Evergreens and Angels by Mary Manners

afforded a month’s leave to help care for Gran but she’d eventually have to return. She was needed there.
    She was needed here, as well. Gran’s accident brought that reality front and center. Her grandparents were aging, and, with her father’s constant travels, Brynn’s relationship with him was precarious at best. Gran and Gramps were all she had; conversely, Brynn knew she was the same for them.
    A sleek, extended-cab black truck turned the corner. Sunlight shimmered along the polished chrome.
    Dillon.
    He headed slowly up the plowed street toward the house, pausing to turn into the drive. When he stepped from the driver’s seat a few moments later, Brynn drew a deep breath. He seemed taller, leaner than she remembered. Dark hair curled around the nape of his neck while his gaze sought her through the window. Locking on, he studied her for a moment, bringing back memories of that night so long ago when he’d looked at her with the same expression, as if she was a code he struggled to decipher.
    Just as quickly, the puzzled look morphed into a brilliant smile. He offered a slight wave and then climbed the stairs two-at-a-time. She moved to open the door and let him in.
    “Hi again,” He murmured as his hand, chilled from the cold, brushed hers. His breath was warm on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
    “You, too.” She squeezed his fingers. “Come in out of the cold for a moment.”
    Dillon stomped his boots on the welcome mat and then crossed the threshold. “Snow’s moved out; streets are fairly clear. Should be business as usual by tomorrow morning. In the meantime…”
    “You forgot your jacket yesterday.”
    “I know.” He glanced at it before his gaze traveled to the mistletoe, still filled with berries. His voice, low and soothing, held a hint of hesitation. “About yesterday…I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”
    “Not at all.” Brynn’s cheeks heated as a smile tickled her lips. “I was hoping for an encore…but we should talk first.”
     
    ****
     
    We should talk first…four of the most terrifying words in the English language when they were strung together—by a woman—following a kiss.
    Good grief.
    Feeling as if he treaded along a magician’s bed of nails, Dillon carried a wicker basket generously stocked with everything from magazines to candy bars as he and Brynn wound their way through a revolving door and into the Children’s Hospital lobby. The place was a pleasant contradiction to the adult medical center just down the street, which he remembered as somber and smelling of musty age and disinfectant. The thought brought back a wave of memories filled with his dad’s last days. Dad had passed away in that very building, in a quiet, dusky room tucked into one corner of the sixth floor.
    Dillon promised not to dwell on the loss or the string of dark days that had followed. Instead, he focused on colorful bulletin boards and welcoming posters that lined the length of the wall to the elevators.
    “Tell me again how you know Janie and her mother,” Dillon murmured, doing his best to chase away the painful memories of cancer that had ravaged his dad. He’d been a week shy of seventeen when the end finally arrived and returning to a place so close to the scene brought the loss front and center. “I mean, how did you get to the point of visiting them like this?”
    “Well, you know Janie was in the car that was involved in the wreck with Gran and Gramps.” Brynn pressed a button on the wall indicating their need for an elevator headed up. “And I spent day and night here watching over Gran and keeping Gramps company. During that time, I got in the habit of stopping in to see Janie, as well. Gramps was fretting over everything, and it made him feel better to know someone was checking up on her. As the days progressed, I spent a little more time and then more, still. While we sat together, Sarah and I got to talking, and I just feel…I don’t know…connected,