Restraint is Useless Here

Chapter Seventeen

Anna's eyelids fluttered open once the scent of strong coffee filled her nose. Untangling herself from the sheets, she realized she was wearing only a t-shirt—and no underwear.

Panic-filled thoughts rattled her brain as she tried to piece together the night prior. Surely she wasn't drunk enough to sleep with anyone after the 3am Pedialyte and leftovers binge.

Right? She would've remembered having sex.

But what if she did? What if she had sex with Brian? No, the idea of forgetting sex with Brian seemed impossible. But what if she wanted to forget it? What if it was bad? God, what if it was bad and it wasn't with Brian?

What if it was Johnny?

Glancing at the hook on her bedroom door, she saw her bikini hanging neatly and heaved a sigh of relief. The top drawer to her dresser was open and she remembered having no clean underwear, so she just crawled into bed bottomless.

Relieved, she wiped the sleep out of her eyes and glanced at the clock: 10:37am.

She had to do laundry today, then had to go get more than a duffle bag full of clothes from her apartment sooner than later.

Her circadian rhythm had become completely erratic since moving in with Matt and Val. That, and her inability to sleep longer than about 90 minute cycles.

The panic attacks hadn't entirely subsided, but she could fall asleep with ease now—thanks to Brian and his knack for acoustic lullabies—but Anna couldn't rely on him when she awoke a mere hour-and-a-half later, so she'd begun cheating a bit with an antihistamine to lull herself back into unconsciousness.

Not at all sustainable, but she was desperate. How long could a person go with such broken, fitful sleep patterns? Is this what new mothers go through?

During her last semester of nursing school, she'd learned about a rare but legitimate condition called Fatal Insomnia. Mostly, it was familial, triggered by a genetic mutation. But the disorder could also strike without any rhyme or reason.

The patient neurologically loses all ability to sleep and, ultimately, descends into dementia and dies from it.

And the fact that this is the conclusion I've reached within 120 seconds of waking up confirms nursing was a stupid idea for a profession, Anna thought. She knew too much.

Suddenly, a sweet and spicy aroma mingled with the coffee scent and drew Anna up to her feet, confusing her further.

Somebody was making breakfast and it wasn't her.

She opened her dresser in search of bottoms—she was down to the nitty gritty on clean clothing, period—then felt the blood drain from her face as she pulled out a pair of pajama pants with colorful little stethoscopes on them. Jack had bought them for her as a congratulatory gift when she'd received her nursing acceptance letter.

Val must've grabbed them when she'd collected Anna's things right after she'd moved in. Fisting them hard, she tossed them in the garbage can across the room with more force than necessary, knocking the whole thing over.

Even weeks removed from Jack, whether it be from nightmares or needing to calm her racing heart if someone approached her from behind or showing up in her fucking pajama drawer, he still haunted her.

And she wondered if that would ever go away.

The idea of Jack triggered a memory from the night prior, though: she had agreed to learn jiu jitsu. And Brian would be the one teaching her. Which both excited and terrified her.

Throwing on a pair of shorts, she padded into the kitchen to find Jimmy sipping coffee in the great room—and Brian standing over the oven, tasking himself with frosting cinnamon rolls he'd just pulled out of the oven.