Abstraction ➳ Owen Grady

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AFTER A FINAL visit from the doctor and instructions on how to care for a concussion and stitches, she was released from the hospital under Owen's surveillance. Claire had been there when Ally was released. As it turned out, the wound on her leg didn't need any treatment beyond being cleaned and wrapped. She'd been lucky.

The harbor side hotel in Crescent City was complimentary thanks to the Dinosaur Protection Group. They'd need it until a flight to either Butte or Lawrence popped up for a last minute booking. Claire brought pizza and takeout to the room. She didn't stay long, though. There were already too many news stories about what happened at Lockwood Estate, and she wanted to spare Owen and Ally from being involved with that.

He'd gone down to the hotel's business center, looking for flights seeing both their phones had been ruined. The next flight to Lawrence was in four days. They could rent a car and get back quicker. So that's what he did. They'd leave in the morning.

Ally had almost been asleep when he came back into the room. He pulled off his stained navy henley and dropped it on the floor next to the bed. His blue jeans followed suit. She rolled onto her side, hearing the shower turn on, and returned her attention to the classic cartoon channel.

He came out with the white towel wrapped around his waist. Ally frowned at the large, dark bruise on his right side and the angry looking scratches on his back. It looked like he could've broken a rib or two. "You should've let the doctor look at that," she grumbled as he pulled on a pair of boxers.

"I'll be good," Owen assured her, ruffling his hair with the towel to finish drying it. Compared to what she'd been through in the past forty-eight hours a bruise was nothing. He threw the wet towel across the room and joined Ally beneath the white sheets and duvet.

She was nearly asleep again, her bandaged arm draped across her stomach in a sling, rising and falling as she breathed. The bruises on her temple and around her eye looked worse now than they had earlier. Owen rolled onto his side and reached over, brushing dark, damp hair away from her eyes. "I've got something to tell you," he said in a low, tired voice.

"Mmm?" Alysanne's eyes felt incredibly heavy. Owen Grady moved closer to her on the bed and rested his hand on her neck before planting a soft and quick kiss to her parted lips. She smiled and turned into him. "I love you too, Ally."

✹✹✹

The lights were on in the suburban house when they pulled into the drive next to another car that didn't belong to Ally or Owen. It was clear who the 1998 Subaru Outback belonged to, though. Sally Sattler rushed out the front door.

"Jellybean!" The force of the sudden embrace almost knocked them both to the grass. Alysanne Sattler pressed her cheek into her mother's shoulder and tried to stifle the tears. She gripped onto her mom's sweater with her uninjured hand and felt her mom's body shake as she sobbed.

Sally pulled back but held tightly to Ally's shoulders after wiping the tears from her eyes. "Claire called and told me." It was a phone call she never wanted to receive again. She'd driven through the night and most of the morning, knowing that neither Ally nor Owen had functioning mobile phones. "Why didn't you tell me you were going back?" She asked, voice cracking.

"I didn't want you to worry," Ally answered, not able to meet Sally's gaze. "But I'm okay," she reassured her mother and then she glanced back at a certain nettlesome raptor trainer that had saved her life and stolen her heart. "Owen took care of me." She would've died if not for him.

Sally looked at Owen too and stepped around her daughter to hug the man that had saved her daughter's life, again. He went stiff for a split second before gently patting her back. Her mom stepped back from him and ushered the two of them into the house, nudging her daughter toward the stairs. "You go rest," she said, kissing Ally's scratched forehead, "and I'll cook something up."

Owen laid his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the bedroom. He grabbed one of his faded green and blue plaid shirts from the closet and a pair of her running shorts. Neither of them wanted to stay in clothes stained with blood and mud for much longer.

He pulled on a pair of lounge pants with penguins and polar bears that she'd bought him for Christmas two years ago. Owen's attention shifted back to Ally when he heard a sharp intake of air. "I'm okay," she reassured him, he'd already sat next to her on the edge of the bed. He sighed and began buttoning up the plaid shirt.

"Do you want anything?" Owen asked, still crouched down at the bedside.

"Just some water, please," Ally answered. Her throat felt incredibly dry. He nodded, shrugging on a blue KU Jayhawks shirt before heading downstairs.

Owen returned with a glass of water and her throw blanket from the back of the couch. He settled next to her on the bed. Ally rolled onto her uninjured side and propped her head on his shoulder. He reached for her hand and started running his thumb over her knuckles. The soothing motion was enough to begin lulling her to sleep. 

When he was sure she'd fallen asleep, Owen pulled himself from the bed. He wasn't in the mood to sleep. He wanted to get his mind off the incident, to put it all in the past. 

Owen grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and popped the cap off. He braced himself on the granite countertop and hung his head low. Part of him wished they would've just stayed in Montana. He didn't notice Sally was sitting at the counter, chopping up carrots and celery to go in a simmering pot of stock. "How is she, really?" She asked, setting the knife down.

Sally knew her daughter was one to hide emotions in an effort to be strong. Ally learned to do that at a young age after her mother's first bout of cancer. Twelve-year-olds were supposed to be carefree, learning from mistakes, but Ally didn't give herself that chance.

"Shaken," he answered. Nobody could endure what she had and come out completely unscathed. He didn't think he could bear to tell Sally about the Gyrosphere. About the few minutes when she wasn't breathing. He took a swig of the Corona. "She's holding on."

She picked up the knife again and cut the top off of a purple carrot. "She's something else. Always has been."

He didn't think about what he was about to say and the words came out unplanned and rushed. "I love your daughter."

"I know you do," Sally responded, barely giving a thought to his admission. She glanced up from the cutting board, meeting Owen's surprised expression with a knowing one of her own. She liked to think of it as a combination of a mother's and a woman's intuition. Owen looked at her daughter as if she hung the moon and stars, and made the sun rise every morning.

"Oh please," Sally started, noticing his surprise. "Ellie and I both knew it when the two of you pulled up for Thanksgiving dinner three years ago."

He reached across the counter and stilled her shaking hand holding the chef's knife. "Let me help," he commented, not giving her a chance to refute. Owen grabbed a stalk of celery and began slicing it.

"'Soups' ready," Sally called from the kitchen.

Owen jumped out of his living room recliner and darted up the stairs. He crouched down next to the bed and rest his hand on Ally's shoulder. "Hey, baby." A soft groan left her lips and slowly, her eyes opened. "Your mom made chicken noodle soup." That brought a lazy smile to her lips. "It's extra good this time though 'cause I helped make it," he added with his own lopsided grin.

Ally came down the stairs, each step slow and calculated, but of her own will. Owen followed behind her, hands hovering near her waist just in case she stumbled forward or back. Sally stood over the stove, ladling out three steaming bowls of soup. "How're you feeling, Jellybean?" She asked, looking over her shoulder. Owen sat a bowl of soup down at her spot on the kitchen table.

"Killer headache-" she inhaled the steam from the soup, it brought back childhood memories "-the doctors said it could take a month before they stop." Luckily, there were still two weeks for her to recover before the spring semester started.

The three of them sat around the table, eating quietly, thankful to be in each other presence after everything that had gone wrong.