Page 5 of Floodgates

“I’m a bookkeeper at an import-export company,” I answered, and I realized suddenly that I was really thirsty. “Hey, Kev, can I have some water?”

“You could have some ice chips.”

“Why can’t I have water?”

“Why can’t he have water?” Matt asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

They exchanged looks then, the doctor and the fireman, and for the first time I felt a twinge of worry.

“Guys?”

“It’s in case we have to operate on ya,” the doctor answered me softly, his tone designed to comfort me, which it did.

“That’s direct and to the point,” Matt said matter-of-factly, trying to sound braver than he felt. I could hear the fear in his voice. “Now you two need to go away so I can finish telling my friend about my hot date tonight.”

The fireman smiled and rose from his crouching position next to the window, but the doctor didn’t move.

“He’s serious now,” I assured him. “He can get a bit graphic. Might make ya blush.”

“Can I take a quick look at you first?”

“Go ahead,” I said, trying to shift in my seat so I could get my wrist free to show him. “Look at me.”

He leaned into the car then, and it was only at that moment that I realized the door lock was upside down. I was not in my seat; I was sitting on the roof of the car. The dome light was in the crack of my ass, my head was next to a hanging seatbelt, and the reason I couldn’t get out was because most of the trunk was beside me.

“Is our friend Sara okay?” I asked. “She was sitting right here beside me.”

“It’s truly a miracle, but she is indeed all right. Only you and your friend here are looking to have sustained some serious injuries.”

“How serious?” I heard the edge in my voice.

“Well.” He grinned at me, and for the second time I noticed his warm eyes that were a gorgeous dark indigo, almost violet. They sparkled when he smiled. “I think you probably have a concussion,” he answered gently, “and you—” He indicted Matt with a jerk of his head. “—I think you’ve got a concussion as well. You’re both obviously experiencing some shock.”

“We’re so not in shock,” I choked out, “this is us all the time.”

Matt laughed then, and I dissolved into a fit of giggling.

The doctor smiled at us and left.

“Oh, he’s a dish,” Matt said as soon as the doctor was out of earshot.

“He’s from Georgia,” I told him. “He’s a peach.”

Matt rolled his eyes and resumed telling me all the intimate details of the sportscaster’s anatomy that he had discovered thus far. The first date had been good; the second was sure to be better.

We were not alone long before the doctor reappeared at my door.

“Let’s talk a little,” he said to me.

“Okay,” I agreed. “What would you like to know, Doc?”

“Names would be good for starters,” he said warmly, really looking at me, into my eyes.

“Well, my name’s Tracy.” I yawned. “Tracy Brandt, and this is my dear friend Matthew Sato.”

“Pleased to meet both of y’all,” he said, and I noticed how his gaze never left mine. “My name’s Breck Alcott.”

“Breck?” Matt asked. “Is that short for something?”