Zack awoke gasping for air and choking against the nightmare water. Sweat had soaked through to the sheets, making him shiver in the chill. With a groan, he let his head fall back and waited for the first grinding ache of nausea to pass.

The room tilted once as he staggered to his feet. From past experience, Zack knew to close his eyes until it righted again. Moving through the dark, he went into the bathroom to splash the cold sweat from his face.

“Hey, you okay?” Nick was hovering in the doorway. “You sick or something?”

“No.” Zack cupped a hand near the faucet, catching enough water to ease his dry throat. “Go back to bed.”

Nick hesitated, studying Zack’s pale face. “You look sick.”

“Damn it, I said I’m fine. Beat it.”

Nick’s eyes darkened with angry hurt before he swung away.

“Hey, wait. Sorry.” Zack let out a long breath. “Nightmare. Puts me in a lousy mood.”

“You had a nightmare?”

“That’s what I said.” Embarrassed, Zack snatched up a towel to dry off.

It was hard for Nick to imagine big, bad Zack having a nightmare, or anything else that would make him sweat and go pale. “Uh, you want a drink?”

“Yeah.” Steadier now, Zack lowered the towel. “There’s some of the old man’s whiskey in the kitchen.”

After a moment, Zack followed Nick out. He sat on the arm of a chair while Nick splashed three fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. He took it, swallowed, then hissed. “I can’t figure out how he had a liver left at the end.”

Nick wished he’d pulled pants over his briefs. At least he’d have had pockets to dip his hands into. “I think when he started to forget stuff, it helped him to blame it on the whiskey instead of—you know.”

“Alzheimer’s. Yeah.” Zack took another swallow, let it lie on his tongue a moment so that his throat could get used to the idea.

“I heard you thrashing around in there. Sounded pretty bad.”

“It was pretty bad.” Zack tilted the glass, watched the whiskey lap this way and that. “Hurricane. One mean bitch. I never understood why they started naming them after guys, too. Take it from me, a hurricane’s all woman.” He let his head fall back again, let his eyes close. “It’s been nearly three years, and I haven’t been able to shake this lady.”

“You want to—” Nick cut himself off. “That should help you sleep.”