I opened my eyes and shivered; my dreams were getting so creepy, I preferred being awake and tired.
“How long of a drive is it to Atlanta?” I asked Bryce, who was staring out the window.
He sat up straighter. “Over four hours.” “You feel any better?”
“A little. How long have I been asleep?”
“Less than an hour,” he replied.
“What in the hell?” barked my dad from the front.
Before I could ask what was wrong, he slammed on the brakes and got out of the SUV. Bryce and I quickly followed suit.
Tiny had gotten out of the van and was shaking his head as he walked toward us.
“Why’d you stop?” asked my dad.
“It’s that girl, Eva,” he said. “She started ranting and raving about wanting to see Bryce. She’s driving us all nuts.”
We all turned to Bryce, who looked dumbfounded. “Hey, don’t loo
