Allison.

Adapted from Jocelyn’s newsletter, originally sent March 1, 2026.

Allison's hands are always doing something.

That's how I wrote them in Refuge (Allison's spotlight novella).

Folding laundry while she's on the phone. Wiping down a counter that's already clean. Adjusting a blanket over Ziya's legs even though Ziya can't feel it.

Allison doesn't sit still. Not because she's anxious. Because if her hands stop moving, she might have to feel something she's been outrunning for years.

I didn't plan to write Refuge.

After I finished Reunion, Allison's voice started showing up. She's in most scenes. She makes sure everyone eats. She remembers birthdays and notices when someone's been quiet for too long. She's the anchor of the group.

And she wanted a chance to tell her story.

Allison lost her husband to cancer. She didn't fall apart. She just... kept going. Made casseroles for the neighbors who brought casseroles for her. Showed up to Ziya's bedside like clockwork. Took in a three-year-old who wasn't hers and loved her like she was.

And nobody asked if she was okay. Not in any way that counted.

She's not dramatic. She's not loud. She doesn't kick down doors or throw fire. But without her, none of them would make it.

Allison holds people. That's the hardest job of all. Because people don't stay saved. They fall apart and put themselves back together wrong and need you to hold them again. There's no final battle. There's just... tomorrow.

And the day after that.

Maybe you see something of yourself in Allison. Or someone you love. Or someone you've been leaning on without realizing how heavy you've gotten.

Who's your Allison? The person who holds things together so quietly you almost forget they're doing it?

Tell me about them. I want to know who's carrying your world.

Tell me what you’re thinking. I love hearing from readers.