Page 75 of I Can't Even

He was standing directly in front of me, and I was staring up at him from my two feet.

Shit.

“I did it again?” I asked curiously.

“Yep,” he confirmed. “But I can’t just let you take off when I leave.”

That was an understatement.

In actuality, what he was trying to say without saying, was that he couldn’t leave the house with me sleepwalking because I might hand deliver myself to a serial killer. A serial killer who hadn’t made a peep in fucking forever.

My head tilted as I took him in. “Your glasses today?”

“Head and eyes hurt,” he admitted. “You were really restless last night, and it sort of, maybe, kept me up.”

I instantly felt bad.

He was the one who had to go to work today, not me.

It was my first of not one, not two, but three whole days off.

Yes, I had to take a test this morning. But, after that, I was free!

I didn’t know what to do with my excitement.

If I was a normal girl, and I could do anything I wanted, when and where I wanted, I’d spend the day getting my toes done. Then I’d go to lunch by myself. Then I’d visit that bakery with the drool worthy pastries everyone kept appearing with. Then I’d go buy some new scrub pants, because the ones I was wearing were getting a little tight in the waist thanks to my addiction with said bakery.

But I wasn’t normal.

I had a serial killer who wanted to see me dead.

Meaning, nothing was happening today.

Not unless I could convince one of the Carter brothers to go with me…

I bet I could get Auden to do it…

“Who’s my jailer today?” I asked as I leaned forward and placed my head on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me a little too tightly before saying, “My dad, actually.”

My brows rose. “Really?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. “He’s got some errands to do in town, and I figured you’d appreciate getting to do them with him.”

I smiled against his muscular pecs.

“Thanks, Quaid.” I nuzzled into that space between his muscles. “Sorry for keeping you up all night.”

“It wasn’t all you,” he said as he let me go. “It was a bunch of things. That murder I worked two nights ago? I was texting with Quincy off and on helping him roll some ideas through his brain. Then I got a text from the night watch letting me know I’ve already had three men call in today due to the stomach flu.”

Speaking of stomach flu…

“I don’t feel so hot myself,” I admitted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The longer I was awake, the worst I started to feel.

Yesterday I’d felt off all day.

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