Chapter Thirteen
D ottie pushed the sweat-soaked hair from Allie’s face. She was back from the edge of oblivion thanks to Cuppie, who must’ve sensed something because she beat her nose against the door until Sam ran over to see why. It was Sam who picked the lock to Allie’s bedroom door and Dottie who ran in to tend to what must’ve looked like a corpse in the middle of the bed. Allie had gone into a cold sweat, and she knew from previous experiences that her lips lost color and her eyes went glassy. She couldn’t understand the first few things Dottie said—they sounded like they were softly echoing in a cave—but she felt her touch and was grateful. As she pulled out of the attack, words began to make sense again, and she realized that Sam was holding on to her wrist, taking her pulse.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It’s just a panic attack.”
“Just?” he said, sitting on the bed beside her. “How often do you get them?”
“Not often.”
“Too much of the unseen is getting in.” Dottie seemed concerned. “Some of it’s okay; you grow when you’re uncomfortable. But this is too much.”
“Grow?” Allie squeaked. “I should be really tall by now.” She could joke because it was over, even though she still felt weak and heavy.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked.
“I’m sure.” With some help from Dottie, she was able to sit up. There, in her doorway, were Jessa and Tulip, both looking stricken. “Hey,” Allie said. “Sorry to scare you. I promise I’m fine.”
“Uncle Fred went to get y’all more wood from Mama’s house,” Tulip said. “It’s too cold in here. Someone could get sick.”
“Should we stay or let y’all be?” Jessa asked. “We’ve got just about everything anyone could want back at the house if y’all need anything. Anything at all.”
“What time is it?” Allie asked Sam.
“Just a hair past six,” Dottie answered.
“A little rest sounds good.”
Dottie clapped her hands together. “Girls, make Allie a bed on the couch, and when Fred gets back we’ll stoke the fire. We won’t leave until we get y’all situated.”
“You can use the blankets from my bed,” Sam said. He must’ve noticed Allie’s lone sheet. “You got a favorite pillow?” he asked her.
Just as she nodded and pointed to the squishy one behind her head, they heard the front door open. It sounded like Fred back with firewood.
Sam leaned toward Allie. “Put your arms around my neck,” he said, sliding his good arm underneath her legs. He lifted her easily. “You got the pillow, Dot?”
“Got it.”
By the time they got to the couch, Sam’s blankets were neatly spread out. He placed her on top of them and folded them over her as Dottie placed the pillow behind her head. Cuppie jumped onto the couch and snuggled next to Allie before anyone could stop her. Sam said her name in a stern tone, but Allie stopped him. She wanted the dog there.
“Your soup’s cold,” Jessa said, “but I put it in a mug to make it easy to drink.”
“Thank you,” Allie said, meaning it. “All of you. Thank you so much.”
Fred stopped stacking firewood long enough to turn and say, “This is what neighbors do.”
“Yeah, we piss you off and then we make it up to you.” Dottie laughed.
Fred made a few more trips for extra firewood, then, as promised, the whole crew disappeared. They left behind the snapping sparkle of a warm fire, sweet chocolatey cookies, and silence. Sam lifted Allie’s legs and sat on the couch beneath them. “What a day,” he said.
“Oh my God. You’re not kidding.”
“You can call me Sam.”
It wasn’t that funny. It was actually kind of obnoxious, but something about Sam’s unexpected little joke tickled Allie. It started in her belly, then quickly turned into a full-fledged laughing fit. Once he joined in, she couldn’t stop. Cuppie looked at them like they’d lost their minds.
“My stomach muscles hurt,” she said, finally beginning to calm. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Right back at you. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“Well, if we’re keeping score, you scared me first with your whole nightmare thing.” She saw him deflate with her words, but it still felt right to bring it up. “I’m panicking over invisible things and you’re shooting at them.” She hadn’t realized the similarities until the words came out of her mouth.
He nodded as he took it in. “What a pair we make.”
“A pair of messes.”
“No.” His eyes stayed firmly on hers as he shook his head. “We don’t have to be perfectly healed in order to be accepted and cared for. We can still be works in progress.”
She took some time to think about what he’d just said. “That is healing, isn’t it? Letting what might be the worst version of yourself be loved? We don’t have to be perfect. We feel things. And that’s good.”
“And we live in a world where people shoot each other and freeze in the middle of winter storms and get lost on wild islands while looking for sharks’ teeth.”
“And we also live in a world where neighbors bring cookies and build fires and make beds on a couch,” she said.
“And dogs sense things we can’t and people get drunk, and”—his eyes twinkled over his sly smile—“and roommates kiss.”
Allie grabbed the pillow from behind her head and covered her face. “That’s a secret.”
“Don’t you dare regret it,” he said, teasing in his voice. “You like me, you know you do.”
She shook her head underneath the pillow, which smothered her words. “No, I don’t.”
“What’s that you’re saying? I can’t hear you. You think I’m handsome?”
She shook her head vigorously.
“Oh, I get it. You’re in love with me.”
She laughed underneath the pillow.
He chuckled. “I might be willing to kiss you again. I mean, if you’re gonna force me.”
She kicked her legs, and he held them down, so she pulled off the pillow and whacked him on the head with it. “That’s all you’re gonna get,” she said.
Now Sam had a hold of the pillow, which was quickly thrown on the floor. Cuppie jumped off the couch when the ruckus began, so Allie had room to pull up her legs and sit facing him. “You’re the one who’s in love with me,” she said, one-upping him at his own game.
“That’s a mighty big word to throw around like that.”
“You started it!” The man was exasperating.
He scooted closer, and she knew exactly what he was doing. It was written all over his suddenly serious face. His hand slid up to her cheek as he went to close the gap between their lips. Allie leaned over to the coffee table and picked up her mug of soup. “I’m hungry,” she said, taking a cold sip.
He backed off immediately, and she felt his disappointment. It took him a while to recover before he said, “I’m not mad, okay. It’s all cool either way. I just need to know. Do you like that other guy?”
So, he’d definitely heard what Jessa said about Joey. Allie put the soup back on the table. “I thought maybe I liked him because he reminded me of someone I used to know.”
“And now?”
She shrugged. There was no use pretending. The fact was, she didn’t know how she felt about Joey, aside from embarrassed. “I guess I’ll have to see how things go at work on Monday.”
Sam nodded slowly. “So, I’m the casserole in the warming drawer.”
“What?”
“My mother used to put casseroles in the warming drawer underneath the oven. She kept them warm until it was time to serve ’em up. Looks to me like you’re trying to keep me warm until you decide.”
“What am I supposed to do? I barely know either of you. I need some time to figure things out.” Men were all about instant gratification, all the time. See, want, take—that’s how they operated. “Would you rather me stick you in the freezer?”
“Maybe I need to stick myself in the freezer.” He scooted over, picked up the pillow, and handed it to her. Then he patted the couch for Cuppie to come sit between them. Allie lay down, her feet underneath the dog’s belly with Sam on the far end of the couch. The ambient noises were suddenly back—the crackling fire, the whooshing wind, the soft breathing of the dog.
Soon, every living thing on the couch was sound asleep.