“What?” I shout right back. Or I think I shout. Who knows? I’m so tired.
“Wake up.”
“No. I don’t want to.” I can hear my own voice, reminding myself of a petulant child.
“Yes.” I hear a laugh and it sounds pretty. “You need to wake up. You can only sleep a little while. You’ve got a concussion.”
“Concussion?” When did that happen?
“Yes. You have a concussion. Sit up a little bit so I can put these pillows behind your back. It’s time for some medicine too.”
I have no idea what’s happening, but the minute I open my eyes, I see an angel. “Am I dead?”
“No!” she says, sounding affronted. “You’re very much alive. You’ve got a concussion and a sprained wrist. You’ll be fine in a few days.”
My wrist. Lifting my hand, I attempt to move it around and wince. Alison’s sitting next to me on my bed, and even though she’s smiling, I can also see worry there. I close my eyes, trying to remember. Then it hits me.
“Sam tried to run us over.”
“He did.”
My eyes move left, then up, then right. “He punched me.”
“He did. You tried to get a shot in, but he beat you to it.”
“Ha ha.” Beat me to it. Not funny.
“They took me by ambulance?” I remember that now.
“You were treated and released.”
“What happened to Sam?”
“Arrested. Drunk driving.”
“What about attempted murder?”
“We’ll have to see what happens. I told the police everything.”
I look around my bedroom nook, then at her. “Sky?”
“She’s right here.” Alison moves to stand. I watch her bend over and pick up my dog. She sets her on my lap, and I pet the top of Sky’s head, talking sweetly to her.
Like a light bulb has gone off in my brain, I suddenly remember what happened before the knockout punch. “You saved my life.”
Alison blushes.
“You did. You pushed me out of the way.” I laugh but it’s not funny. “You threw yourself on top of me. You saved my life.” And risked her own.
“I did what anyone would have done.”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not true.” We all want to think that everyone would suddenly become a hero in an emergency, but it’s just not the case. “You’re a superhero.”
That gets her. She throws her head back and laughs. “Not in the least.”
“Yeah you are. You’re a superhero.” I lean forward until my face is an inch from hers. “You’remysuperhero, Ms. Kirby.”
“And you’re mine, Mr. Schilling.”
