“That’s why I’m here. Uncle Jeb was snoring like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

His answer didn’t make sense to me. “Don’t you usually sleep with Jeb?”

Jamie yawned and bent to untie the bulky bedroll he’d dropped to the floor. “No, I usually sleep with Jared. He doesn’t snore. But you know that.”

I did.

“Why don’t you sleep in Jared’s room, then? Are you afraid to sleep alone?” I wouldn’t have blamed him for that. It seemed like I was constantly terrified here.

“Afraid,” he grumbled, offended. “No. This is Jared’s room. And mine.”

“What?” I gasped. “Jeb put me in Jared’s room?”

I couldn’t believe it. Jared would kill me. No, he would kill Jeb first, and then he would kill me.

“It’s my room, too. And I told Jeb you could have it.”

“Jared will be furious,” I whispered.

“I can do what I want with my room,” Jamie muttered rebelliously, but then he bit his lip. “We won’t tell him. He doesn’t have to know.”

I nodded. “Good idea.”

“You don’t mind if I sleep in here, do you? Uncle Jeb’s really loud.”

“No, I don’t mind. But Jamie, I don’t think you should.”

He frowned, trying to be tough instead of hurt. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe. Sometimes people come looking for me at night.”

His eyes went wide. “They do?”

“Jared always had the gun—they went away.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know—Kyle sometimes. But there are surely others who are still here.”

He nodded. “All the more reason why I should stay. Doc might need help.”

“Jamie —”

“I’m not a kid, Wanda. I can take care of myself.”

Obviously, arguing was only going to make him more stubborn. “At least take the bed,” I said, surrendering. “I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s your room.”

“That’s not right. You’re the guest.”

I snorted quietly. “Ha. No, the bed is yours.”

“No way.” He lay down on the mat, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

Again, I saw that arguing was the wrong approach to take with Jamie. Well, this one I could rectify as soon as he was asleep. Jamie slept so deeply it was almost a coma. Melanie could carry him anywhere once he was out.

“You can use my pillow,” he told me, patting the one next to the side where he lay. “You don’t need to scrunch up at the bottom there.”

I sighed but crawled to the top of the bed.

“That’s right,” he said approvingly. “Now, could you throw me Jared’s?”

I hesitated, about to reach for the pillow under my head; he jumped up, leaned over me, and snatched the other pillow. I sighed again.