The next time Lane woke, it was almost one thirty in the afternoon, according to the clock on the bedside table. He pushed the blankets down to his waist and lay back against the pillows, trying to gauge how he felt. Better, he had to admit. And he had to pee something fierce.
Kicking off the blankets completely, Lane carefully sat up. His head still hurt, but not much. What had felt like a pounding in his skull earlier in the day was down to a dull ache that twinged if he moved too fast. So he took it slow, one leg over the side of the bed at a time, left foot on the floor first, then the right. Both hands flat on the bed to push him upright…
Boyish laughter erupted in the main room of the cabin. Lane glanced up and saw the bedroom door stood open wide. He couldn’t see Braden or Remy—th
