What Happens After Dark by Jasmine Haynes Page B

Then he’ll sleep.”
    She marched back into the bedroom. “Here’s your whiskey. But you have to take your meds first.”
    He swallowed the pill with a sip of water like a child taking sweet cough syrup. Then she put the straw into the shot glass and let him suck down the whiskey.
    He fell asleep so quickly, she thought she’d killed him. Grabbing his wrist, she felt for a pulse. She couldn’t find it. Oh God, where the hell was it? Dear Lord, her mother was right, she’d murdered him. They’d put her in prison. Her blood rushed to her head, and she thought she was going to faint away in a panic. Then she felt a tiny pulse beat. Almost nonexistent, but then it always was.
    Her head cleared. Of course she hadn’t killed him. But even if she had, would it matter that he died tonight instead of tomorrow or the next day? On the other side of the bed, she closed the curtains on the now complete darkness outside. Then she left him alone.
    Back in the kitchen, her mother was slicing the potatoes and putting them in the pan to boil. “Mashed tonight, don’t you think?” she said, not mentioning the morphine or the whiskey.
    “Sounds good.” Bree opened the fridge, pulled out the wine bottle, and poured them both a glass.
    “Cheers,” her mom said. They clinked and drank. Her mom liked the sweeter stuff, and over the last few evenings, anything would do for Bree.
    A quarter of an hour later, seated at the table in the breakfast nook, they ate baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli while her father slept.
    “What movie do you want to watch?” her mom asked.
    “ Beauty and the Beast .”
    “You’re such a little girl,” she said with a smile.
    “Yeah.” Bree would have suggested Pitch Black , but her mother wouldn’t like all the gore.
    The doorbell rang when they were doing the dishes, Bree washing the pans, her mom loading the dishwasher.
    Bree glanced at her watch. “The aides are early.” The hospice workers came in around seven to get her father washed and ready for bed. Not that he wasn’t already in bed, but certain things had to be changed.
    “I’ll get it.” Her mom’s hands were dry while Bree’s were covered in dishwater. She padded through the nook, the dining room, and into the front hall.
    As Bree set the last pan in the drainer, a man’s deep voice drifted back into the kitchen. So far, they’d had only one male aide, but that man’s voice had been higher. This was a new one.
    “Bree,” her mom called.
    She had the ungrateful wish that her mother would show them the way to her father’s bedroom on her own. Yet she dried her hands and headed out to the hall.
    “Hello, Bree.”
    Her heart stuttered to a full stop as Luke smiled at her.
    What the hell are you doing here? She managed not to say it, but she felt like a viewer at a tennis match, her head bobbing back and forth between her mom and Luke.
    “Your friend dropped by to see how you’re doing.” And oh, there was so much more absolute delight in her mother’s voice than that understatement suggested.
    “I’m fine,” Bree said, her voice almost squeaky until she caught it. “Thanks for checking.” A million questions ran through her mind. How did he know where her parents lived? Why was he here? What did he want? And oh God, what would he tell her mother about their relationship?
    “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Dear Mom, ever so polite, always looking after her guests. Not that she’d had many. Her father hadn’t liked to share her attention.
    Please, please, please, let him say no.
    Luke didn’t hear her silent plea. “I’d love one, thanks.”
    “Bree, why don’t you take Mr. Raven into the living room while I get the coffee?” Obviously, he’d introduced himself.
    “Please, call me Luke,” he said, his voice dripping with sweetness.
    Her mother beamed and cut back through the dining room to the kitchen.
    “What are you doing here?” she hissed at him as soon as they were in the living room on