Page 80 of Sully

“Dogs are different,” he said with a shrug.

And even if our reasons for saying so were different, I couldn’t help but agree with him.

“I get that,” I said, sitting down right there on the garage floor, letting Zima climb in my lap and lick my face.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Perish said. “Sully,” he clarified. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Got shot myself recently,” he said, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re… an island,” I said.

“It was a through-and-through to his shoulder. They just gotta clean him up. Make sure he doesn’t get an infection. No biggie. You need something? A blanket?”

“Blanket?” I repeated, focusing on breathing deeply through my nose and the soft feel of Zima’s hair.

“You’re shaking.”

“It’s just the anxiety. It’ll pass.”

He gave me a nod. He clearly didn’t understand, but I appreciated that he wasn’t the sort to ask a bunch of questions.

“Did you tear up the grass?”

“What?” I asked, sure I misheard him.

“When you drove in. Did you tear up the grass?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know,” I admitted.

Who cared about the grass?

To that, he shrugged. “I guess I can fix it.”

“It’s kind of dead anyway,” I said, the strange turn in conversation helping more of the anxiety slide away.

“Dormant, not dead,” Perish said.

I was opening my mouth to say something when the door on the side of the garage flew open.

Then there was Fallon striding in with purpose.

Until he saw me on the floor.

“You okay? You get hit?” he asked, making a beeline for me.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Just… anxious,” I clarified.

“Alright. You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Then, can you come inside? Sull’s gonna be asking about you. Can’t be telling him I left your ass on the cold garage floor.”

He offered me a hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. “Sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” I said, sounding a lot more steady as we moved in through the garage door next to the bar in the common area.

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