Page 48 of Floodgates

My brothers took up bookend positions on the couch, and I flopped down between them. There was silence as Alex took off his leather jacket and Evan shed his suit jacket.

“I have to tell you,” Joanna burst out suddenly, “I watch Cape Cod every single week. I have watched it ever since it started, and now I’m sitting here with you and it’s totally amazing.”

Evan smiled the one that did nothing for his eyes but looked mostly real. “Thank you,” he said amiably, patting his leg at the same time, turning to look at me. “Why don’t you rest your head, druggie?”

I would have told him where to go with the druggie reference, but I realized my head was getting fuzzier by the second. I still had the concussion thing happening. So I stretched out, legs on Alex, my head on the pillow on Evan’s lap.

“Tracy, can I make up the bed in the spare room for you?” Beth asked me softly. I heard her, but I didn’t see her, as my eyes had drooped closed, and I really didn’t have the interest in opening them.

“No, no,” my dad answered for me, “he’s better here with us.”

“He wouldn’t be more comfortable—”

“No,” my dad said, interrupting her. “He’s plenty comfortable there and feeling pretty safe, as well. Safe is the important thing now.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Alex said petulantly, and I felt him taking off my boots.

“What does that mean?” my dad asked, his tone firm.

“I only told you he got attacked,” Alex almost snapped at him. “I didn’t tell you why.”

“Then tell me why.”

“Not right now.” Alex sounded so peevish I wanted to kick him, but I didn’t have the strength. He dropped his hand to rest heavy on the back of my right calf, and the warmth felt really good. I realized I was freezing again and mumbled something to Evan.

“What?” Joanna asked, trying to hear me, I guessed, but too far away.

“He’s cold,” Evan told her. “Could you grab Mom’s afghan, Dad?” he asked, and I knew from the way he suddenly stopped speaking that he hadn’t meant to phrase it the way he had. There was no agenda with him, no underlying hint of malice. I knew without seeing him that Alex was pleased with the wording.

The blanket was like heaven—so warm, so soft. I snuggled into it and shoved my cold feet under Alex’s leg. I sighed my pleasure, and that apparently broke the tension. Everyone chuckled and relaxed. I tried to follow the conversation, but I nodded off, too content not to sleep.

Chapter 7

I STRETCHED and let out a yelp of pain. I had to stop doing that.

“Tracy, honey,” my dad said gently. I looked up, and he was right there, looming overhead.

“Hey, Dad.” I smiled up at him.

“What can I get you?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Let’s have some soup, okay?”

“Soup?”

“The instructions Alex has from the hospital say you should eat small meals because you have a concussion and you could throw up. I’m thinking soup is the safest thing.”

“Okay,” I told him, wanting to be agreeable. He left after smoothing my hair back from my forehead and bending over to give me a quick kiss. I leaned up on my right elbow, put on my heavy black-framed glasses that someone had been nice enough to take off me, and noticed Alex. He was sitting in the same place, at my feet, and he was snoring, with his head thrown back, his mouth open. I sat up and looked over the back of the couch and found Evan.

“And I was tired?”

He chuckled before throwing a card down on the table. I focused on the group then and saw that Beth and her daughter were still there. They were playing cards with Evan… and Cord.

“Hey,” I greeted him, struggling to sit up. “What are you doing here?”

“Trace,” Evan scolded me like I was being a brat. “Be nice.”