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Okay, so yes. I did take a glance or two. Give me a break. I’m in a highly stressful situation here.
“Go back to bed,” I tell her, shooting the words behind me. “I’ve got it.” My arms are already starting to burn from this impossible job of directing water out of the room and onto the front porch. This may or may not be causing me more problems in the long run, but I’m not sure what else to do at this point.
And there’s nothing like an emergency like this to highlight that I’m injured. I’m lacking. Already, my knee’s aching and I feel unequal to this task.
A click of surprise comes from Oakley. “Yeah. Okay.” She’s not going back upstairs. Not at all.
I look over at her to see she’s stopped in the water, her hip out to one side, her arms folded over her chest.
“I mean it, Oakley. There’s nothing you can do right now except get wet.”
Her gaze darts around her feet, but instead of heading back up the stairs like I told her to, she turns away from me and hops with high knees through the water to the kitchen, making big splashes as she goes. Not the most effective way to move through water.
“Where did you find that broom?” she shouts.
“There is only one like this. Go back to bed.” I steady my feet. This pool of water is making my carpet slick.
No answer, but I can tell from the splashing noises she’s making that she’s not listening to me. Soon, she’s by my side with a smaller kitchen broom. “What’s your problem, Alec? I’m here to help. Let me!” She shoves her broom through the water with a vengeance. It’s not effective, splashing the water more up than out.
“It’s not doing much, is it?” I ask. There’s just something about an emergency situation that has me thinking with the reptilian part of my brain.
She growls and flings a forearm across her forehead to move away the tufts of hair that keep falling from the ponytail. Lots of falling hair. Lots of adrenaline in the air. “I’m doing the best I can,” she says.
“I’m not judging your skills. It’s the broom’s fault,” I toss back.
“Well, it’s being pushed past the measure of its creation.” She grunts as she makes another push, causing the water around the small broom head to swish sideways instead of out the door.
“I can’t even watch this anymore.” I grab her broom handle mid-push. “This isn’t effective.”
“Then give me yours for a while,” she bites back.
I scratch the crown of my head, taking a steadying breath. “I’ve called a restoration company and they’re on their way. This is being handled. It’s okay.”
Her jaw tightens. She eyes me carefully, accusingly. “Your broom’s not great, either. At least with this thing—” she tries to lift the kitchen broom in the air, but I’ve still got a hold of it. “I’m doing something. I’m not going to sit up in my tower high above you and twiddle my thumbs.”
“It’s dangerous down here,” I counter. “You could slip and fall.”
She harrumphs. “So could you. And it’s only a few inches deep.”
“You are so stubborn,” I let go of the broom. “Suit yourself. But I’m not going to catch you when you fall.”
She chews on her bottom lip as she considers me. I don’t want to be like this, but this situation is bringing every flaw I have to the surface.
I feel the wooden broom handle connect with my chest as she presses it to me. “Fine,” she says, her voice measured.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the kick back from her hand letting go of the handle and I veer back, my whole body flinging backward as one foot squeaks and slides over the other.
“Whoa!” I stumble and reach for her arm. Instead, my hand grabs hold of her Metallica t-shirt. We both go down, two bodies in the water.
Sploosh.
It feels deeper than it seemed before, different when one’s body is actually lying in it.
Oakley’s managed to land on top of me, and she lets out a gasp as she hits the surface. It’s notthatmuch water. But it’s the middle of the night. Even though it’s summer, this is Colorado, so it’s cool out.
“Oakley,” I breathe, shifting my weight so I can somehow hold her up, trying to protect her from the water. “My bad. I’m so sorry.”
She eases herself up on one hand, shaking her head. Her face has gone red, spitting mad. She’s breathing heavily. “What about your knee?”
