“Breathe,” he whispers. “Just breathe, honey. You’re safe.”
My lungs start working freely again, pumping oxygen in and out. I blink several times. Whatever had me so scared slowly vanishes.
“It was so real,” I mutter again, rubbing at my eyes.
“Just a dream,” he whispers.
Was it?
“I don’t know,” I say, sliding my hands down his back, taking just a second to love how huge he is, how shielded he makes me feel, this great big bear of a man. “It felt like a memory.”
He peels away just enough to give me a sharp look. “Don’t care what it was, Val. It’s not here and I am. If you dreamed up Old Scratch himself, I’ll kick his ass right back down to hell. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here, babe. Not through me.”
I actually smile. Amazing. But it’s like his strength bleeds into me, this raw, contagious confidence.
Whatever else I’m doubting, I don’t think anything could make me question his words.
I twist softly in his arms and see the French doors hanging open, letting the cool ocean breeze inside. I hear it out there, the dark waves lapping against the sand and rocks on the shore in this soft, steady rhythm. I see the moon reflecting off the water.
It’s so beautiful. So peaceful. So tame.
Maybe he’s right. I have to trust him.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. I am okay. I’ve got myself a manly cocoon of protection who just vowed to fight the devil himself. That has to win a guy some brownie points.
“Here, lie back down,” he says quietly, gently lowering me to the pillow. “I’ll grab you another Tylenol.”
“No, wait!” I grasp his arm. “Please don’t leave yet. I-I don’t need more pills.”
Slowly, he lays down beside me. I roll to my side and snuggle up against him. Lay my head on his chest.
He’s pure muscle, all smooth and freshly washed. I breathe deeper, finding comfort in the soapy smell, or maybe just in this imposing wall of a man.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say, stretching an arm over his chest. His bare skin is so warm, so firm. I nuzzle my cheek deeper into his chest. “It was just a bad dream.”
“I’ll ask Cash if it’s safe to get you some melatonin tomorrow. Or better, a nice stiff drink before bed,” he says with a wink. “Sleep, Val. I’ll wait till you’re out.”
I can smell the minty toothpaste on his breath, and that makes me smile. I wonder if it’s something else I always liked about him.
It’s all so odd, but at the same time it feels so right to be here snuggled up with his arms around me.
“Thank you,” I say. “For taking care of me.”
That’s truly how I feel. Grateful. I could’ve done worse, waking up with a lesser man who might’ve hoped I just drowned and never came home.
Sleep calls to me again.
Content and fully relaxed, I let it consume me.
Sunlight dances on my face in delicate bursts, telling me it’s morning and time to wake up.
But I keep my eyes closed a minute longer, relishing the cozy afterglow of having slept the rest of the night peacefully. Looks like Flint’s little pep talk worked to keep the monsters in their closet.
Something nudges my chin. Something with velvety fur and long pokey legs and breath like fish.
I’m eye to eye with the cat. “Savanny.”
The name just pops out of my mouth from nowhere.
Holy crap. I know that’s the cat’s name. It’s familiar. A play on the Savannah breed.
The little beast meows and headbutts my chin with her leathery nose again, big ears brushing my face, making this muffled, grinding purr.
“Savanny,” I say again, testing how the name just sticks.
She seems to remember, too.
This time the cat rubs my chin with the top of its head, firmer than before. I scratch the sweetness behind those big ears while searching my mind, wondering if I’m on a roll.
This amnesia schtick is getting old. I’m ready for my life to come back so I can get on with living.
I huff out a breath of frustration. Guess I was hoping for too much.
Yep, I know the cat’s name, but nothing else.
Just how?
How is that even possible?
Eyes closed, I concentrate on thinking, on remembering. Try until my head starts to hurt. I open my eyes again a minute later, sighing, knowing it’s no use.
Sadly, it looks like Flint and Dr. Ivers are right.
I can’t force my old self back.
Savanny starts purring louder. I smile because at least I remember this old routine, and scoop her up in my arms. Hmm, she’s lighter than I expected.
She’s rather large for a house cat, but slim and spindly on tall legs, so she can’t weigh a ton more than other felines. She swats playfully at a tuft of my hair while I admire the tawny color, the leopard spots, and those bat-like ears just screaming aww-dorable.
“If I know your name, why don’t I know more?” I ask the beast. “Were you my cat or Flint’s? Or did we get you together after we got married?”
No answer, of course—I’m not that crazy yet—she just looks up at me with big gold eyes.
Curious, I check the collar danging from her neck. There’s no name to confirm my memory, and the tag hanging under its chin seems more like...a medallion? It’s heavier than a standard pet tag, I think.
In fact, it looks like an emblem of sorts. There’s a beautiful black-crowned night heron embossed on the gold disk, complete with a tiny blood-red ruby for the eye.
Strange. A bird on a cat’s tag?
Poor bird.
Wait. How do I know that’s a black-crowned night heron?
Am I a birder watcher?
No, hummingbirds and ducks don’t feel like anything special. They aren’t significant. Not like this regal heron.
Why?
I’m doing it again. Making my head hurt.
Flint’s right, I’m trying too hard. And where is Flint?
His place beside me feels cool to the touch. Empty. Same for the room. He’s been gone well before I woke up.
Savanny scrambles out of my arms and jumps on the nightstand. I reach over, grabbing the base of the lamp so the cat doesn’t knock it off and stare harder at the clock.
It’s ten fifteen. It can’t be that late. I never sleep in.
Or do I?
Shaking my head, I shove aside the covers and flip my legs over the edge of the bed. The movement reminds me how achy and sore my body still is, how stiff lying around so much has made me. I stretch my arms over my head and twist, left then right, flinching as the muscles groan.
After a few head rolls to loosen up my neck muscles, I stand. I’m cautious until I’m sure my legs will support me, and then I lean over and touch my toes, stretching the muscles in my calves, back, arms, and hands.
Everything burns, but I hold the position for a full count of ten, knowing it’ll help me regain my strength.
Savanny jumps off the table and brushes up against the side of my leg, belting out a loud mew!
Not wanting to give myself a head rush, I rise slowly until I’m standing straight again. That’s when I notice a cell phone and a single slip of paper on the nightstand.
I pick up the paper and read.
Running a couple errands. Won’t be long.