Page 8 of The Trauma Response
“Yeah, it wasn’t really my style, but I’m looking at some others soon,” he says, waving off the question. He’s too interested in discovering how Thor crashed and burned to change the subject, probably because Thor eggs him along with winks and sly grins, but since Des’ repeated glances my way mean he wants to change the subject, I dig deeper into a different one and hope for the best.
“You’re filthy rich, my friend. Why not grab it and give it a chance?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well, I have a family to think about, and setting an example of fiscal responsibility is part of that.” He’s just about to rag on Thor again when a light brightens in his eyes. “Hey, what ever happened to your friend? The one you rescued from the accident a few months ago?”
Drat. Now the conversation is centered around me. I lean back in the booth and take a bite of bread if only to give myself a second to come up with a line that will shut down further discussion. “She and her brother came by the station about a month ago, we had lunch, said we’d keep in touch, but I guess we’ve just been too busy. Haven’t heard from either of them.” I swallow and take another bite.
Thor grunts and points at me. “See, that right there is whyyounever get any dates. You don’t know how to flirt, and you talk with food in your mouth.” I throw my bread at him. “And you’re childish, too.” Thor eats the rest of my bread.
“I know how to flirt, thank you.”
“Cracking jokes all the time isnotthe same as flirting.” Thor raises an eyebrow and taunts me.
Holt ignores it all and says, “Tell us about her. All you said was that she was a childhood friend, you turned bright red, then changed the subject. Did you two date?”
“No, we did not. It wasn’t like that. Her brother and I were best friends through middle and high school, and she was kind of always there. We all drifted apart during college. It happens.”
“Didn’t you tell me she saved your life once?” Des asks so quietly, I’m not sure how the other guys hear him. I give him a sideways glance. He’ll speak up when he has something to say that will ensure the attention stays focused on someone else. Unfortunately, it almost always lands on me, the jokester who likes to make everyone laugh and turn everyone’s bad days upside right.
“She saved your life?” Holt asks, his eyebrows high with anticipation.
“Sheprobably has a name,” Thor says, poking at me. “Want to share it?”
“Yes,she has a name. Tallulah Whitmore, but she goes by Tulip. I mean, she used to. It’s what most people called her, but Iusually called her Whits or just beautiful.” The moment I admit I used to call my secret crushbeautiful,my whole body breaks into a sweat. I’ve gone and done it now. The guys will never let me live it down.
Fortunately, Chantelle and her figure skater boyfriend, Jude, enter and distract them.
“Hey, what are you two doing here?” Christian asks. They had declined the dinner invitation due to a prior engagement, and since Chantelle wasn’t coming, Christian’s wife decided to stay far away from her husband’s slightly rowdy and annoying friends.
“Got done early and thought we’d join you,” Jude says, then leans in to kiss his fiancée’s cheek.
“You’re just in time to hear how Cai’s childhood friend, who may or may not be an old flame, saved his life,” Thor says. Of course, the two pull up a chair and offer their attention. I hate being the center of it, but at least it’s a quick story.
Once again, I’m blessed with a moment to think before weaving my way out of this mess. Our usual waitress stops by the table to refill drinks, and as usual, Des iscompletelyoblivious to her staring at him. She’s tried to get his attention for months, but the guy doesn’t even notice. She clears her throat and reaches over him to get his glass, but his eyes are fixed, staring out the window.
Chantelle nudges me. I sigh and resign to the fact that I am the official topic of conversation now. “There’s not much to tell about it. Her brother dared me to do a double backflip off the high dive platform at a crummy community pool. I slipped and cracked my noggin on the board, fell into the pool and tried to drown. My idiot best friend forgot how to perform even the most basic of lifesaving functions. Whits saw it all happen from the clubhouse window, ran out, saved my life, and that’s it.”
Chantelle blinks a few times and looks around at the guys before her gaze settles on Jude’s. He snickers. “Seems like you left some parts out,” he says.
“Nope, now can we change the subject?” These guys can make a mountain out of a molehill when they team up, and I’m not going to give them any more fuel for the fire.
“Oh, come on,” Chantelle prods.
“Look, just because you write romance novels does not mean I have to give you a storyline.” I can’t stop my cheeks from flaming but try to distract them by reaching for another piece of garlic bread.
She narrows her eyes, but lets it drop. She’s going to ask me for details later, and one day, I’m going to read about my life in a book.
The waitress brings our food and, mercifully, the conversation naturally shifts toward other things, like work and plans for next week, working out when we can ride again, and talks about Chantelle’s next big book signing.
By the time we leave Brokedown and head out to our bikes, we’re the last ones in the tavern. It’s not uncommon for us to shut the place down, but tonight I’m not close to tired. I know I should head home to rest while I can—being on call means I might have to go back to work if they get busy—but my mind is running a hundred miles an hour. I’m reminded that’s a bad idea while manning a mini rocket when Thor’s deep voice booms through our comms.
“Uh, Cai, check your mirrors, buddy,” he says.
Rather than check my mirrors, I glance at my speed. Oh, that’s a nope speed. I ease back off the throttle and slow down, waiting for the guys to catch up. Our synced mics are nice, case in point, Thor reminding me I’m not made of steel and speeding down the interstate is a big no, but other times I need to be in my own head. Probably not while on the bike though.
“You good?” Christian asks. “It’s not like you to be a speed demon.”
“I’m good.” My curt reply probably doesn’t convince anyone, but they remain silent. I have no doubt they don’t believe me, but I’m honestly not sure what’s going on either. I can’t stop thinking about Whits, which isn’t a surprise. She’s as beautiful as she’s always been, but my dormant feelings about her surging back to life? Yeah, didn’t see that coming. I don’t know her anymore, and it would be foolish to let that old crush flame back to life…no puns intended.
