Page 37 of Floodgates

“Nolan,” I called over to him. “Please tell me the rest.”

He crossed quickly over to me, and when he sat down I immediately noticed how different he appeared, how gentle. I had never seen him early in the morning. Maybe that was what he looked like first thing, before he hardened up in the course of a day. Amazing to see his eyes so warm and unguarded, and coupled with being rumpled and sleep tousled, you could almost mistake him for human.

“Where did I leave off last night?”

“About Breckin being the father of Celia Hughes’s baby.”

“You must have been really out of it for you to be able to fall asleep without hearing everything,” Alex remarked, leaning across the bed to take hold of my shoulder. “And you must have been way doped up to let this asshole comfort you,” he finished, tipping his head toward Cord.

I didn’t have the strength to make Alex stop, so I let him hold on to me as my gaze stayed riveted on Cord’s face.

“He was in shock,” Cord explained to both of us. “But now you need to listen to me.”

I nodded.

“Celia Hughes was Breckin’s lover, but on closer investigation, so was Timothy Stanson. He knew Tim before you, Tracy,” Cord told me, his voice hoarse. “All three—you, Tim, and Celia—have been attacked by obviously the same person. Tim is dead, so there’s no reason to believe that the same is not planned for you and Celia.”

“Did you tell Dr. Hughes your theory?” Alex asked.

“I did. She regretted having placed any blame on Tracy.”

I took it all in even as I heard the rain start to pelt my window.

“I need you to not fall apart,” Cord said gently, walking around the bed to face me as I had turned from both him and my brother. He raised my chin with his hand to look me in the eye. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t fall apart,” I promised, and then I massaged the bridge of my nose before nearly rubbing my eyes raw. “Al, would you do me a humongous favor?”

“Anything, anything, just ask me.”

“Could you go home and get me some fresh clothes and clean underwear and my glasses. My contacts are killing me.”

“Of course,” he said gently, standing up. “I told Dad that you and I would be home tonight. I talked to your doctor, and he said he would release you later this afternoon.”

“Where is Dad?” I asked him, surprised my father had not yet been to see me.

“He was fishing in Manhattan Beach with Uncle Rudy. He’s on his way home now, though. I talked to him this morning.”

“Okay.”

“And Evan’s coming in at six, so I gotta go pick him up at the airport.”

I turned to look up at my brother. “What? Why?”

“Because somebody tried to kill his brother,” Alex said flatly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black leather biker jacket. “Dad called him. There was nothing I could do to keep him from flying out.”

“Fine, whatever,” I sighed. “I’ll go with you. I’ll call Tate—”

“Your doctor, Tate whatever?”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell him I need to be gone by five.”

Alex nodded and then promised he would be back soon.

“You have your key, right?” I asked him, stopping him at the door.

“I have your keys,” he told me, jingling them for my benefit. “I’ll be back.”

“Hey.”