All for Allie Read Online Free PDF Page B

tickle you until you piss yourself.” She’s ticklish, and she hates when I make her surrender by her weakness. I glide her down my body and place her feet upon the concrete. “Ready?”
    She places her hand on her hips and cocks her head. “Really, Wyatt?” I nod. “One...two...three,” I begin. “You can’t catch me. You do know that, don’t you?”
    “Four...four and a half...” I continue.
    “Really, it won’t be fair to you. It’s like a newborn catching a toddler. It’s impossible to run when you can’t even crawl,” she huffs.
    “Five,” I finish.
    I reach out to tickle her stomach, but she takes off like a bolt of lightning. Taking in a deep breath, I run after her. She’s a good thirty - feet in front of me, which means I need to pick up speed. “See, you’re slower than a tipsy turtle!” she screams over her shoulder. Tipsy turtle me ass! I pick my feet up and place them one in front of the other, faster than I ever have before.
    I will catch her.
    “Please, I like to let you think you’re fast. We both know that I—” I crash to the ground, hard. Mother. Fucker. These damn dips in people’s driveways shouldn’t exist! They’re a hazard to runners, dammit. I look down to see that my knee is busted open, and blood’s flowing down my shin.... Great.
    “Oh my God!” Allie yells as she runs to me. She stops in front of me and her eyes examine my body. “Are you okay? Oh shit, look at your knee,” she pants. I can hear the panic in her voice as she bends down to examine my open wound.
    I place my scraped up hand to the side of her face and she lifts her glossy eyes to meet mine. “I’m fine.” Anytime Lucille, Kyle, or I get injured, Allie freaks out. If you ask me, she has a touch of post-traumatic stress disorder from losing her dad, but who am I to bring it up.
    “Does it hurt?” she asks concerned.
    I shake my head, “No, baby. It doesn’t hurt,” I assure.
    She lets out a breath and allows her body to relax. “Okay. So you’re okay to walk home?”
    Small chuckles escape me. “I’m good to go, promise. I mean, I can even carry you home, if you’d like,” I say.
    She shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
    Maybe I am, but I would carry her if she wanted me to. I’ll do anything for her, and she knows it. We stand in unison and I drape my arm around her shoulders. As we begin to walk home, warm liquid drips down my leg and pools around my ankle. As we walk, I feel my wound tear a little more, and it takes all my might not to flinch from the pain that’s surging through my entire lower leg.
    Once we arrive to her house, Allie helps me to the couch and runs to grab her mother’s first-aid kit. The benefit of living with a nurse is that they’re ready for anything. And as much as Kyle and I have boxed in her home, she’s remained stocked up on peroxide, alcohol and Band- Aids. Allie rushes back and stands in front of me. She sets the kit onto the coffee table, bends down, and opens it up. She reaches in and removes several items, some of which I do not believe are needed.
    I eye her curiously as she examines my leg. “Babe, you alright?” I ask. She’s standing with her hands on her hips as if she’s confused in some way. She snaps her fingers and takes off to the laundry room. She’s acting like a chicken running around with its head chopped off. She’s acting as if my leg needs to be amputated rather than cleaned.
    She returns with towels folded under her arm and takes a seat on the table in front of me, spreading the towels out under my leg. Reaching down, she grabs my ankle and pulls my leg up into her lap. “ Agh!” I blow out, accidently.
    Her head snaps up and her eyes go wide. “That hurt?” she asks, worriedly.
    “No, not really. I’m good, promise. Go ahead,” I urge. She pushes her hair behind her ears and nods. She reaches beside her and picks up the rubbing alcohol. My eyes remain glued to her hands as she begins to unscrew the cap. As I