Book Details

Onyx
Stroke of Midnight anthology, Onyx, October 2004, ISBN: 0-451-41164-1

Chapter One

Dylan North walked down the streets of Acton, savoring the familiar sights. Old man Roscoe still sat outside the diner, refusing to give up his spot on the bench for people who were waiting to be seated. In his hometown, the cars ran at a slow pace, the people even slower. As a kid, he couldn't wait to get the hell out and never look back. As an adult, he appreciated everything he'd once hated because this place possessed the peace and tranquility that was nowhere to be found in L.A.

As he strode down the street, destination in mind, one more important thought struck him, cementing his reason for coming back now. Everywhere he went reminded him of Holly Evans.

Dr. Holly Evans, he thought, shaking his head. Damn, but he was proud of her. She may not know his feelings, but by the time his short trip home was over, she'd know that and a whole lot more. But first he needed to find firm footing. To see where he stood with Holly now. They hadn't spoken in over ten years and Dylan understood that the girl he left behind might want nothing to do with him. He also realized that his own feelings might have changed too. He doubted it, but he needed to keep an open mind.

He understood these things deep in his gut, in a way he couldn't have managed in his youth—and not just because his manager, his publicist and his personal assistant all told him he was an ass to turn his back on the beautiful actresses at his beck and call. Specifically Melanie Masterson, his latest and longest lasting relationship. Melanie desperately wanted a reconciliation, but only, he thought, because being on his arm benefitted her career. But he was finished hanging onto Melanie or any other woman in a futile search for the normalcy he'd only experienced once before. With Holly.

He wasn't a man prone to believing in omens but a month ago he'd dreamed of Holly, which wasn't unusual since he dreamed of her often. But this time had been more vivid. In the dream, it was Christmas Eve and they sat in his house opening gifts they'd bought for each other with their hard earned money. Feeling warmer and more content than he could ever remember, he'd drowsily reached for Holly only to find Melanie in bed beside him.

The shock to his system had been greater than if he'd crawled into a cold bed all alone. It was a wake up call he'd taken seriously.

So now he entered the office which had once belonged to Holly's father and glanced around, noting that although much was the same, such as the old doctor's diplomas and the black and white photos, Holly had added her own touches too. Aside from the Christmas tree in one corner, tinsel draping the walls and decals on the windows, there were more permanent fixes. She'd painted the place a cheery yellow color, a corner of the waiting room held a large toy box and a shelf filled with children's books, and an array of magazines lay on the center table.

Doc Evans had a great bedside manner but he'd never updated the decor. His daughter had. Dylan wondered if the old man had lived to see it. Today Dylan had learned that the dad Holly adored had passed away last year and her mom had remarried and moved to Florida. Dylan hadn't been here to cushion either loss. Had anyone, he wondered. The thought caused a cramping in his gut.

How many other major events had he missed in her life? And was it too late to even approach her now? So many questions.

"Can I help you?" a red haired woman he didn't recognize asked, interrupting his thoughts as she grabbed her coat from the hooks in the hall.

"I'm looking for Holly—I mean Dr. Evans."

Without looking up, the other woman shrugged her coat over her shoulders. "Dr. Evans is in the back but we've seen our last patient for the day unless it's an emergency. Is it an emergency?" As she spoke, she finally glanced into his face for the first time. "You're him! I mean you're Dylan North. The actor. Oh my God!"