Page 56 of Floodgates

I leaned across the kitchen table and put a hand on Alex’s cheek. “I’m not gonna die.”

“No, you’re not,” Cord said hoarsely, and when his gaze flicked to mine, I was surprised at the weight of his stare.

I reached for him, and he took my hand tightly, surprising me with his grip.

When he turned to Alex, he didn’t let go of me. “There’s a patrol car on the street night and day so everyone can get some sleep.”

“Good,” I said, yawning. “We all need it.”

“Yes,” Evan agreed, standing up. “Cord, the couch is yours, Tracy, you come with me.”

Too tired to do anything but follow, I trailed after Evan up the stairs to the back bedroom, which had the other fireplace. I heard Alex mumbling something behind us as we all trudged along, but I couldn’t make it out.

My last coherent thought of the night was that I had not slept in the same bed with both my brothers since I was, like, seven or eight. It was comforting to look from Alex, asleep on his stomach, over to Evan, who had his back to me, and see them both instantly sound asleep. I felt safe even as I looked over to the nightstand and noticed, in the flickering light of the fire, Alex’s gun lying beside the lamp, on top of my mother’s Bible.

Chapter 8

I DREAMED about Cord.

It was embarrassing and made no sense, but in my dream I was held down and woke up panting, which was not a usual occurrence. I had to get up, climb over Alex, wobble to the bathroom, and take care of myself before I could pee. I was thankful no one had been awake in the bed to notice my discomfort.

Back under the covers, I was lying there staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out why I was dreaming about Cord again after so many years. After we first met, I had gone through a stretch of time—six months, maybe a year, I wasn’t sure—when he had been the focus of almost every nighttime fantasy. He had invaded daydreams as well, but it had been ages since Cord Nolan and his gorgeous green eyes had overrun my mind. When I finally got it figured out logically––he was there, in my space, so of course I would think about him––I was relieved. So when Alex rolled over and scowled at me, I was wide-awake, having been lying there for hours.

“Yes?”

“Do you not hear that?”

Evan was snoring and had been since I’d become conscious. “It’s jet lag. He’s tired.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“Isn’t snoring supposed to be bad or something?” I offered.

“It’s goddamn annoying as shit,” Alex said hoarsely, frowning at me.

“No, I mean it’s supposed to mean something, like you’ve got a health problem.”

“He’s got a problem, all right,” he said, sitting up in bed, “and I would not have stayed in here if you weren’t because, Jesus, who can sleep with him doing that?”

“Me, I guess,” I sighed, struggling to sit up beside him.

“You were all whacked out on drugs,” he assured me, putting a hand under each of my armpits and hauling me up next to him. “Christ, no wonder he ain’t got no woman. Who can take this every night?”

“There’s no one woman,” I told my brother, “but I’m sure there are many women in and out of his bed.”

Much eye rolling accompanied my statement, but we both knew it was true.

Alex got up then and went downstairs to get me some coffee and my glasses. He came back a few minutes later with a stricken look on his face.

“What’s the matter?” I asked as he passed me the two cups of coffee, one light as it had half-and-half in it, and the other black because Alex took nothing in his. He got back under the covers, careful not to spill either my cup or his, before turning slowly to look at me.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, taking his cup from me before passing me my glasses from where he’d hooked them over the collar of his shirt.

“Just tell me. Something’s obviously weird downstairs.”

The bedroom door opened then, and Cord walked in. He closed the door gently behind him in deference to Evan, who was still dead to the world.

“Okay,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee, looking up at him expectantly. “You tell me what’s up.”