Dead in Bed by Bailey Simms, The Complete First Book by Adrian Birch Page B

it, and
suddenly you were on tour?”
    He laughed. “Not
exactly. To tell you the truth, I don’t really care for country music.”
    “ Seriously ?”
    “My mom used to make
me play it. She had me playing professionally by the time I was a teenager.
Honestly, I’m kinda tired of
it. I actually really like some of the indie stuff I’ve heard lately.” He
laughed. “Don’t tell anyone this, but who I really, really like is Lady Gaga. I
can’t stop listening to her.”
    I broke out laughing.
“Are you kidding?”
    “And you know what
else? Want to know what my real name is?”
    “It’s not Bryce
Tripp?”
    “Nope. It’s Reggie Wislowski .”
    I laughed even harder
at this. “ Reggie?”
    He laughed, too, and
tried to put his hand over my mouth while I swatted it back.
    “Don’t laugh!” he
said. “I’ve gone by Bryce since I was a kid.” He sat back in the hay. “Don’t
tell anyone my secret.”
    “I won’t.”
    Bryce glanced at
Morgan again. She was sleeping peacefully and still breathing strongly. Even
the swelling around her eye had gone down.
    “I guess you must
really regret coming to do this concert here, after all,” I said. “Don’t you?”
    For a moment there was
a distant look in Bryce’s blue eyes. But then he looked right at me and gave my
shoulder a soft, playful push. “Not so far, I don’t.”
    I didn’t know what to
say. For a moment I forgot all about Mr. Hershel and Ian and Shawn. It really was a shame that I’d actually slept with
this staggeringly attractive country singer who had a secret passion for Lady
Gaga, but couldn’t remember a thing about it.
    “Thank you,” I said.
“Really. Thank you so much for everything.”
    “It’s nothing,” Bryce
said. “Look. You need to get back to your folks tonight. Why don’t I stay here
and look after Morgan?”
    I didn’t want to leave
him, but it was an attractive offer—the chance to get a good night’s
sleep and wake up to find Bryce still
waiting for me, watching over Morgan as she healed in the hayloft. And he was
right. I did need to get back to my family—we were going to Mr. Hershel’s
funeral service tomorrow.
    “You really don’t
mind?” I asked him. “Really?”
    He shrugged and
smiled. “What else am I going to do with myself?”
     
    * * *
     
    The next
morning I woke up at dawn to the sound of a text message on my phone.
    It was from Bryce.
     
come quick!!!
     
    I slipped out of my
old bedroom, tiptoed down the stairs, and ran to the shop.
    All the way there I
thought about how at one point Morgan had seemed to be getting better, but she’d
only ended up getting worse. What if it had happened this time, too, and she’d
slipped back into that awful, feverish state of labored breathing? What if this
time she really had died?
    I ran up the rickety
stairs that lead to the hayloft. I was moving so fast that one of the steps
cracked. My foot broke through, and I stumbled, but I caught myself on the next
step, which held. I peered into the loft.
    Morgan was awake,
sitting up, and talking with Bryce. She was smiling.
    I rushed to her and
hugged her.
    “I see you’ve been
getting yourself into trouble while I wasn’t around to watch out for you,”
Morgan said. She smiled at me, then raised her
eyebrows in Bryce’s direction. “Don’t even try to tell me you two behaved
yourselves while I was out cold.”
    “Shut up!” I laughed.
    I hugged Morgan again.
Less than a day earlier, I’d thought she was dead. Now she was glowing, looking
healthier than ever. I tried not to start crying, but I failed.
    “I’ll give you two a
moment,” Bryce said. He climbed down the stairs and left us alone, sitting in
the loose hay.
    “How do you feel?” I
asked. “Honestly, you look great.” Even the swelling around her eyebrow had
almost completely gone away.
    “I feel great,” she whispered, confused. “I
shouldn’t feel great, I know. Not after everything that happened. But I do. I
don’t understand