Sink or Swim

by Jamie Canosa

  Dean spent over a week in the hospital, as well. But that was all at Allie’s bedside. At first the nurse made the mistake of trying to make him leave after visiting hours were over. He’d stepped outside of the room with her and ten minutes later he was back. And the nurse brought him a cot to sleep in. Allie didn’t ask.

  He mostly ignored the cot, anyway, choosing instead to spend his time in an uncomfortable looking chair beside her. It was like he couldn’t stand to stop touching her. He was constantly holding her hand, or touching her face, or smoothing her hair. It was the best damn feeling in the world.

  Allie slept. A lot. The painkillers they had her on were damn good sedatives. But as they started to wean her off so that she would be ready to go home, her sleep became more disturbed.

  The gun went off and Dean was dead. He was lying on the floor, blood pooling all around his body, while her father stood over her laughing as he pulled the trigger again.

  A scream tore from Allie’s throat as she shot up in bed only to be encompassed by two strong arms. Dean was there. He was always there.

  “Shh, darlin’. I’ve got you. It’s all right. I’ve got you, Allie. You’re all right. It’s okay.” He rocked her gently as she allowed his familiar scent to calm her. “You’re safe now. No one’s ever going to hurt you again. I’ve got you.”

  Allie couldn’t be sure if he was talking to her or himself. He’d had a few nightmares of his own since they’d been there. He didn’t think she knew, but she did. So she just let him hold her, pressing soft kisses to her hair. It was what they both needed.

  Once she was able to maintain more than a few minutes of consciousness, Mrs. Ritter brought the girls to visit. She’d been in to see Allie every day and it was plain to say the cat was out of the bag. She knew everything. After all that had happened, Dean couldn’t not tell her. Amy and Sarah had been told enough to quiet their questions, but none of the details. Thank goodness.

  Amy was her normal bubbly self, and Allie was starting to get worn out again just listening to her go on and on about camp, and boys, and the JV basketball team she was going to try out for next year. Sarah sat quietly in the corner, but her gaze never strayed from Allie. She got the distinct impression she was trying to tell her something with that look, but Allie was no mind reader.

  When Amy complained about being hungry and Mrs. Ritter offered to take her children to the cafeteria to get some lunch, Allie seized the opportunity. “Hey, Sarah, would you mind hanging out for just a second?”

  Mrs. Ritter glanced between the two of them and Dean’s brow scrunched, but neither of them questioned her request.

  “Sure, Allie.” Sarah fiddled nervously with the zipper of her sweatshirt as the others cleared out of the room.

  When they were alone, Allie scooted over and patted the bed beside her. “Come here. Talk to me for a minute.”

  Sarah hesitated near the side of the bed, whipping the zipper up and down in short, rapid movements. “I . . . I’m sorry about your dad.”

  “Thanks.” Allie watched patiently as Sarah continued to fidget, waiting for her to get up the nerve to say whatever it was she really had on her mind.

  “Is he . . . He’s really gone?”

  “Yeah. He’s dead.”

  “So . . . he can’t hurt anyone anymore?”

  There it was, the fear that had been lingering behind her recently subdued behavior. Son of a bitch. All of the pieces just fell together like a horrifying jigsaw puzzle in Allie’s mind.

  “Sarah?” Allie prayed that she was wrong, but she already knew she wasn’t. “Did he hurt you?”

  Sarah’s chocolate brown eyes dropped to the floor and Allie’s next breath caught on the lump in her throat. Son. Of. A. Bitch!

  “Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me.”

  Sarah suddenly looked so young standing there worrying her bottom lip between her teeth until the skin around it turned white. Allie took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

  “After you left . . . your dad . . . he was really angry all the time. Always slamming doors and stuff. I was playing outside. Tryouts for the softball team were coming up, so I was practicing my swing. I accidentally hit a ball into your yard and it hit your dad’s car. It was just a tennis ball. It didn’t cause any damage or nothin’, but he was so mad. He came storming out the front door and I ran across the street to apologize, but he . . . he . . .”

  The lump in Allie’s throat had grown to cantaloupe size, but she forced the words out around it. “He hit you.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Sarah nodded anyway. Allie felt it like a blow to the chest.

  “He punched me. Right in my side. It hurt a lot.” Sarah sobbed and Allie tugged her awkwardly up onto the mattress beside her. Hot, wet tears seeped into the shoulder of Allie’s gown where Sarah buried her face. “I tried to be quiet, but I couldn’t help it. It hurt so much. He grabbed my arm . . . hard and . . . and he dragged me around the side of the house.”

  Shit! Fuck! Shit!

  “What did he do, Sarah?”

  “He pushed me up against the wall and he looked so scary. He said . . .” Sarah hiccupped. “He said if I ever told anyone he’d . . . he’d kill me . . . and Amy, and Dean.”

  “Oh, sweetheart . . .”

  “I had big old bruises on my side and arm for days, but I hid them. I didn’t tell anyone what happened. Not anyone.”

  “Did it happen again?”

  “No. I stayed far away from him after that.”

  “Good girl. Smart girl. But, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I’ve been trying to, but every time I worked up the nerve to call you, I couldn’t get the words out and I’d just chicken out.”

  “The phone. All those calls. That was you? Sarah, I’m so sorry.”

  Tears welled, turning Sarah’s eyes glassy before finally spilling over.

  “Come here, sweetheart.”

  Sarah curled up close to Allie’s body, and she held the girl tight.

  “I’m glad he’s dead. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “Not unless I’m a bad person, too, because I’m ready to throw a damn party.”

  Sarah chuckled and sniffled back her tears. “Really?”

  “Hell yeah, really. Sarah, you are not a bad person. He was a bad person. But he’s gone now.”

  “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Allie wasn’t sure who Sarah was reminding of that fact, but either way it was the truth, so she just nodded.

  “I wish you would have told me sooner, but I’m glad you told me now. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah. So have Dean and your mom. I know you trusted me with this and that means a lot to me, but you understand why I have to tell them, right?”

  Allie’s greatest fear was betraying the trust that girl had put in her, but there was no way she could keep this from them. She should have known better. Sarah was a smart girl. She understood. Allie loved that girl to death, but she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t in a position to know what was best for her. Hell, she didn’t even know what was best for herself most of the time.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Dean

  “Allie!”

  She was writhing in pain on the floor. Blood spilled from the opening in her lip and dribbled down her chin staining her porcelain skin a garish red. Her chest shuddered as her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “No! No, Allie! No!”

  Invisible chains held him in place no matter how hard he struggled.

  “Dean.” She gasped his name, her small, pale hand reaching for him. But he couldn’t take it, couldn’t go to her, comfort her, help her. Those damn chains held him back.

  “Allie. I love you, Allie. I love you.”

  A harsh laugh cut through Dean’s declaration and his horrified gaze swung up to the brute of a man standing over the girl he loved. His plaid shirt had come un-tucked from his wash-worn jeans, his hair disheveled with the effort of d
ropping his daughter, a horrible smile creasing his leathery face.

  “Love,” he scoffed. “There is no such thing. Only respect and those who deserve it.” As if he were one of those. That man deserved nothing but a long and painful death.

  Dean fought against his invisible chains. He thrashed and twisted within their confines, but got nowhere. The bastard was still smiling as his hand twitched and suddenly a gun appeared. It was a Smith & Wesson revolver. Dean didn’t know much about guns, but he knew what a Smith & Wesson looked like. He also knew the kind of damage it could do.

  His body went as still as a statue when the gun aimed down at Allie. It felt as though he were trapped within a stone image of himself, screaming and throwing himself against the walls, but unable to do anything but watch as his finger wrapped around the trigger . . . and fired.

  Dean shot straight up in his chair, trapping the scream clawing its way up his throat behind clenched teeth. Allie was sleeping. She was alive and sleeping right in front of him. It was only a dream. Just a dream. Allie was alive.

  He told himself that over and over again as he concentrated on returning his pulse to a normal rhythm. His heart was pounding so friggin’ hard, he was certain it would have set off every damn machine in the room if they’d been attached to him. He could still hear the bullet ejecting from the barrel and burrowing its way into her forehead. Still taste the tang of copper in the air as blood splattered from the wound. Still see her blank eyes staring up at him from the floor.

  Stop. He had to stop. He was making himself crazy. This wasn’t the first nightmare he’d had like that since they’d been at the hospital, either. He’d come so damn close to losing her. So damn close, that the thought still haunted him day and night.

  A terrified scream sent his heart right back into cardiac arrest territory and he shot forward just in time to catch Allie’s flailing body in his arms. She was sitting straight up, eyes wide, and chest heaving. It would seem he wasn’t he only one having nightmares.

  “Shh, darlin’. I’ve got you.” He gathered her close, tucking her head against his chest. “It’s all right. I’ve got you, Allie. You’re all right. It’s okay.” The feel of her warm body in his arms was like a bandage over an open wound. “You’re safe now. No one’s ever going to hurt you again. I’ve got you.”

  He felt his own fears calm alongside hers as they rocked softly and he peppered her hair with kisses. It was over now. They’d been through hell, but they’d made it out the other side. Together.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  His mama came to visit Allie. Every. Single. Day. Sometimes still wearing her waitress uniform and looking dead on her feet. The woman was a saint.

  Not long after Allie woke up, he’d told her everything. There was no way, and no reason, left to hide the truth. They’d both cried. It broke his mama’s heart to hear, he could see it in her eyes. She loved that girl as much as he did. But, it felt like a weight had been lifted from Dean’s chest after spilling all of his secrets. She told him time and again that it wasn’t his fault. He still wasn’t certain he believed her—after all, that’s what mamas are supposed to say—but he was working on it.

  When she brought the girls to visit, it made Dean antsy. They were young. They shouldn’t have to know shit like this existed in the world. But it did and there wasn’t anything he could do to protect them from that knowledge. The idea that there was anything he couldn’t protect his baby sisters from burned like fire.

  He didn’t know exactly what their mama had told them and what she’d left out, but they didn’t look surprised or even uncomfortable when they came into Allie’s room with a small bouquet of red tulips. Allie’s favorite. Damn. How he’d ended up with the four best women in the world in his life, he’d never understand.

  Amy burst past the curtain in all her boisterous glory. She was talking Allie’s ear off before she even got a chance to say hi. Dean half listened to what his sister was saying as his eyes traveled back to the doorway. Sarah was lingering just inside. She’d been like that a while now. Always quiet and lingering in corners. He never thought much of it. He’d been too damn busy to think much of it, but it was strange for her. When had it started? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even remember the last time the two of them had had any sort of substantial conversation. He was slipping in his brotherly duties. If this was about some boy, he’d have skulls to crack when they got out of here.

  “I’m starving, Mama.”

  “Amy Lee Ritter!” Full names always got Dean’s complete attention. He turned back to Allie, who was beginning to look worn out already. Amy could do that to a person. “There are real starving people in this world and your brother and I work hard to make sure you are not among them. I don’t want to hear you saying that again. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Mama. Sorry, Mama.”

  Mama’s indignant huff probably would have gone a lot farther if she’d succeeded in squashing that smile. “Well then, I guess we’d better go and get some lunch in the cafeteria. Allie looks like she could use a break, anyway.”

  Her smile blossomed genuine and warm, and aimed directly at Allie. Christ, he just wanted to squeeze that woman when she smiled at his girl like that. It meant the world to Allie to feel that kind of love—a love she never knew from her own parents.

  Dean hadn’t considered himself included in the cafeteria trip, but when Mama gripped his shirt sleeve and tugged, he couldn’t deny her.

  “Hey, Sarah, would you mind hanging out for just a second?” Allie’s quiet voice turned him back at the door.

  She was asking Sarah to stay? Surely, if something was wrong, she’d ask him. She probably just wanted a chance to talk with her and with Sarah’s newly quiet personality, she may only get that if they were alone. Who knew, maybe if this was about a boy, Allie would figure it out so Dean would know whose skull to crack later on.

  “Sure, Allie.”

  Dean gave Sarah a quick wink and a nudge on his way out of the room. Amy was already half-way to the elevator where she’d stopped to talk to some old man in a wheelchair. That girl could hold a conversation with a wall. Dean sighed. He was going to have a migraine before lunch was over, he could already see it.

  He wasn’t wrong. Fifteen minutes into their tuna sandwiches, Dean’s head was throbbing as he sucked back the last of his pop. Amy had bounced from talking about Allie, to camp, to whatever the hell topic she was on now. Dean had already tuned her out. Mama just smiled and nodded the entire time and he wondered how she did it. His kids had better all be boys.

  When they’d finished eating and Sarah still hadn’t joined them, Dean started to worry. If there were something wrong with Allie, Sarah would have called him. Someone would have come to get him. Still, he twitched with the need to get back upstairs and see that she was all right for himself.

  His foot tapped anxiously the entire trip up to the fifth floor in the crowded elevator, and the moment the doors slid open, he shoved his way out into the hall. Anxiety propelled him toward the room ahead of his mother and sister. The moment he stepped inside, he knew something was wrong. Both girls were huddled together on the bed, where Allie was holding Sarah. And they both had tears in their eyes.

  “No.” He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken out loud until the girls looked up at him. There was so much pain in Allie’s eyes that it broke his heart.

  Amy’s voice drew his attention back to the hallway, where he stepped out just in time to stop her from entering the room. “Wait, Amy.”

  “What? What’s wrong, Dean?”

  “Nothing. I just . . . Could you . . .” He wracked his brain for some excuse to keep her busy, but came up short. He didn’t want to lie anymore. “Listen, Am, can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “I need to talk to Sarah for a minute. Would you mind keeping yourself busy in the waiting room for just a little while?”

  She looked like she had a million and one questions poised on the tip of her tongue, and he was sure
she did, but she kept them all locked up. “Sure, bro.”

  “Thanks, Amy.” He bent over to place a quick kiss to the top of his sister’s head before she scurried back off down the hall toward the waiting area.

  “What was that all about?” Mama stood beside him, concern etched into all of her features. Had those wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and the gray streaks in her hair always been there, or was all of this taking its toll on her, too?

  “I don’t know, yet. Nothing, I hope.” He did hope. And wish. And pray. They’d all already been through more than enough. But somehow, he knew all the hoping in the world wasn’t going to get him past whatever was going on in that room.

  By the time he re-entered Allie’s room with his mama, Sarah had climbed off the bed and was standing beside Allie. They’re hands were clasped tightly together and Sarah’s were shaking. Whatever this was, it was bad.

  “What happened?” Dean didn’t even recognize his own voice.

  Allie squeezed Sarah’s hand and took a deep breath. “There’s something we have to tell you.”

  Definitely bad.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Dean’s hands shook with barely concealed rage as his sister bawled out the details of what Allie’s father had done to her. That son of a bitch. That goddamned son of a bitch had hurt not one, but two people he loved. His baby sister. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  His fists clenched and unclenched with the need to hit something, but this was a hospital, he couldn’t just go around hitting shit. Dean’s breath was labored with the force he was using to keep himself under control. He felt like a bomb ready to go off and he was holding the explosion back with sheer will power.

  Allie’s eyes stayed glued to him the entire time. He could feel them, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. She’d see it there, beneath the surface. Everything he was trying to contain. She was still hurting, still not well. He couldn’t unleash this shit on her.

  When Sarah’s sobs quieted to sporadic hiccups, his mama ushered her toward the door. “I’m going to take the girls home, now. It’s been a long day for all of us. I’ll take her to the station tomorrow to file a report.”