Hope White - Christmas Haven

“Jules.” He pulled her against his chest. “Wake up.”

A choke-sob escaped her lips as she clung to his leather jacket, willing the images away.

“It’s okay. You’re home,” Morgan said.

Boy, did she feel home as she leaned into his solid chest and inhaled the scent of pine mixed with aftershave.

For a few seconds she basked in the feeling of security…of love. Then the flash of Morgan being shot, the life dimming from his eyes and the blood covering his shirt, shot a new wave of panic through her body.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” she said, breaking the embrace and casting a worried glance out the back window. They were at her mom’s.

“No one followed us,” Morgan offered as if reading her mind.

She whipped the car door open and charged up the driveway, needing to get away from him. The front door swung open and Mom opened her arms. Julie welcomed the gesture and held on tight.

“Hey, what’s all this?” her mom asked.

Julie couldn’t form words past the terror of her nightmare.

Morgan had been killed. Because of her.

It had only been a dream, but it felt real. She wouldn’t be responsible for the death of someone she cared about, especially not Morgan. Hadn’t she hurt him enough?

“Jules, what is it?” Mom pushed.

“I missed you.”

“Hey, Morgan,” Mom said over Julie’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Burns,” he greeted with concern in his voice.

“What did you do to my daughter?” she joked.

“She fell asleep in the truck and had a bad dream.”

Mom stroked Julie’s back. “Probably about work. Let’s get you some tea. Morgan, will you join us?”

“No,” Julie said, breaking the embrace, but keeping her eyes on her mom. “He’s got someplace to be.”

“Nonsense. I made chocolate-chip-bacon cookies especially for you, Chief,” she enticed.

“How could I say no to that?” Morgan handed Julie her backpack.

“Thanks.” She grabbed it, not making eye contact. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Oh, okay,” Mom said.

Julie rushed up the stairs, away from the nightmare, away from Morgan.

“French Vanilla or Earl Grey?” Mom called after her.

“You pick,” Julie said, not looking back. She couldn’t. The sight of Morgan, alive and well, standing in her hallway, would only send another wave of panic through her body.

She tossed her backpack onto the bed and padded into the bathroom. A splash of cold water would shock her out of the fright of the nightmare. Whenever she’d been awakened by a nightmare as a child, Mom would have her splash water on her cheeks. After a few seconds she and Mom would end up giggling at the mess she’d made, essentially blasting the nightmare’s effects to smithereens.

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and splashed away. Two, three, four times. Studying her reflection in the mirror she whispered, “What am I doing here?”

The nightmare made her realize she could have brought trouble to her hometown, perhaps putting innocent people in danger. Her mom. Her sister.

“Morgan,” she whispered.

She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to him because of Julie’s job. She’d left him years ago to give him the freedom to live his life and follow his own dreams. She knew if she’d committed to a life with him that he’d follow her to Seattle and attend college or find a job. But that wasn’t his path.

His path had been to follow in his dad’s footsteps and become a cop.

“Enough,” she scolded herself. She had to stop thinking about the past and figure out a way to stay safe. To keep her family safe.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come home,” she whispered.

But she desperately needed some time with Mom and Lana before she disappeared off the grid for good. She’d been careful to cover her tracks to prevent anyone from following her, so she’d spend a day or two here, crack her brightest smile and enjoy time spent with Mom, Lana…and Morgan.

No, being with Morgan wasn’t enjoyable. It was torture.

She closed her eyes, remembering the first part of her nightmare, the feel of his hand warming hers, the kiss…

“Stop,” she hushed, trying to wipe the image, the feel of their kiss out of her mind.

It did no good to remember the feeling when it wasn’t real. Well, it had been real ten years ago, but she was pretty sure Morgan felt anything but love toward her right now.

Of course not. She’d broken his heart to follow her own dream. Fine, that’s what she’d use as her shield. She’d talk about her fulfilling work as a counselor, but not mention how dangerous it could be. That would only worry her mom and bring out Morgan’s protective instincts.

She didn’t want Morgan getting involved in her life, caring too much. The nightmare drove home the consequences of that possibility.

She brushed out her long, blond hair, applied lipgloss, only because her lips were dry, and headed downstairs.

Voices drifted into the hallway as she headed for the kitchen.

“No, she hasn’t mentioned anything unusually stressful at work. Why?” Mom said.

“Her nightmare made her cry out in her sleep. I’m wondering if something’s troubling her.”

Julie stepped into the kitchen. “Which tea did you pick?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I brewed us a white-pomegranate blend I’ve been wanting to try,” Mom said.

“Sounds great.” Julie didn’t look at Morgan. Couldn’t look at him for fear the image of a dead Morgan would send a shudder down her spine.

“I was asking your mother about your job,” Morgan said.

“I work at Teen Life. It’s great. Helping kids who really need it is so fulfilling,” she said, driving home that kids around Port Whisper had no worries compared to the homeless kids she counseled in the city.

“I’ll bet,” he said.

She didn’t expect that response. She figured he’d argue that kids in Port Whisper needed help, too. A memory of him confessing his home situation filled her with guilt. He’d opened up to her, told her that after his mom left, the revered police chief of Port Whisper had occasionally hit Morgan out of grief or frustration, and somehow Morgan felt as if it was his fault.

Julie pulled out the teacups and set them on the counter.

“What are some of your recent cases?” Morgan pressed.

Julie hesitated as she poured tea. He was fishing, trying to figure out what made her cry out in her sleep.

“Here, I’ll do that,” Mom said. “You sit with Morgan and catch up.”

Mom kissed Julie’s forehead and smiled. Mom had never given up on Morgan and Julie, especially since Morgan had never married. Julie heard he was engaged once, but it didn’t work out. She wondered why.

Julie sat down across from Morgan and forced a smile. He quirked a brow. Ugh. He knew her too well.

“Well,” she started, “we just had a kid placed in a really good foster home. That’s always exciting.”

“What about her parents?”

“His. They’re drug addicts. Gave up their rights to their two sons.”

“How sad,” Mom said.

Julie didn’t talk much about her work with her mom. She didn’t want to upset her. Or scare her. Julie had found herself in threatening situations from time to time, but she was prepared.

Except for what she saw earlier this week.

Mom served the tea and slid a plate of cookies between Julie and Morgan. She joined them at the table.

“Drug addicts,” Morgan said. “You deal with some pretty dangerous people.”

“Says the police chief,” Julie quipped.

“Police chief of a small, sleepy town.”

A small, sleepy town. Her words spoken to him during one of their last fights.

“So, Morgan, how’s your dad?” Mom interrupted the awkward moment.