shook slightly. “Don’t . . . feel . . . good . . . Lonnie.”
“I know. You had too much to drink. I’ll help you inside and you can go to bed. If you get a good night’s sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.”
Darcy waited until Lonnie had opened the passenger door, and then she attempted to focus on the dashboard. “Cake,” she said.
“I’ll come back after it. And I’ll put it on your kitchen counter. Then you can have some in the morning for breakfast.”
“Yes.”
There wasn’t much emotion in Darcy’s voice, but what little was there sounded pleased. Lonnie helped her out of the car, no easy task, and managed to pull her up the steps that led into the house. “Is the door locked?” he asked her.
“No. Lost... key.”
Lonnie held Darcy with one arm and tried the doorknob. It opened immediately and he half-pulled, half-carried her inside. He walked her through the kitchen, careful not to let her trip on wastebaskets, mops, and other impediments on the floor, and took her through the living room doorway. “Where do you sleep?” he asked her.
“Hallway . . . first room . . . mine.”
Her voice was no more than a whisper, and Lonnie knew he had to hurry and get her into her bedroom before she passed out. Her legs were like jelly as he walked her to the hallway and into the first bedroom.
“Here you go, Darcy,” he said, pushing her onto the bed. “Can you get under the covers?”
“Nooooo.”
“Then I’ll cover you with a blanket,” Lonnie told her, grabbing the one at the foot of the bed and draping it over her. “Sleep, Darcy. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Caaaake.”
Lonnie felt like laughing, but tears came to his eyes instead. Poor Darcy was really messed up. “I’ll go get it and leave it right here on your dresser,” he told her. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep. You can have some cake in the morning.”
True to his word, Lonnie left the room and hurried through the house to the garage. He removed the cake box from the dashboard, carried it back to Darcy’s room, and placed it on the dresser. As he did, the lid flipped open and he noticed a card taped to the inside, it had Cassie’s name written on the front. He assumed it was a birthday card. Why hadn’t Cassie opened it? And that was when it hit him, a lethargy so deep it bordered on paralysis.
“Whoa,” he said, resisting the urge to fall on the mattress next to Darcy. He staggered from the room and down the hallway until he reached the living room. There was the couch, an overstuffed maroon monstrosity that looked so inviting, he couldn’t resist. He told himself that there was no way he could drive home now. If he tried, he might fall asleep on the road. His feet, which suddenly seemed leaden, carried him to the sofa and he fell into its velvet depths, embracing the blackness that consumed his mind and carried him off to slumber.
Chapter Eight
Abright light was shining in his eyes. Lonnie tried to turn over in bed to escape the morning sun, but something was in his way. He reached out with his hand and felt something padded, something soft, and something that felt like old velvet. There was nothing like that in his bedroom. Where was he?!
It hurt to open his eyes, but he did it. And the first thing he saw was his car keys on the coffee table in front of him, along with a garage door opener. But he didn’t have a garage door opener. He had to get out of the car and open his garage door manually. He’d opened a garage to put his car inside, and the car keys on the coffee table were definitely his. The little metal tag with his initials proved that. He’d obviously driven here, but where was here?
He wanted to shut his eyes again, to sleep until his head stopped spinning, but the unanswered question plagued him. Since the garage door opener was next to his car keys, he must have managed to open a garage to pull in. He vaguely remembered the door sliding up. And he remembered helping someone out of his car. Who was it? And where were they now?
His mind seemed to be operating in slow motion and he did his best to concentrate. And very slowly, but eventually, the memory of the preceding