Page 81 of The Fall

So I got back up.

Jesus, poor Cammie.

I would have to make it a point to forgive her sooner rather than later.

The day I graduated from Austin might’ve been the worst day of my life because of Dean’s broken promise and my inability to let go—but the day I graduated from medical school was one of the best days.

I had been through hell, and though most of it was self-induced hell, I had done it. And my little sister looked at me the way I’d always hoped she would.

For a brief moment in time, I was my little sister’s hero, and Dean was no longer mine.

Maybe Dean didn’t know the exact details of how I mourned him or the loss of our baby, but I knew them. I was ashamed of them, and judging by Cammie’s reaction to our relationship, I was in the right to think it was impossible to start it up again. Loving Dean made me a train wreck. Maybe I was a stronger woman now, and maybe I could actually handle the way I felt a little less drastically. Being out of control like that could completely change your outlook. And while every single piece of my heart belonged to Dean—even the broken ones he’d asked for—my head still belonged to me. I’d fought for that control for years, and it was a well-earned victory.

I looked at my phone only to realize I’d been staring at the fountain for an hour. I quickly made my way back to my shift.

And this is precisely why you don’t go there. Work, focus, career…You have a practice to build!

Dallas

Now

At seven o’clock that night, I answered the door for who I assumed was my sister and got the UPS man instead. I signed for a package, sure I’d not ordered anything but took the box out of his hand. He quickly brought in two more, exactly the same size as I opened the first.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t order this,” I said, puzzled by the boxes’ contents.

“Looks like the return is a Dean Martin. Sign here.” I rolled my eyes as I pulled the first pillow out. The man came back from his truck carrying five more boxes.

“What in the hell?” I questioned as I signed for them. “How many more are there?” I said, peering behind him.

He ignored me as he brought the boxes in one by one and stacked them in my entryway. I thanked him and shut the door, staring at the intrusion. I quickly dug in and found every single one was a pillow. Memory Foam, Wassaba, My Pillow…all of the infomercial pillows made an appearance in my new collection. I laughed hysterically as I opened each one, testing them out with my fist.

Dean was well aware of my issue with the right pillow. More than once in college, I had turned him down to sleep at his place to get back to the comfort of my bed. He had six brand new pillows lying on his bed at his frat house the next night, and we had used every single one in one form or another. I had griped a few times recently at his new place for not having more than one for each of us. He simply looked at me, shook his head, and threw his pillow in my face, opting to sleep without one. I teared up at the recent memory.

“This has got to be the coolest thing ever. Did Dean send these?” Rose smiled, shutting my front door as she eyed me on the floor. “Dallas?”

“Fuck,” I bit out before throwing my arms around her, dragging her down to the floor with me and crying on her shoulder while I clung to her.

“What is it?” Rose said, taken by surprise. She let me have my minute, and when I pulled away from her, I was laughing.

“What the hell is wrong with you, crazy woman?” She was giggling as she gauged my reaction.

I looked around me and laughed with her, surrounded by a mountain of pillows.

“Most girls get flowers. Only Dean would know a comfortable pillow would be the way to your heart.” She picked one up and tossed it at me playfully. I nodded, wiping away my last stray tear. “Did you bring food?”

“No, you were supposed to order it.” She stood up, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got this, loser. What good are you?”

“I’m not lately,” I said in a whisper.

“I’ll handle it. Just go shower or find about twenty-five new cases for these.” She gestured, pulling her phone from her pocket. “And Dallas, you will be telling me what the hell is going on.”

I nodded, dragging a handful of pillows to my bedroom.

I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to beat down the urge to fly over to Dean’s in nothing but a winter coat, when I got a text.

DEAN: Twenty-five notifications from UPS that your packages arrived. Sleep well, Dallas.

I couldn’t stop myself from replying.

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