quiet, and the cops were coming in hot with sirens. Unless the burglar was deaf, he’d be making a run for it any minute now.

  The back door shot open.

  Without thinking, Troy sprang forward. “Hey, you!”

  The burglar whirled around. Mr. Grinch himself was carrying a pillowcase stuffed to the brim with presents.

  Troy didn’t see a weapon, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one hidden inside the many layers the guy wore.

  The burglar dropped the bag and started to run. No way was Troy letting him go free to do this again. Not this time. He lunged after the guy, grabbed the back of his shirt, and locked a strong arm around his neck. Surprisingly, the guy didn’t put up much of a fight.

  A police car squealed into the driveway.

  “Sergeant Matthews with the Camp Leon Military Police Department,” he shouted, maintaining his hold on the perp.

  “I have my gun pulled. No sudden moves,” the arresting police officer told the burglar. Another officer hurried over with cuffs. In a matter of minutes, it was over. The Seaside burglar had been apprehended.

  Troy stepped back and took a good look at the perp. He thought maybe he’d seen him at the Veterans’ Center recently, but couldn’t place him. Allison probably knew who he was.

  Allison. Oh, shit. He was late picking her up.

  “Sergeant Matthews, I’m going to need you to come back to the station for questioning.”

  “Does it have to be right now?” Troy asked as more police cars pulled up to the curb.

  “Hot date?” the officer teased.

  “Actually, yeah.”

  “Afraid it has to be now.”

  Troy nodded, reaching into his pocket for his cellphone, which was suddenly MIA. He must’ve dropped it on the ground during the brief tackle hold he’d given the burglar. “All right. Can I use a phone when I get there? I need to call someone.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Great.” He’d tell Allison what happened when he got to the police station and she’d understand. Nothing lost, except a couple of the precious few hours that they’d committed to each other.

  Chapter 13

  Allison shook her head as the building ball of disappointment anchored in her belly. How many times had she said she’d never let another guy hurt her again? She’d been waiting for an hour and Troy hadn’t showed for their date. He hadn’t called, either. Nope, he’d just stood her up.

  She didn’t know why she was so surprised, but she was. She’d thought Troy was different. Of course, she’d thought the same of James, and Bryan, and Lance before that.

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Well, unlike those times, she wasn’t just going to sit around and continue to wait. That’s what the old Allison would’ve done. She was different now. Stronger. More resilient. Maybe that meant she was ready to start dating again.

  Just not Troy.

  Grabbing her keys, she ignored the ache in her heart and headed toward the front door. Julie had invited her to Heroes for drinks. She’d declined because she’d had plans with Troy. Or so she thought. But now having drinks with the girls sounded like just the medicine she needed.

  Her gaze paused on her phone. She didn’t need it because all she’d do was stare at it and wait for it to ring. Leaving it on the kitchen counter, she stepped out into the cold night. Her heart gave a small pang as she opened her front door. Some part of her had hoped that Troy would be there, with some wonderful excuse for why he was late. And then she’d forgive him, and continue falling fast and hard for him.

  Climbing into her car, she pointed it downtown, blaring music to block her thoughts as she drove. When she pulled into the bar’s parking lot, she felt marginally better. She entered the bar and scanned the room for Julie or one of the other ladies from town. Spotting Julie with her sister Kat at a table in the back, Allison headed in that direction.

  She froze as someone whistled off to the side.

  Her gut clenched at the familiar sound. There was no way her ex was here. She’d heard he had a new girlfriend. They should be holed up somewhere.

  The whistle came again. The same one James had used on her when he was flirting.

  Turning, her heart sank. Yep, it was James, and he’d spotted her. At least he didn’t have his new girlfriend draped on his arm.

  She forced a smile, but her face felt the way it did when she was taking out the trash and trying not to breathe in the rancid odor. “James,” she said.

  “Looking for company tonight?” He pulled out an empty chair at his table. She got some satisfaction out of seeing him sitting there alone, even though she had absolutely no interest in him anymore. She was over him. Now she needed to do the work to get over Troy. Which might prove a little harder, even though they had never officially been together.

  “I am looking for company, actually. But not your kind.” She’d wanted Troy’s company tonight, but he’d stood her up. There was something about Troy that made her believe he was different.

  “Oh, come on, sweetness,” James slurred.
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  She cringed. “Stop talking to me now.” She started to walk off.

  “At least let me buy you a drink,” he offered, following behind her.

  She paused and turned. “I’d love a drink. So I could pour it down the front of your pants. Now go back to your table before I do something that will embarrass you,” she said through clenched teeth.

  A frown settled on the face that she’d once considered handsome. Funny, how her perception of him had changed, and he’d transformed into the ugliest man alive.

  “No fun at all,” he said. “That was always your problem. Always bitching, wanting things your way. I’d rather drink alone than drink with you. Beautiful, but boring as milk toast.” He smiled at her, and God, she really wanted to snatch one of the drinks off someone’s table and throw it in his face.

  Instead she pressed her lips together, still frozen where she stood. She wasn’t really in the mood to hang out with the girls anymore. And they hadn’t spotted her yet. She veered back toward the Exit sign, hating that she was opting out. Hating Troy because he had led her here tonight.

  She stormed out of the bar and headed back to her car. But she didn’t plan to go home just yet. To sit and wait and mope. No, thank you. Instead, she drove down to the Seaside Pier, got out, and walked to the very end where there was a bench waiting for a lonely settler. She sat and stared out at the water, listening to the rhythmic crash as it came up on the shore behind her. She hated feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn’t going to anymore. She was going to count this as her final lesson in matters of the heart. She’d thought she’d learned this lesson before, but apparently not.

  She watched the ocean for another hour and then she finally pulled herself off the bench and drove home. Troy wasn’t waiting at her door and there was no message, either. Wearily, she went to bed and buried herself under the covers. She just hoped that Troy wouldn’t stand up the kids at Mercy’s Place tomorrow. If he did, she’d never forgive him and he might just land himself another bullet on his ass. And this one wouldn’t be a tattoo.

  —

  The Seaside Police Department was the picture of chaos and disorder on this Friday night. Troy had been waiting to talk to one of the detectives for thirty minutes. And someone had promised to let him use the phone when he’d gotten here, but no one had made good on that promise. He was in such trouble with Allison.

  Finally, a police officer in civilian clothes came up and shook his hand. “I’m Detective Hansley,” he said. “Sorry about the wait.”

  Troy shrugged, because what else could he do? He understood the job. Some days there was more work than could be done in one shift, or two shifts at that. “I get it,” Troy said. “Can I at least use the phone to make a quick call? I had plans tonight and wasn’t able to explain that I wasn’t coming.”

  Detective Hansley frowned. “Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Troy said.

  Detective Hansley handed him the receiver on his desk phone.

  Troy stared at it, then looked up at Hansley. “Can you look up a citizen’s name for me? Her number is programmed into my cellphone and I don’t have that on me.” If he had, he wouldn’t have been in this situation.

  Detective Hansley grimaced. “I’m not supposed to do that.”

  Troy leaned forward. “And I wasn’t supposed to catch the Seaside burglar because this isn’t my district. Sometimes we have to stretch the rules in order to make things right.”

  Detective Hansley nodded. “Indeed, we do.” He typed into his computer, grabbed a pen, and wrote down Allison’s number.

  “Thanks,” Troy said, taking the paper and dialing. It rang until it went to voice mail and Troy cursed. He tried again. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chanted, as if that would somehow help Allison move to the phone. She was pissed at him.

  Her voice mail picked up.

  “Allison, it’s Troy. I’m sorry about being late. I got caught up with, uh…”—he looked at Detective Hansley—“police business. I’ll fill you in when I leave the SPD. I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you, though….Okay, bye.” He handed the receiver back to the detective. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The detective nodded and started the questioning. An hour later, Troy walked out of the Seaside Police Department tired and on edge. He drove by Allison’s, but she wasn’t home. Returning to the scene of the crime, he retraced his steps to his blinking cellphone tossed under a cluster of bushes by the house. He’d missed four calls from Allison earlier in the night.

  Shit.

  Maybe tomorrow she’d wake up and not be angry with him. Then he could explain what had happened and they could continue with their weekend arrangement. Maybe, since they’d lost an entire night together, they could even extend their arrangement.

  Yeah. He was going to hope for the best. This was the season of miracles after all.

  Troy awoke the next morning feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He’d tossed restlessly all night in his bed waiting for the sun to come up so he could go explain things to Allison. He was a hero, but he didn’t feel like one right now. A hero would’ve caught the burglar and then called his date in a timely manner to cancel.

  He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sat up. Six a.m. He wanted to catch Allison first thing, before she had an opportunity to start fuming over the fact that he’d stood her up. Easier to cool off a lukewarm mood than a spitfire boiling one.

  He dressed and drove to the Seaside Café for two cups of coffee and two extra-large cinnamon buns, which he remembered were her favorite. Sugar was a nice incentive. Passing the newsstand, he saw the headline: SEASIDE BURGLAR CAUGHT IN THE ACT. He paid the fifty cents to get a copy and took it, along with the caffeine and sugar to Allison’s. It was seven o’clock when he finally rang the doorbell. Early, but he couldn’t wait any longer to make things right.

  He waited on the porch. No answer.

  He rang the doorbell again. Then he pulled out his cellphone and dialed. The line connected, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Listen, I know you’re mad, but I have a good explanation.”

  “I’m sure you think that you do,” she said. Not lukewarm, he thought. Boiling.

  “I also have coffee and a cinnamon bun for you. You can consume them while I talk. And if you don’t like what I have to say, then you can ask me to leave.”

  The lock clicked and the door opened. Allison stared back at him, arms crossed, lips pressed. Otherwise, gorgeous.

  She stepped back and allowed him to come inside. He handed her the peace offering he’d brought, which she snatched and carried to the kitchen table. He followed her over and laid the newspaper in front of her as she sat down. Troy sat in the chair beside her, waiting for her to read the headline.

  She sipped her coffee first, then took a bite of her cinnamon roll. “You can start talking now,” she finally said.

  “I thought the newspaper would be my icebreaker.”

  She glanced over, read for a moment, and gasped. “Oh, my God.” She pulled the paper closer and continued reading, gasping again. “Henry. Oh, no.” She shook her head as her posture wilted in the chair.

  Not the reaction Troy was expecting. “You know this guy?”

  She set her cinnamon bun down on a napkin. “He’s one of the veterans who comes to the Center. I gave him my lunch the other day because he was hungry. I thought he must’ve been down on his luck.” She looked up at him, no longer boiling. “I encouraged him to come to one of our groups….I can’t believe he’s the guy who’s been robbing people. How could I have been so wrong about him?”

  Troy shrugged. “He barely put up a fight.”

  “You caught him?”

  “On my way to see you. I lost my cellphone in the scuffle and had to go back to the police station to give my report. It was a big mess, but I’m here now. And I’m really sorry.”

  She blinked, looked at the newspaper, and then surprised him by laughing. “I’ve never gotten an excuse
as good as that one before.”

  “So, am I forgiven?”

  A sigh crossed her lips. “Last night sucked and it’s all because of you. But it’s not your fault, I guess. No need to apologize. You did the right thing.”

  Troy scooted his chair closer. “I’m sorry last night sucked. But I’m all yours all day. I’ll be Santa to your Mrs. Claus. Pretend boyfriend to your family. And whatever else you need me to be.” He scooted his chair again until it was touching hers; his body angled toward her.

  Her gaze slid toward him as she looked at him under her strawberry-colored lashes. “I was hoping to wake up with you in bed this morning.”

  “It’s still morning,” he said, voice lowering. “I’m still me.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make up for your sucky night last night.” He ran a hand up her thigh, watching her react to his touch. He’d never tire of that. “What do you say?”

  “I say Saturday mornings are for sleeping in.” She grabbed his hand and stood, pulling him back to her bedroom.

  —

  Sex. More sex. And then Troy took her out to breakfast. Her Saturday was looking up.

  Allison stared at Troy across their table at the Seaside Café. She’d gotten only a bite of the cinnamon roll he’d brought her, and after their morning activities, she was starving. Her stomach rumbled as she picked up her fork and started slicing into the stack of pancakes, covered with fresh fruit and drizzled with cherry syrup, in front of her. “All the toys are wrapped and have each child’s name on them,” she told him. “All you have to do is listen to their requests and hand each child their gift. Every kid loves Santa.”

  Troy nodded. His plate was a meat-lover’s dream. Bacon, ham, sausage. “I’m more worried about going to your folks’ house tonight.”

  She didn’t have any help to offer him there. Her mother had already texted her three times this morning. She’d set Troy’s place setting right beside them at the dinner table. Allison could only imagine the interrogation that would be happening over dinner. “It’ll be fine,” she lied.