Sleep No More (22 page)

Some guy at the next table was talking really loud. Something about Kyle Robard's accident.

Bryce glanced at him. It was the guy who'd come to their house asking about the funeral--and where they'd been on the night of the accident. Trowbridge.

What if it all came out here, now, in front of Toby and half the town?

Bryce mumbled to Toby, "Somebody needs to tell that guy to shut up."

Toby glanced over. "He's pretty ripped. Don't think it's going to be me."

Trowbridge
was
about a hundred-and-fifty percent muscle.

Panic grabbed Bryce's gut, but he couldn't see a way to stop the train wreck.

Then he thought, if they knew... if they knew for sure, his mom would be in jail right now.

She wasn't.

This was his opportunity to hear what the police were thinking. His stomach crawled up his throat as he listened.

"Trowbridge, you're full of shit," the guy with the deputy said. "They wouldn't let you have the senator's kid's case."

Both men looked to be well into a good drunk.

"No, man," Trowbridge said. "I got the call, so it's my case--and I'm going to get to the bottom of it. Senator'll owe me big time. There are footprints all over out there that don't add up. That chick that hit the kid says she doesn't remember--like nobody's used that line before. But I'll get her to tell me."

Bryce was breaking the balls and missed entirely.

Toby laughed. "Thought you said you'd played pool before."

The guys at the next table changed their topic to some girl's ass across the room. And before Bryce and Toby's game was finished, Trowbridge and his buddy left the table and went to the bar.

Bryce totally screwed his game because of the anger boiling under his skin. He couldn't stop thinking about Abby Whitman and the many ways she was fucking up his life.

Abby crawled into bed certain that no matter how tired she was she wouldn't be able to sleep--and not just because of her fear of sleepwalking. The look on Jason's face as he'd left her to go downstairs had haunted every breath since. She could swear she could still taste his kiss, even though it had been hours ago.

But she soon relaxed, soothed by the security of his nearness.

As sleep quickly claimed her, she realized for the first time in her memory she'd relinquished control, and it felt so very right.

Just as Jason was heading up to bed at eleven, he heard Abby's cell phone ring in her purse. He only debated for an instant before he reached in the side pouch and pulled it out. If it was her father needing assistance, it couldn't be ignored.

The ID screen said it was Courtney.

Jason's finger hovered over the green button. His curiosity made him press it. As he did, he rationalized that it could still be a family emergency.

"Hello, this is Abby's phone."

"Who is this?" Courtney's voice was rough, as if her vocal cords had been slightly damaged. It made Jason's skin prickle; even from a distance Courtney could torture her sister without even meaning to.

"This is Dr. Coble. Abby's sleeping. Can I take a message?"

"Oh my God, is Dad all right? She was supposed to call me!"

He wondered if she knew Abby had been in an accident. He doubted it. Abby was so protective of her family, sparing them unnecessary upset. And it hadn't made the national news. "Mr. Whitman is fine. I'll have Abby call you in the morning."

"Why are you..." she paused. "
This
is why she's making Dad see you; you're sleeping with her!"

"No, I'm not." Her tone had hit his hot button and it took an effort to keep his voice neutral. "And I've referred your father to another doctor."

"What are you doing there if she's sleeping, then?" She sounded like a jealous lover.

What the hell difference did it make if he
was
sleeping with her sister? Abby was a grown woman.

Even in this short conversation Jason figured out a few things about Courtney. The first being that she was resentful of anything that gave her sister happiness.

He decided to let her stew in her own jealousy. "I'll let Abby explain it all to you tomorrow."

"You'd better sleep with one eye open--"

Jason disconnected the call before he said anything he'd regret. Good God, that woman needed psychological help. He had no doubt she lorded Abby's guilt over her at every opportunity.

He'd seen cases like this. Traumatized children whose well-meaning families had only exacerbated the situation by doing what they thought was protecting them.

He gritted his teeth. Had anyone ever given consideration to what that was doing to Abby?

When Bryce and Toby left Jeter's at eleven-thirty, they took Bryce's car.

"Dude, something's got you pissed," Toby said.

Bryce was too angry to keep it in any longer. But he couldn't tell the complete truth. "My parents are divorced. I think they could get back together. Except my dad's getting all messed up with this woman."

"Bummer. Who is she?"

"Abby Whitman. She's using that accident she was in as a reason to hang all over him. Dad feels he's gotta save her."

Toby was quiet for a minute. When Bryce looked over at him, he had a weird kind of smile on his face.

Finally Toby said, "How about we stop by the liquor store and get something to help you chill?"

Bryce hesitated. He couldn't get caught. Not now.

But he didn't want to look lame in front of Toby. They'd just started hanging out. Toby understood stuff. Bryce's high school friends didn't have anything to worry about except passing U.S. History and who they were going to take to the prom.

Maybe a drink would stop this feeling like he was coming out of his skin. He could handle a little alcohol. He wasn't his mother.

"Sure," he said.

Bryce parked on the street, around the corner from the liquor store. He tried to give Toby some cash, but Toby refused to take it. Bryce sank low in the seat and watched for familiar cars while he waited for Toby to come back out. All he needed was to get caught. Then he'd lose his car and wouldn't be able to fix anything.

Toby reappeared with a brown paper bag and got in the passenger seat. "I'd say we could go to my grandmother's, but she gets all bitchy when everybody's not over twenty-one. But I've got another place in mind."

"Okay. I need to swing by my house first, check on my sister."

"Is she hot?"

Bryce shot him a disgusted look. "She's
seven.
"

A few minutes later, Bryce turned onto his street. "Fuck."

"What?" Toby asked, quickly tucking the bag with the booze under the seat.

"My dad's car's still here. He was supposed to come and pick it up."

"So?"

Bryce pulled in the driveway. His mom's car was in the garage where it belonged. "I'll be right back."

Toby nodded.

His mom was in her bedroom with the television on. She'd fallen asleep with the remote in her hand. Bryce tiptoed over and gently pulled it from her grasp, smelling her exhaled breath as he did. He caught a whiff of alcohol.

She opened her eyes and smiled. "Glad you're home safe." Then she turned over and closed her eyes. At least she wasn't passed out cold.

He clicked off the TV. Then he checked on Bren.

Watching his sister sleep, he got all worked up again. Both his mom and Jason seemed to be making a royal effort to screw him and Bren over. Didn't they know how sad Bren was? Didn't they care?

He locked the house and went back to his car.

"You good?" Toby asked.

"Yeah. I wanna check one other thing."

"It's your party."

Bryce drove to Jason's. The lights in his house were all off. Abby Whitman's car sat in the drive. Bryce slammed his palm against the steering wheel. "Goddammit."

"That her car?" Toby asked.

Bryce nodded.

Toby shook his head. "Not good, man."

Bryce gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. Not good at all.

A
n hour after he'd gotten into bed, Jason still lay sleepless, thinking of Abby just a few feet away. It had blindsided him how quickly he'd become emotionally involved with her. Up until now, he'd not even considered the possibility of another woman in his life, even in a casual dating capacity. But what he had for Abby wasn't a casual date kind of feeling.

He'd been drawn to her the day in St. Andrew's. He'd been so impressed with her kind and pragmatic interaction with Maggie. Although he'd initially been looking for a way to avoid waiting with Lucy and her family, that intent had been quickly forgotten when Abby had turned around and looked at him with those bourbon-colored eyes.

He'd felt as if he'd taken a step into an elevator shaft, sans elevator. Even recalling that feeling made him feel foolish and adolescent--grown men living in reality didn't react like that. But he couldn't deny it, and truthfully he wasn't sure he wanted to. It had made him realize he was still alive, not the walking, talking shadow man he'd been for the past couple of years.

Those hours at Jeter's had given him a glimpse at some very appealing possibilities.

When he'd seen her in the hospital lobby, bruised and battered, it had been a kick in the gut. And he'd responded in a very un-Jason-like way; dumping his colleague and getting personally involved in solving her problem.

Then tonight when they'd found her place broken into and that threat on the mirror, he--a man of control and logic--had been as close as he'd ever come to putting his fist through a wall.

He was on a slippery slope for certain. And there were a thousand reasons why he shouldn't allow himself to slide any further.

The fact that he was lying here with a hard-on just thinking about her said he was failing miserably in gaining a handhold to stop his freefall.

There was a loud thump in the room next door that made him sit bolt-upright in bed. He listened intently for a sound of movement.

A soft rustle was followed by a footfall on the carpet.

He quickly got out of bed and went to the dark hall. There was no light shining beneath Abby's door.

Should he knock? What if she was just going to the bathroom? He felt a little like a stalker hovering near her bedroom door like this.

He heard a drawer slide open.

"Abby?" he whispered. If she was awake she should hear him.

No response.

If she was sleeping, he didn't want to wake her. The instant he opened the door to check on her, the alarm would go off.

He waited. And listened.

More rustling.

And then the door swung open and the alarm wailed.

Abby started to run, bumping into him on her second step.

He wrapped his arms around her and called her name. At first she struggled, then her eyes seemed to focus and she blinked. "Oh!"

Moving forward with her in a bear hug, Jason reached up and shut off the alarm.

He smiled down at her. "See, I told you I'd hear you the second you set foot on the floor." He didn't admit that he'd been lying there awake thinking of her.

She didn't look comforted in the least. She pushed herself away from him. Her gaze traveled down to where she'd certainly felt his arousal, but she quickly caught herself and snapped her gaze up to his face.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she said.

He tried to make light of her sleepwalking by pretending he misunderstood her comment. "Hey, a guy can't be held responsible for what his body does while he's asleep."

She did not look amused. "You know that's not what I meant." She was trembling.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look at it this way. You can sleep easy knowing I'll hear you if you go sleepwalking. This was a great test run. Go back to bed and go to sleep." He took a step backward, into the hall.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head and gave a sound of exasperation. Then she closed the door in his face. He heard the alarm switch back on.

"Good night," he called through the door.

He didn't get a response.

For the next forty minutes, he lay on his back, studying the ceiling, listening to her soft footsteps as she paced in Bren's room.

He had to keep his priorities straight. What Abby needed from him right now was support and protection. She did not need to worry about him having sexual fantasies about her while she slept in the next room.

And after this mess was behind them? He was going to have to play a game of wait and see, which normally suited his nature just fine. But Abby had already made him go against his nature. He didn't think wait and see was going to be an easy task.

He turned on his side, crossing his arms over his chest, and tried to change his course of thinking. If he was going to lie here awake, he might as well be productive.