Accidental Shield

I’m crying for my lost cat, who doesn’t stand a chance in this maelstrom of salt and slapping waves.

It can’t go down like this. I have to find her, save her, somehow.

So I look up and swim with all my might, fighting for the surface.

My head hurts like a beaten drum, but I have to keep swimming. I have to find the surface.

My lungs are fire now.

Oh, God, I can’t breathe.

* * *

“Valerie?”

I hear Flint’s voice, but I can’t see him. Can’t find him.

I can’t breathe. My lungs are locked. It hurts so bad.

“Wake up, Val. Wake the hell up!”

My eyes fly open and scalding air gushes out of my lungs so hard I cough. Hunkered down beside me, Flint yanks me up, patting my back.

“Jesus. I…I had a nightmare. Flint, it was so—”

“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.