Page 34 of Floodgates

“So it was a little different, because I got hit as the lights went out. I had no presence of mind to keep.”

“You never have any presence of mind,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Really?” I said flatly.

“Lest we forget how well I know you,” he countered, grinning at me.

He knew events; he didn’t know me.

Like there had been the time he and Alex had driven up to my apartment only to find me in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms on the front stoop, freezing, because I had locked myself out, and Matt wasn’t home, and crazy Mrs. Fishman from next door wouldn’t buzz me back in. Or the time I nearly fell off the pier at Fisherman’s Wharf because I wouldn’t let him help me carry the boxes of cracked crab I had been asked to pick up for my friend Denise’s rehearsal dinner. Or the time Alex had sent me to pick Cord up from the airport, and I’d forgotten where my car was parked… for three hours. It always seemed like, sadly, he caught me at my worst.

“Moving on,” I said, hoping my scowl showed clearly on my face and in my voice. “Are you allowed to tell me who Celia Hughes is? Or are you just trying to torture me.”

He looked past me again to the door. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this stuff. I thought Alex would.”

“It’s almost five in the morning.” I was incredulous. “I hope he’s asleep. I don’t even know why you’re awake.”

“Just am.”

“Coming home from a booty call?”

“Shut up,” he groused.

“Why Alex?” I said instead of escalating the discussion to a fight.

“Because I told him a little while ago, and he said he would be here.”

“Okay, now I’m getting a little freaked out. Do you know where Breckin is? Was he here when you came in?”

He flicked his eyes to mine then, and I was swallowed up in his gaze. Caught off guard, I stared back and realized, as I always did, how beautiful his eyes were.

“Cord?” I asked as he moved closer to me, until our faces were inches apart.

“I called Alex last night to––” He checked his watch. “––yeah, last night, because I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to know if he wanted to be with you when I did.”

“Last night when?”

“Like, just three hours ago.”

“Jesus, Cord, are you sleeping at all?”

“Who cares, just…. I needed to talk to you, so that’s why I’m here.”

“So talk.”

“We could wait a little,” he stalled.

“You said you already told Alex, now tell me.”

He inhaled sharply. “I was following up on a lead in the Stanson case that took me to Celia Hughes.”

After a minute I realized that he wasn’t going to clarify. “English, Nolan. Please.”

“Well, you know I work Homicide now, right?”

“What do you mean now? You transferred to Homicide two and a half years ago, right before I met Breckin.”

After a moment he nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”