Page 49 of Floodgates

“That was my plan,” I snapped at him.

“I got off at six, so I came by to check on you,” Cord answered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” I said, lying back down. When I turned my head to the right, I realized football was on the TV, and I got confused. “Evan,” I called over to him.

“What?”

“Is it Monday already?”

“No, it’s still Sunday.”

“And it’s night, right?”

“It is,” he confirmed, “why?”

“Why the hell am I looking at Green Bay and”—I squinted at the screen, still bleary with sleep—“Chicago, then?”

“It’s called Sunday Night Football, dear; we do have something called night games in this country, ya know. Electricity for stadium lighting is an actual thing.”

“Dad,” I yelled.

“Yes, Tracy?” he called from the kitchen, which was just beyond the table where they were playing cards.

“I’m going to tell your son to go to hell now, okay?” I asked cheerfully.

“Okay,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Go to hell, Evan.” I told him, rolling over on my right side to watch the game. The screen was suddenly obstructed, though, as Cord came and took a seat on the coffee table, completely blocking my view of Aaron Rodgers.

“How ya feeling?”

“Like shit,” I mumbled. “I’m sore all over. I’m such a damn pansy, and I always thought of myself as tough.”

“When were you ever tough?”

I looked up at him to see if he was kidding. Hard to tell from his tone. But his smile was warm and his eyes glowed. Definitely giving me crap, and the normalcy of the interaction was good. “Hey, thanks again for being there last night. I know it couldn’t have been any fun for you, but you stayed, and I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you sure got cozy fast,” he said, reaching out to push my glasses up on my nose.

“What does that mean?” I asked defensively, annoyed. He always said something or did something that pissed me off, some stupid remark that got under my skin because of how he said it.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

I waited, because he wasn’t done.

“But I guess you’re all over Breckin Alcott, huh?”

“Come again?”

“I mean, the way you wrapped yourself around me, it was like we were sharing skin.”

“You’re complaining?” I said indignantly, propping myself up on my right elbow to look at him. “I can’t believe you’re complaining after I just thanked you. God, you’re an ass.”

His wicked grin made the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle. “No, I’m not complaining. I just think that if I were your man I would have a problem with how you were lying with me.”