Page 29 of Floodgates

“Yes,” a voice said behind me, and when I looked up to laugh with whomever it was, I only saw a mask.

I only had time to gasp before everything went black.

Chapter 4

WHO THE hell was that?

Jolting awake, I would have sat up if there weren’t hands there immediately to soothe and comfort me.

“Baby, you’re okay.”

But I wasn’t, couldn’t have been, because I was in the hospital. White walls, the cold, the smell of antiseptic, the bed I was in, everything let me know I was hurt. I had a tube in my arm as well, which was probably responsible for the lack of pain, which I knew, because I’d been hit, that I should have been in. The last time I’d been in the hospital, the feeling had been the same. Only really good drugs got administered through an IV.

Turning my head, I found Breckin, leaning down to wrap his arms around me. I grabbed hold of him hard, clinging, closing my eyes, and breathing him in.

“You’re all right,” he assured me, his voice a husky whisper against my ear. “I promise you’re okay. Everything’s fine.”

I nodded but couldn’t stop making a funny noise in the back of my throat. It was like when you’re crying hard and winding down, the sniffling part that usually won’t stop.

“I’m right here.”

But that wasn’t comforting, for some reason. I was still scared. I didn’t feel safe.

“You’re okay now, I’m here.”

He took a seat beside me on the bed and leaned me against him, trying, I knew, to give me comfort. It was really very kind. But when Alex came striding into the room with a Styrofoam cup, I felt much better.

“Christ, Tracy, you scared the fuckin’ shit outta me,” my brother griped as he set the cups down, came around the bed, and leaned down to gather me in his arms.

I pulled away from Breckin quickly, needing family comfort, and was surprised when that too didn’t take the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach away.

I hugged him as hard as I could, and he held on to my hand when he straightened up. Courtney and April rushed the bed then, and each took a turn squeezing my other hand. Ira came last, and patted my shoulder. Matt had apparently gone for badly flavored beverages from a vending machine just like my brother, as he too had a Styrofoam cup. When he and Eric crossed the room to me, I knew from their faces that whatever I looked like was bad.

“What?” I asked Eric, knowing the sportscaster would give me the straight scoop.

“Were you beat up?” he asked bluntly.

“I dunno,” I said, looking over at Breckin. “Was I beat up?”

“You were hit with something,” he told me, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “something heavy, like a bat or a club of some kind.”

I looked up at Alex. “You catch the guy?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t even fuckin’ there.” His tone gave him away.

“And you couldn’t have prevented it if you were,” I said frankly, wanting to assuage the guilt I heard in his voice. “So stop beating yourself up. Please.”

“This isn’t funny, you know.”

I smiled suddenly. “Who said it was funny?”

Everyone gasped but Alex and Matt, the rest, even Breckin, not having been around long enough to know that when faced with a crisis, I laughed.

“Who would want to hit me with a bat?” I asked Alex, chuckling because I was imagining someone whacking me with a fruit bat. I was a little loopy.

“I dunno, maybe I’ll go ask your scary-ass boss?” he yelled.

“I knew it,” Breckin snarled at me. “You’re quitting. Today. Now.”