The blaring alarm jolted me awake. Groaning, I rolled over and slapped it off before flopping back onto the mattress. The other side of the bed was cold - no surprise there. Olivia was already out on her 2-mile morning run, like clockwork.
I’m Trevor Whitaker, 23, and a cop in McMinnville, Oregon. Born and raised here, I never thought I’d end up patrolling the same streets where I rode my bike as a kid. Life has a way of circling back on you, though. My parents still live in the house I grew up in, and my brother Jake has his own place across town with his girlfriend, Emma. Funny enough, Emma’s one of my childhood friends, and now she’s pregnant with Jake’s kid.
Another one of those friends, Ethan, moved to Portland with his girlfriend. We all grew up together, but I guess I’m the one who stayed behind. Maybe it’s because McMinnville has this gravitational pull - quiet streets, familiar faces, and just enough small-town charm to make you think you belong.
Olivia, though, is another story. You already know a little about her, but here’s the full picture. We’ve lived together for three years and been dating for a year and a half. Yeah, it sounds backward - roommates first, then a couple. Let me explain.
It was late one evening when we met. The sun was low, spilling golden light across the fields as my training officer and I drove the backroads. That’s when we spotted her kneeling by the roadside. A man had been in a bad car accident, and Olivia was performing CPR. She wasn’t a nurse or an EMT, just someone who’d come across the wreck and couldn’t look away.
She did everything she could, but his injuries were too severe.
Afterward, I couldn’t get her out of my head - the way she’d stayed so calm, focused. I found myself talking to her at the scene, and we exchanged numbers. It started simple: quick chats, shared frustrations about the world, and an undeniable spark of something deeper.
Not long after, she needed a place to stay, and I had a spare room. At first, we were just two people helping each other through life’s rough patches - she was recovering from a breakup, and I was navigating the rocky first months of being a cop. Late-night conversations turned into movie marathons. Slowly, almost without realizing it, things shifted.
One night, after a little too much wine, we crossed the line between friends and something more. It wasn’t awkward - it felt natural, like the next step in a story we’d already been writing. What started as casual intimacy grew into something real.
Stretching, I stepped onto the cold hardwood floor, the chill jolting me fully awake. My eyes caught the framed photo on the nightstand - a snapshot of Olivia and me at Rose City Comic Con.
I wasn’t doing anything special that day, just jeans and a graphic tee, but Olivia? She stole the show. Her costume was stunning: vivid orange skin, fiery red hair that shimmered like molten copper, and feline ears perched on her head that seemed almost too real. She played it coy when I asked her about them, laughing it off with her usual mischief.
But it wasn’t just the ears. Her eyes had been mesmerizing - bigger than normal, shimmering with shades of green and gold that seemed to shift in the light. Everything about her that day - from the metallic, second-skin outfit to the intricate details of her bracelets - drew attention. She wasn’t just wearing a costume; she embodied it, moving through the crowds like she belonged in another world.
Even now, the memory lingered, sharp and vivid. Back then, it felt like just another colorful, fun day. But this morning, something about it gnawed at me.
Her costume - it had been too perfect. Too seamless. Ridiculous, I told myself. Just Olivia being Olivia - larger-than-life, unpredictable, always a step ahead.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I shuffled out of the bedroom, the chill of the hardwood floor pulling me further into wakefulness. The house was quiet except for the faint hiss of something cooking. Stretching, I let my groggy limbs guide me down the hallway.
The smell of eggs and toast greeted me before I even reached the kitchen, cutting through the haze of sleep. I leaned against the doorway, blinking at the soft morning light streaming through the window. Olivia stood at the stove, moving with practiced ease, humming softly to herself. With a flick of her wrist, she flipped an egg onto a plate. The motion was effortless, as natural as her warm smile.
“Hey, look who finally decided to wake up,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Her grin was warm, like the day was already perfect, and I just needed to catch up.
I grunted, running a hand through my hair. “Morning,” I mumbled, my voice still thick with sleep.
She chuckled, her teasing tone cutting through my morning fog. “Coffee’s on the counter. You look like you need it. Want me to grab you a straw?”
“Funny,” I muttered, heading for the mug she’d set out for me. “How are you always this chipper? Is it some secret superpower or just an unhealthy amount of caffeine?”
“Somebody has to keep us on track,” she quipped, flipping another egg with infuriating grace. “Otherwise, you’d still be asleep at noon, and I’d have to roll you out of bed.”
I raised my mug in mock salute. “Tireless dedication to my survival. That’s why you’re the best.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a smirk.
I slipped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Her familiar floral scent surrounded me, calming and grounding me like it always did. The moment my hands touched her, the last of the morning’s haze disappeared. Olivia had this way of making the world feel steady, even when I didn’t know what was weighing on her shoulders.
As she turned slightly toward me, I caught the faintest tension in her posture. She carried so much without ever showing it. It was something I admired, even if I didn’t always know what it was she kept hidden.
“Just be careful out there, alright?” she said softly, her voice dipping into a quiet worry.
That shift in her tone tugged at me. “Always,” I promised, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
We’d just finished eating when a knock at the door interrupted us. Olivia wiped her hands on a towel, sighing theatrically as she turned to me.
“Time to face the firing squad,” she said with mock cheer.
I smirked. “It’s a spa day, not an ambush.”
She raised a brow, her smirk playful. “Says the guy who doesn’t have to field a dozen questions about wedding dates and baby names.”
Before I could muster a reply, the doorbell rang. I opened it, and my mom swept into the room with her signature energy, filling the space as if she owned it.
“Morning, sweetheart!” she said, pulling me into a quick hug before turning her full attention to Olivia. “And there’s my favorite almost-daughter-in-law!”
Olivia offered a polite smile. “Morning, Mrs. Whitaker.”
Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, enough with the ‘Mrs. Whitaker’ thing. Just call me Mom, remember?” She looped an arm through Olivia’s, her grin widening. “But if Trevor has something planned, a little heads-up wouldn’t hurt - for planning purposes, of course.”
Trailing behind was Maya, her rounded belly leading the way as she waddled in. She waved briefly before grinning at Olivia. “Hey, Liv! Ready to be pampered?”
Olivia leaned back against the counter with an exaggerated groan. “I guess. After the week I’ve had, I’ll take it - even if it comes with a side of third-degree questioning.”
“Questioning?” Mom asked, feigning innocence as her grin turned sly. “Who, me? Never! But you know, Olivia, a little hint wouldn’t hurt - like when Trevor might pop the question.”
Maya laughed as she sank onto the couch, resting a hand on her belly. “Oh, come on, Liv. It’s not so bad. Besides, my little guy loves it when we talk mushy stuff. He kicks like crazy whenever I mention Jake and me.”
Olivia sighed, shaking her head but smiling faintly. “Fine. I’ll endure it - for the baby’s sake.” She turned to me, arching a brow. “Trevor, you owe me a spa day without the interrogation next time. A foot rub at minimum.”
I leaned in, kissing her forehead and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Deal. You’re a saint.”
Mom waved me off with an easy smile. “Go on, Trevor. We’ll take good care of Olivia.”
Maya smirked, her tone teasing. “Yeah, Trev. Go play hero or whatever it is you do. Liv deserves this.”
I grabbed my keys from the counter, pausing as I passed Olivia. “Fine, just don’t scare her off, okay?”
She nudged me lightly, her lips curling into a soft smile. “I’ll survive. Barely. Just make sure you come back in one piece - your nephew’s going to need the cool uncle.”
As I stepped out into the cool morning air, Mom’s voice followed me. “Love you, Trevor! Be safe!”
I glanced back with a quick nod. “Love you too, Mom.”
Closing the door behind me, I paused for a moment, letting the warmth of the scene settle in my chest. Family, friends - they were everything. But as I walked to my car, that flicker of tension I’d caught in Olivia’s eyes earlier nagged at me.
She always carried more than she let on, her burdens kept quiet beneath that steady smile. But today, it felt heavier - like she was fighting a battle I didn’t even know existed.
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