While You're Awake (3 page)

Ava lifted her head,
mumbled something he couldn’t understand, then turned and relaxed against the
seat. Like his three-year-old niece, who always fell asleep in the car and
forced him or her dad to carry her inside. Cute little bugger.

Ava was cute, too, the
way she curled to the side in a pouting sort of gesture. If only it were because
she was teasing and not because she was completely exhausted and possibly
injured.

He frowned. “Okay, Tired
Girl, let’s get you inside. I promise, you’ll be way more comfortable in there
than in my cramped truck.”

He didn’t expect her to
respond, but he wished she would. Setting one foot on the running board, he
leaned in and unbuckled her seat belt. The warmth of her breath on his arm
caused strange sensations to buzz around his body.

Carefully, he gathered
her in his arms and eased her out of the truck. Her ponytail fluttered in the
gathering wind, a trail of cinnamon dust, warm in the light.

As Keegan approached the
door, he cursed himself for being so foolish. He had forgotten to grab her keys
out of her purse. Hoping beyond hope, he shifted Ava closer to his chest and
turned the door knob—and it swung open freely. Crisis averted.

With hardly a glance, he
passed through the main room and carried Ava into her bedroom. The bed was
covered with a homey quilt with some sort of star pattern in shades of orange,
gold, and tan. A fake tree leaned toward the headboard, and vases of fake
flowers covered the nightstand and dresser. The window appeared to be locked
tight, the air stale as he took in a deep breath and laid Tired Girl on top of
the quilt.

Should he tuck her in?
The afternoon seemed a little too warm for that. He reached out to unlock the
window, sliding it partially open so some fresh air could find its way inside.
Another deep breath.
Much better.

He looked down and let
relief drip through him at the relaxed look on her face. He would check in on
her after work and bring her back to get her car. If she was still feeling
sluggish by the end of the day, he’d be sure to admonish her to get checked by
a doctor. For now, the best thing would be sleep, for sure.

Tearing his eyes away
from the cozy sight of Tired Girl curled on her side atop her quilt, he headed
back to the main room in search of pen and paper. He’d leave her a note,
retrieve her purse from the car, and then attempt to return his day back to normal.

He laughed aloud at the
thought.

Ava whimpered and rolled
over, barely registering the sound of a door closing before silence descended
on the house.
Wait.

She sat up, glancing down
at her rumpled quilt. That guy from Angels’—he brought her home. She remembered
that. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything about the ride, or
even the guy’s name.

She must have fallen
asleep in the car. How long had she been out? Not nearly long enough to make up
for all the sleepless nights, if her weighted lids and lack of energy were any
indication.

A gentle breeze found
her, and she shivered. Registering the sensation, she whirled around and nearly
fell off the bed in her haste to slam the window shut. Had that guy opened it?
Why? All sorts of bugs could have gotten through!

Her gaze flew across the
ceiling and over the walls, but everything seemed safe. For now.

With a sigh, she lay back
down, but sleep wouldn’t return. Her finger throbbed. Her heartbeat thudded.
With her ear turned to her pillow, her pulse and breathing sounded like an
obnoxious rock beat at a concert she’d rather not attend.

After several minutes of
trying to claim the sleep her body and mind desperately craved, she gave up.
She rolled gracelessly to her side and pushed herself to her feet.

On the dining room table
she found her purse, with her cell phone and a note beside it.

Hey Tired Girl. Sorry
I didn’t say goodbye but you needed the sleep. You’ll probably still be out
when I return, but just in case I’ll be back after work (about 9) so I can take
you to your car. I put my number in your phone if you need to reach me. Get
some sleep! See you soon.

The oddest little flutter
darted through her belly, then vanished. The letter, combined with the ghost of
odd sensations, left her wide-awake, though. Probably that sip of coffee
kicking in, too. She suddenly wished she’d had the chance to drink the whole
cup.

As it was, she had to
find a way to occupy herself while she waited for Angel Boy—she had to give
him
a nickname, if he was going to call her something like “Tired Girl”—and the
return of her laptop, which was sitting inside her car at the coffee shop.

The buzzing began as soon
as she started tackling the dirty dishes in the sink.

∞∞∞

Keegan returned to Ava’s
place expecting the little house to be dark and quiet in the coming night.
Instead, light glared at him from several rooms, and OneRepublic played loud
enough for him to recognize the song “If I Lose Myself” through the closed
doors and windows.

So much for the girl getting
some much-needed sleep.

He hopped out of the
truck, the slam of the car door punctuating the beat of the music. He had to
knock twice before the volume lowered and footsteps approached the other side.
The click of the lock preceded the slow turn of the knob, and finally Ava’s
blue gaze appeared in the space between the door and the jamb.

“Hey,” he offered, noting
the shadows beneath her eyes that seemed even more pronounced in the glare from
her lit-up home.

“Hey,” she replied
without moving back to let him in or forward to follow him to his truck.

Silence gave way to a
subdued crescendo in the music and the catchy bridge. He tapped his fingers on
his thighs, caught up in the familiar lyrics about overcoming. Tired Girl noticed
the movement and her lips lifted the tiniest bit in the corners. He grinned
back.

“So…should we go pick up
your car?”

“Sure.” Her words were
positive, although her tone sounded hollow. Had to be a symptom of the
exhaustion that weighed down her slender shoulders. “Let me just grab my keys.”

She didn’t invite him in,
but she didn’t close the door behind her. And hey, he had been inside already
today. With a gentle shove of the door, he entered the living area.

And stopped in his
tracks.

Keegan’s brow furrowed as
his mind went into overtime, trying to make sense of the black fuzz littering
the carpet and the sill of the nearest window. One of the spots moved, the
half-hearted crawl of something on its last legs.

His boots ate up the
space and brought him to crouch next to the dying honey bee. He stretched out a
hand, intending to scoop up the poor creature. But a gasp brought his head up.

Panic shone through Ava’s
wide eyes and vibrated through the hand clutching her keys. She stood rooted by
a small kitchen table, trembling.

Keegan knew that species
of fear. His heart started racing in response.

Breathe.
High
school was a long time in the past. He could handle bees.

“It’s all right.” The
insect’s fuzzy legs tickled his palm as he nudged it onto his hand and got to
his feet. “It’s pretty lethargic. It’s not going to sting anyone.”

Tired Girl shook her
head, and he startled as he noticed tears on her cheeks in the bright light.
She was crying? Why?

Had she already been
stung? Attacked by this dying swarm?

Concern caused him to
rush through the process of releasing the bee out into the tall grass of Ava’s
front yard. As soon as the creature left his hand, he rushed back into the
house and joined Ava by the table.

He scanned her face and
arms, looking for the telltale swelling. A deep breath filled his lungs and
released slowly as he realized she was fine. Physically, anyway.

He looked up to find new
tears pooling in the darkness beneath her lashes. “Oh, hey.” His arm rose
involuntarily, and he began to rub her shoulder in what he hoped were soothing
motions. He glanced back at the bees, his own shoulders deflating at the loss.
While he was as guilty as anyone when it came to killing offending bugs that
entered his personal space, he was raised to respect the role of honey bees.

“What happened?” he asked
after a few moments of watching helplessly as the tears fell one by one.

Ava shook her head,
gulping in a shuddering breath. She rubbed tight fists over her closed eyes,
then held out her palm, showing him the car keys. “I’m sorry. We can go
now—I’ve got the keys.”

He blinked. Wait…what?

He dropped his hand and
tried again. “What happened with the bees?”

“They got in somehow. I—I
wasn’t able to let them out.” Guilt resided in that hesitation. And fear.

Before he could question
her further, she spun away and hurried through the house, turning off the music
and all the lights as she went along. He took one last look at the spot where
the dead bees now blended into the shadows, then followed Ava out the door.

Ava crunched across the
gravel and climbed into the passenger’s side of his truck. Keegan rounded the
hood and got into the driver’s side, the cab painfully silent as he started the
engine. He backed the vehicle out of the drive and drove onto the paved road,
trying to decide how much he should involve himself in Ava’s life. He’d only
just met her. Prying should be reserved for friends, not strangers.

So he didn’t say a word,
although his mind had quite a lot to say.

So the bees got into
her house. How? Through a window? The front door? A vent?

Wait. I opened a
window before I left. But there was a screen…wasn’t there?

Oh please let there
have been a screen.

He rubbed his fingers on
his forehead and glanced in the rearview mirror before switching lanes to pass
a slow minivan.

Maybe there’s a hive
somewhere near her house. Or in her house. In the wall—that could happen. Or
they could have been trying to find a place to build their hive. It’s that time
of year.

I guess it doesn’t
really matter how it happened. It’s over. As long as there aren’t more of them.

He tilted his head
slightly to study Ava’s profile in the soft glow of the dashboard and
streetlights. The girl lived by herself; she might not have anyone around who
could help her transport a hive or even determine how the bees had gotten in.

Traveling the familiar
streets and pondering Ava and the dead bees kept him occupied until they
arrived at the coffee shop.

Keegan fingered the keys
but left them in the ignition. “Where did the bees come from, Tired Girl? If
you need help removing them from the house or keeping them out, my uncle is a
beekeeper. I could give him a call.”

He turned to find Ava
watching him.

“Really? That would be—it
would mean so much. You have no idea. I can’t pay much, though.” She bit her
lip, the panic returning to her eyes.

That fear made him wince.
He just wanted to take it away. “I think he’d be happy to help. Money shouldn’t
be an issue.”

She sagged in relief
against the seat. “Oh, my nickname for you is just perfect!”

Nickname? A satisfied
smile crept onto his face. “You going to tell me what it is, Tired Girl?”

She returned the smile as
she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Angel Boy. Because of the coffee
shop.”

The leftover tension in
the cab melted away. “Angel Boy, huh?”

She didn’t open her eyes,
but her smile remained. “Yeah. I still don’t know your actual name.”

“Keegan. But I think I
like Angel Boy better.”

She scoffed and peeked
over at him, apparently noting his raised brows and amused expression as she
replied, “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’ll try,” he murmured,
throwing in a wink.

She gave a short laugh,
followed by a long yawn. With seemingly great effort, she slowly sat up and
rubbed her eyes. “I better get going before I fall asleep in your truck. For
the second time in one day.”

He tapped her wrist as
she lowered her arm. “You sure you’ll be able to make it home okay?”

“Yeah.”

Color me not
convinced.
But she was a grown girl—not to mention a very new acquaintance.
She could make her own choices. Still… “How’s your head?”

She reached for the door.
“Fine. Only a little tender, but the headache’s gone.”

“Promise me you’ll get
some sleep tonight?”

“I’ll try.” She slid out
of the truck and poked her head back in. “Thank you so much for everything.”

It bothered him that the
smile and humor had fled her weary face. He drummed his thumb on the steering
wheel, imagining her returning to her empty house—empty except for the threat
of the bees that obviously terrified her.

As she stepped back to
shut the door, he called out, “Hey.”

She waited.

“If you need someone to
talk to tonight, you’ve got my number. I’ll probably be up for a while catching
up on
The Office
.”

It was hard to tell in
the dark, but he thought he saw her eyes light up. “Hmm. Well, at least I know
we’d have something to talk about.”

And with a deceptively
perky wave and the slam of the door, she was gone.

∞∞∞

[Unknown number]: You
still awake? This is Tired Girl, BTW.

[Angel Boy]: On my 3rd
episode. I’m strangely addicted to this awkward humor. Shouldn’t you be asleep?

[Tired Girl]: Sounds
like the years I was addicted to American’s Funniest Home Videos. Please don’t
judge. I wish I were asleep.

[Angel Boy]: Did you
try warm milk? A cold bath? Or whatever the cure is.

[Tired Girl]: Haha.
I’ve tried it all. Nothing works.

[Angel Boy]: Not after
the bees?

[Tired Girl]: Yeah. It
helps though, to know your uncle’s coming.

[Angel Boy]: I called
him earlier. He’ll come out tomorrow morning around 10.

[Tired Girl]: Oh
that’s wonderful! :) Thank you!!

[Angel Boy]: You’re
welcome. It’s no problem.

[Tired Girl]: I should
let you get back to your Office marathon. Good night, Angel Boy. Thank you
again!

[Angel Boy]: Good
night, Tired Girl. It’s going to be fine with the bees. I mean it. You’ll be
OK. Will you come in for coffee tomorrow?

[Tired Girl]: I’ll be
there bright and early.

[Angel Boy]: Not too
early! See you then.

[Tired Girl]: Yes sir.
Good night. :)