Page 63 of Floodgates

Walking around the couch, I left the living room and went into the kitchen. Breckin was sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands, and didn’t look up at me when I came in. If it had been my house, the cup I was holding would have been history—I would have smashed it into a thousand pieces. As it was, I used every drop of self-control I had to place it gently in the sink. I turned and looked from my father to Beth to Joanna and back to my ex again. They had all heard—maybe not every word, but enough.

I looked over at Joanna. “I’m not mad at you, okay?”

Her eyes were huge as she gazed at me. “You’re not?”

“No, why would I be? You had no idea.” I sighed deeply, suddenly exhausted as I turned and passed my dad to go to the stairs. My brothers were sitting on them, both with coffee, also having heard it all.

Alex looked up at me as I started up, and Evan squeezed my hand before I could get by. Cord was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

“I am not going to fuckin’ Vermont with my boyfriend and his pregnant lover. Is that clear?”

“We’ll see,” he said evenly, looking at me hard.

“No, we won’t see,” I assured him. “I am so done with this whole thing.”

He nearly drilled his finger into my collarbone when he spoke. “You don’t get to be done until your stalker says you are. Do you get it? You are not in control here. You might be in the driver’s seat with this little domestic drama you’ve got going with your ex and his knocked-up dish on the side, but as far as the attempts on your life are concerned, you are not in control, and you are not the one calling the shots. Don’t delude yourself; you will do what I say.”

He poked me one last time for emphasis. I was sure I would have a bruise.

“Fuck you, Cord,” I retorted. “I’d rather get shot than have to listen to you.”

He was going to really launch into me, I could tell by the way he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, but I walked around him, went back into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. I sank down onto the bed and then buried myself under the covers and closed my eyes. I was almost asleep when I heard someone come in and then felt them flop down beside me.

“You okay?”

Evan. “Yeah,” I lied.

“You want the report?” he asked simply.

I threw off the covers and rolled over onto my back. “Okay.”

“Well, Breckin plans to sit in the kitchen until hell freezes over or you come down or whatever. Basically, he’s staying put. Cord needs to talk to you about Vermont, so he’s staying. Celia, Joanna, and Beth left. Alex is having words with Breckin, or trying to over Dad making him be quiet. It’s a lot of fun down there.”

“She’s pretty, huh?” I sighed heavily.

“Who?”

“Celia Hughes, of course. Who else?”

“I dunno. Joanna? Beth?”

“Oh,” I said, looking up at him. He was right, of course. We hadn’t actually discussed our father’s lady friend. We had not given one another our opinions. I was more than eager to change the subject. “I guess. You think Beth is pretty?”

“Elegant and distinguished. Pretty doesn’t really do it, does it?”

“No, no, you’re right. And Joanna?”

He squished up his face like he’d eaten a lemon. “Mousy, I think. She must take after her dad because she sure as shit doesn’t look a thing like her mom.”

“You wouldn’t date her?”

“She’s getting married.”

“No, I know, but you wouldn’t have if you’d have met her before?”

“I don’t date anybody. I just fuck,” he made clear.

“Charming.”