DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete First Book

PART 3, SECTION 17

I turned away and forced myself to focus solely on Morgan. I checked her pulse. I was starting to worry that her breathing hadn't actually slowed. 

"And then what?" I asked Bryce pragmatically. "I woke up alone. Without my cell phone!" I slapped his arm. "Where'd you go?"

"Yeah, sorry about the phone," he said. "I got out of there when your husband showed up."

"My husband?"

What was he talking about?

"I've learned the hard way that if a guy from the military shows up when you're in bed with his wife, it's better not to stick around."

"Wait," I said. "What do you mean the military?"

"Well, it said Army on his sweatshirt and he had a big gun. I kind of put two and two together and crawled out the back window." He added sheepishly, "That part I'm glad you don't remember."

"Crap!" I whispered. "Ian was there?"

So all this time Ian knew I'd cheated on Shawn. He'd just been too gracious to say anything. I couldn't believe it. 

"That wasn't my husband," I explained. "He's my brother-in-law. Didn't I say so when I introduced him at the bar?"

"Nope." Bryce shook his head. "I guess all you said was that your husband was in the bar somewhere. I just assumed it was him. That guy really wasn't your husband? He sure was looking at you like he was." Bryce laughed, amused. "And he sure did come after you like he was, too. But I admit I didn't exactly stick around long enough to confirm one way or the other."

It had been a mistake to hope that Morgan was improving. By noon she was breathing much harder than ever before. Her whole body was starting to convulse.

Not only this, but now we couldn't keep her hand from making its way down into her sweatpants. Bryce tried to hold both of her arms to her sides, but as soon as he let up a little, she just pulled away and started . . . touching herself. It was bizarre, and terrifying. It was horrible. I didn't know how to react to seeing my best friend this way. It was like Morgan had been replaced by somebody else.

I'd gotten so used to the sound of her quick, raspy breathing that when it stopped it was like the whole world died with her.

There wasn't even the sound of pigeons tip-toeing on the tin roof. Everything was suddenly silent and still. Bryce just sat there staring at Morgan's motionless body.

I remembered playing with Morgan on this very hayloft when we were kids.

We used to hollow out nests in the loose hay and call them our "houses" and pretend we were visiting each other and that we were grown up. We used to plan out who we'd marry.

Now, just like that, she was dead.

Without my best friend, I felt numb. Not just numb to Morgan's lying dead in the hay at my feet, but numb to everything. Numb to my family, numb to Bryce. Numb to myself. Suddenly I didn't care if anyone lived or died.

Then, something happened, which, at the time, I had no explanation for. . .  

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