by Jamie Canosa
When her eyes slipped closed and she stopped responding, Dean damn near died on the spot.
She said she loved him. He’d loved that girl his entire fucking life, and she’d loved him, too. He’d known it all along. But now she knew it. She’d finally admitted it to herself. To him. He knew what that meant. He had her. She was his. Finally. Forever. He couldn’t lose her now.
The recoil of the gun going off in his hand had thrown him backward just enough that her father’s dead weight, still clinging to him, had dragged him down to the floor. He must have hit his head pretty hard because he’d definitely blacked out for a moment or two. Either that, or it was from shock. He’d come around to the sound of Allie calling his name. She was gasping, and pleading, and he needed to get to her. She looked so damn frightened lying there, fighting for each breath that it tore at his soul.
The ambulance took an eternity to arrive. At least that’s how it felt as he sat there holding her in his arms, desperately waiting for someone to come and help her. Now, they were trying to and he was just getting in the way. But he couldn’t let go. Couldn’t let her think he’d left her, even for a moment. She’d fight. She was a strong girl. His strong girl. She’d fight for him. He knew it.
“Hang on, Allie. I’m right here. Please, darlin’. I’m right here.”
They screeched to a stop in the ambulance bay just outside of the Emergency Room. She still hadn’t opened her eyes when they pulled her from the back of the ambulance and started wheeling her inside. Dean kept a firm grip on her hand the entire way.
“I’m right here, darlin’. Just hang on. You’re gonna be all right.”
It took two nurses, three orderlies, and the threat of a needle full of valium to finally pry him away from her. He watched through blurry vision as they pushed her unconscious body through a set of swinging doors and out of sight.
He couldn’t lose her. That couldn’t be the last time he ever spoke to her. He hadn’t even said he loved her back. He’d said it before, but not now. Not since she’d said it. He needed to say it to her. He needed her to know it. He needed her.
Dean collapsed into a hard plastic chair and buried his face in his hands just as two warm arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Mama.
“Sweetheart. I saw the ambulance leave. What happened? Are you all right?” She was staring wide-eyed at the blood stains covering most of his shirt.
“I’m fine. It’s not me. It’s not mine.”
“Who’s is it?”
“Allie’s father’s.”
“Jim? Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“What? Sweetheart, what happened?”
“She’s hurt, Mama. She’s hurt bad and they won’t let me see her. I have to see her. I have to tell her I love her. I love her, Mama.”
“I know you do, sweetie. I know you do.”
Deep down he knew he’d have to do a better job of explaining all of this to her eventually, but right then she didn’t push. She just held him tight like he needed her to. Like a parent should. Christ, he was so damn lucky. But he needed that luck to hold out just a little longer. He loved this woman sitting beside him and he loved his sisters, but he couldn’t live without Allie.
Dean was so wrapped up in thinking about what he could have, should have, and didn’t do—all that useless shit people think about in situations like that—he didn’t even notice the two uniformed officers entering the waiting room, until a short brunette nurse pointed toward him. Mama stiffened at the same moment as Dean’s head came up and his gaze locked with the older of the two officers. A short man—five-seven, maybe five-eight—with graying hair around his temples, though he seemed to keep in shape.
As they drew closer, Mama extracted herself from his side, to step between them.
“Dean Ritter?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you want with him?” Mama folded her arms across her chested and stared up at the two men. For such a small woman, she could sure intimidate with the best of em’.
“We have a few questions that need to be answered, ma’am. If he’ll just come with us—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Dean remained anchored to his seat. If they thought he was taking one step outside that building without Allie, they were sorely mistaken.
“Son, there are some things we need to discuss.” The older officer lifted one bushy brow as Dean silently fumed.
He knew he had things to account for—serious things—but Jim Porter was already dead. What did it matter if he accounted for them right that second?
“I’m not your son, and I’m not going anywhere until I know Allie’s all right.”
“Listen.” The officer leaned in closer, glancing over his shoulder at his partner. The younger man—late twenties with sandy blonde hair and a good foot of height on his partner—took his cue and struck up a conversation with Mama. Whatever he had to say was for Dean’s ears alone. “I’ve got a dead body in the morgue, a badly beaten girl in the hospital, and witnesses, as well as forensic evidence,” his gaze dropped briefly to Dean’s bloodstained shirt, “that puts you at the scene. You need to answer some questions. You can either come willingly, or I can take you under arrest. Let’s make this easier on everyone . . . including your mother.”
Dean looked back over at his mama. She still wore her waitress uniform, not even having had the time to change out of it after getting home from working a double shift before starting supper for him and the girls. She looked exhausted and her hands shook slightly as she spoke animatedly with the younger officer. He was right, the last thing Mama needed was to watch him hauled off in cuffs.
“Okay.”
Mama stopped her verbal barrage as the officer helped Dean from his seat. “Where are you going?”
“It’s okay. I just need to talk to them about a few things.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
She reached for her purse on the floor near her seat, but Dean gripped her wrist. “No. Stay here. Please.”
“Dean . . . I’m your mother. You need me right now. I’m not—”
“He’s legally an adult, ma’am. There’s nothing you can do for—” Mama shot the young officer her best death glare—one Dean had been wise enough to only be on the receiving end a few times in his life—that cut him off cold.
“Mama, please. I know how lucky I am to have you. You have no idea how grateful I am for that. That you want to help me. But Allie has no one. She needs you more than I do right now.” Leaving Allie was painful enough, but the thought of leaving her all alone was unbearable. “Mama, please. Stay with her.”
The officers stood back watching their exchange until his mama finally caved. She stood still as a statue as Dean was escorted to the exit, before dropping into a seat as he passed through the sliding doors.
Dean climbed into the back of a patrol car and watched as the hospital disappeared behind them. He’d make this up to her. To both of them. But, first he had other things to deal with.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Dean
Hours. It was hours of pure, unadulterated torture.
Dean was taken to a small windowless room with nothing more than a table and two chairs. He gave his statement. Told them everything he knew, everything that happened so many times he thought his fucking head would explode, wrote it all down, and signed it.
That was hours ago and he was verging on complete mental breakdown. He’d answered all of their damn questions, now he needed some answers of his own. Left with nothing but his thoughts, visions of the night kept plaguing him. The tears in Allie’s eyes as her father wailed on her, the pained smile she wore when she told him she loved him, the sounds of her strangled breaths as she struggled to survive, her small, battered, bloody body lying limp on that gurney as they took her away from him.
If something had happened to her, would they have even bothered to tell him? The not knowing was going to kill him surer than any damn bullet. His fist slammed do
wn on the metal table top and he planted his head beside it.
His heart ached, his head pounded, and his entire body felt like it’d been through the wringer . . . twice. Dean itched at the scratchy fabric of the shirt he’d been given to wear when they’d collected his for evidence. Could nothing be comfortable?
When the door swung open on a long, ear-splitting creak, Dean straightened up and took a deep breath. Finally.
“What’s going on?”
“Dean, I’m Officer Bradley.” It was the same officer from the hospital—the older one—only this time he was alone. “I’d like to ask you a few more questions, but before we can begin, I need to make sure you understand your rights.”
“I understand them. What do I have to do to get out of here?”
“You have to answer some questions.” Officer Bradley slid a sheet of paper and a pen in front of Dean.
“Then, ask!” He knew damn well getting worked up wouldn’t help his case, and he’d been working like hell to keep his temper in check, but it was starting to break under the stress. “Please.”
He glanced over the paper on the table in front of him. It was just another reminder of his rights. Sick to death of all the procedural shift, Dean scooped up the pen and scrawled his name, verifying that he understood them all.
Bradley’s eyes shifted from the pen back to Dean. “You’re a lefty.”
What the hell did that have to do with anything? “Always have been.”
“That’s good.”
“Why the fuck is that good? What the hell is going on? Please, I need to get back to the hospital. If anything happens to Allie . . .” He couldn’t even bring himself to finish the thought.
“It’s good because I spoke to Allie’s doctor.”
“You did? When? Is she okay? Is she awake?”
“There hasn’t been much of a change in her condition. She’s in surgery now and he tells me it could still be several hours before they have any updates for us.”
“Surgery?” Dean’s heart tripped over itself. He was no medical doctor, but surgery was never a good thing.
“That’s all I know for now. That, and the fact that he verified her injuries more than likely were caused by a right handed attacker.”
“Her father is right handed.”
“Yes. He is. I’m inclined to believe you, Dean.”
For a long moment, Dean only stared at the man across the table. He was certain he’d heard him wrong. People say the truth will set you free, but Dean fully believed that to be total bullshit. He was the poor kid in town, found at the scene of a murder, covered in a dead man’s blood, after pulling the trigger. Self-defense or not, part of him had already accepted the fact that they were going to lock him away for a long time. As long as Allie was all right, he’d convinced himself he could live with that.
“Why?”
“For several reasons, not the least of which is that I saw you at the hospital. You can’t fake that kind of grief. And I heard what you said to your mother. It’s been my experience that cold blooded murderers don’t often have such respect. You remind me of my son. He’s a good man. Of course, none of that will help you in a court of law. Fortunately, there’s also evidence to back up your story. I’ve spoken with the team in forensics and they verified two different sets of fingerprints on the gun—yours and Jim Porter’s. They’re all over the weapon, including the trigger. And the blood splatter on your shirt indicated very close range, which also fits with your version of events. Jim Porter also has a bit of a reputation in the local bar scene as being an angry drunk. And being that way pretty often, including last night.” Last night . . . it was already after midnight. No wonder his body felt ready to shut down around him.
“So, what happens now?”
“What happens now is, I let you go.”
“Really?”
“But don’t go far. Until Miss Porter gives her statement, you’ll remain a person of interest in this case. Don’t make any plans to leave town.”
“Until Allie’s sent home, you know where I’ll be.”
Without wasting another moment, Dean was up and out of the room. Officer Bradley walked him to the front door of the station where a cab was already waiting.
He gave the driver the name of the hospital and sat back, wringing his hands together in his lap. When they pulled up to the emergency entrance, Dean had a moment of panic as he searched his pockets for any kind of cash.
“It’s been taken care of,” the cabbie informed him and Dean slipped out with a grateful nod.
Mama was still sitting right where he’d left her, only now she had a cup of coffee in her hands.
“Mama.”
She gasped and threw her arms around his neck as he lowered into the seat beside her. “Oh, sweetie! I’ve been so worried. What happened? You were gone so long and I—”
“They let me go. It’s okay, Mama. They believe me. They believe it was self-defense. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
“Self-defense . . .?”
He still needed to tell her the whole story, but she didn’t look like she was ready to hear it just then.
The pale colors of dawn were starting to light the sky outside the large bay windows when a man in a long white lab coat that looked too pristine to have just walked out of an emergency room came over to them and asked if they were Allie’s family.
His mama answered before he even got the chance to open his mouth. “Of course we are. How is she?”
“She took quite a beating.”
His mama blanched and his stomach turned over as memories of that beating played back in his mind. The son of a bitch had made him watch and he didn’t think he’d ever get those images out of his head.
“She has a broken rib that punctured her lung. It collapsed. We were able to re-inflate it, but she was oxygen deprived for some time.”
“What does that mean?” Dean’s voice sounded hollow.
“It means she’s stable, but now all we can do is wait and see. She’s still unconscious.”
“When will she wake up?” Dean had never wanted to see anything more in his life than her beautiful eyes.
“At this point, that’s anyone’s guess.”
“But she will wake up.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. She would wake up. There wasn’t any other option.
The doctor sighed. “If you’d like, you can sit with her for a while, but only one visitor at a time.”
“You go, honey. Be with her when she wakes up.” His mama gave him a little push forward and he loved her even more.
‘When she wakes up.’ There wasn’t another option for her, either. She loved Allie almost as much as he did.
Dean followed the immaculate fucking lab coat down a bright-ass hallway to a room parted down the middle with a puke green curtain. The first bed was empty, which he was relieved to see. But the second?
Allie looked so damn tiny lying in that bed.
His breath caught as he tried to control the emotions rolling through him. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t because she was going to be all right. She was going to wake up, and bitch about nasty hospital food, and everything was going to be just fine.
He reached for her hand as he settled into the chair beside her bed. Just the feel of it lying limp in his grasp was enough to make him have to bite back the pain.
“Allie, I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s gonna be all right. I just need you to do something for me, darlin’, okay? I need you to open your eyes.”
Nothing. No response.
“Baby? You hear me? You have to open your eyes now. It’s time to wake up.”
Still nothing.
“Allie, listen to me. You have to open your eyes. Now. It’s time to wake up. Allie, wake up.” He adopted that no-nonsense tone she almost always obeyed.
She didn’t this time. She didn’t even stir and it broke him just a little bit more. He wouldn’t survive this. Not losing her. Not like this. His family
needed him and he wouldn’t let them down. He’d go on, do what he needed to do, but he’d never live again. Not without her. Not without his Allie.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, breathing in her welcome scent, which was nearly overpowered by the stench of the hospital.
“I can’t lose you, darlin’. Don’t you dare leave me.” He kissed her hand again before lying it back on the bed. “I love you.”
Total exhaustion from both the physical and emotional toll of the day caught up with him in that moment. He laid his head on the bed beside her hand still grasped in his own as the tears came hot and fast.
~~~~~~~~~~
He must have cried himself to sleep—something he’d never done before in his life—because when he woke again his eyes were puffy and sore. Dean sat up and stretched his neck trying to work out some of the kinks. That’s when he felt it.
A twitch in his hand. A slight tightening as Allie’s fingers curled around his.
“Allie? Baby?” He leaned over her so that his face was only inches from hers. He wanted to see her eyes the instant they opened. “Allie, look at me. Open your eyes, darlin’.”
Her eyelids fluttered once and then twice before they finally peeled back revealing the two most stunning blue eyes he’d ever seen in all his life.
“Dean?” Her voice was hoarse and raw, but it was still the most beautiful sound in the world.
“I’m right here, darlin’. I’m right here.” And he was the luckiest bastard on Earth.
Chapter Thirty
Allie
The hospital stay was long and tedious. She’d lost consciousness somewhere between the house and the hospital, but when she woke again Dean was still there. Right beside her, like she knew he would be. She had a bruised spinal column along with a broken rib, which had punctured a lung. They shoved a damn tube in her chest and kept her there for over a week.
Her father’s body was taken away and disposed of while she was recovering. Allie assumed Dean probably had something to do with that, but she couldn’t have cared less. Let him rot in hell.