“No.” His answer is resolute. Beau studies me a little longer. I’m unsure of his thought process, but it led him to the decision to trust me—for now, at least.
With a sigh, he retrieves his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and gives it to me.
“Thank you.”
My fingers fly over the screen as I pull up my email and login. Ignoring the sales emails from a variety of stores, I find my dad’s email. I scribble the number on the Post-it I’d thrown at Beau earlier and call my dad after typing in a code to make Beau’s number anonymous.
“Ehlo?” Jerrod Fontanne grumbles into the phone. I’m both happy to hear his voice and broken up about the sadness and worry lingering underneath.
“Dad!” I sniffle. “I’m okay!”
“Lestie? Baby, what happened?”
“Long story, Dad. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Just know I’m safe and have somewhere to stay during the storm. You and Mom know the drill.”
“So, I haven’t heard from you?”
“No. I need to get through the storm; then, I’ll let them know I’m alive.”
“I understand, baby girl.” My dad pauses to choke back his emotions. Beau continues to pretend not to listen to my call as he meal-preps. “I’m so happy you’re alive; your mother will be so relieved.”
I wiped away a few tears. “Me too, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I wipe away a few more tears. The reality of the last night hits home harder than it had since I’ve been on dry land.
I almost died.
Attempted murder.
Now is not the time to break down; I need a plan. I bow my head, prepared to do the breathing exercises I’ve learned if I feel like I’m about to panic when I’m wrapped up into Beau’s strong arms. He presses my head against his chest as a few of my sobs shake my body. There were so many ways this could have gone wrong; I could have frozen to death, been attacked by a sea creature, or not been able to escape my car.
Worse, if Beau was anyone else or hadn’t been outside, I could have been left to fend for myself in a hurricane wearing nothing but my underwear. What if I really would have been kidnapped, raped, or killed when I surfaced?
“I know,” he cooed. “It’s okay. You’re fine now.”
But, I’m not…
I nod anyway. His heart is beating at a calm and steady pace against my ear as I breathe in his scent. The heat of Beau’s body starts to calm me. His warm hand sliding up and down my back begins to soothe me. My heart returns to its normal rhythm. I release a cleansing breath and wiggle out of his embrace.
“I’m good.”
“You’re not.”
I hate how he’s able to read me so soon.
“I am,” I insist in a stronger voice. I head to the sink and wash my hands. “What sandwiches do you want me to make.”
“I got it,” Beau says softly. “You can go relax on the couch, and I’ll bring you some tea.”
It sounds like a wonderful idea: I am tired, but I cannot let him pamper me in any way, though.
“No. I’m fine. Let me help.”
We prep in silence, making sandwiches and cold items, then packing up the refrigerator. Beau explained that he had several huge coolers that could keep ice frozen for days. He plans to leave food in the refrigerator as long as possible then move it to the coolers if necessary. He has fresh fruit in different stages of ripeness and some premade meals.
The wind is howling, and the rain is beating against his house by the time we move into checking all the batteries and making sure we have all the candles and matches in a place that is easy to access in the dark just in case his backup generator doesn’t kick in for any reason.
