I about banged the door down before it finally opened.
"Three seconds before I murder you," Jake whispered, his voice hoarse.
"She left."
"Who did?"
"Beth."
"So what the hell are you doing standing here in front of my hut ruining my sleep?"
"I panicked." And I'd had a nightmare about prom, one where there was blood and I was in that same damn car. Where the hell had I been going anyway? And why was I saying her name? It made me sick to my stomach that I couldn't remember. I wanted to punch a wall. And then to be woken up in the dead of the night and see tears in her eyes? It had about destroyed me.
"Oh, dear Lord." Jake opened the door wider and let me in.
Char was still sleeping. I grinned when she made a little mew in her sleep.
"My wife," Jake growled.
"Easy tiger. You won, remember?"
"Damn straight." Jake yawned again. "So, explain, what did you do to Beth to make her leave?"
I gave him a run down. "And she woke me up out of a dead sleep."
"I know the feeling."
"And expects me to be able to form coherent thoughts?"
"How dare she," Jake said dryly.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
I swore. "I don't know what to do." I wanted to chase her down and punish her for leaving then kiss her senseless for doubting me.
"Well, at least now you know what you shouldn't ever do. Don't ever stare at a woman like she's crazy when she asks you to give her a reason to stay and don't tell her to her face—"
"It was her back," I pointed out.
Jake rolled his eyes. "Don't tell her in any way that you aren't going to chase her. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you wake up this stupid, or does it develop throughout the day?"
My stomach dropped down to where my balls had conveniently disappeared. "This morning, I'd have to say I woke up that way." Either that or the thirty-foot jump jarred something in my head.
A loud bang was heard on the door.
Swearing, Jake ran to open it and came face-to-face with Grandma. She was wearing leopard silk pajamas and had a creepy green mask covering her entire face, except her eyes.
"What did you do?"
"Me?" Jake sputtered. "Try him."
He pointed at me. He may as well have put a giant-ass target on my back and handed Grandma a shotgun.
"You." She joined in the pointing.
I started sweating.