“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You don’t look fine,” he says, taking a step closer. “You look?—”
I step back, barely stopping myself from looking down at my arms to see just how flushed I am. Is my impending heat already visible? Please, God, no. “I’ve just been baking. It’s hot in here.”
He nods, but doesn’t look entirely convinced.
“Look,” I say, trying to sound reasonable despite the rising panic in my chest. “I rented this house for the week specifically to have privacy. To relax. Alone. This is really important to me.”
“It’s important to us too,” Malik says. “We haven’t had time off in eight months. We blocked out this entire week.”
“Well, I haven’t had a real vacation in over a year,” I counter.
“We’ll leave,” Dax says immediately. “We’re not sharing a house with—” He stops himself, jaw working like he’s biting back words.
“With what?” I ask dangerously.
“With a competitor,” he finishes, though I get the distinct impression that’s not what he was going to say. “This is awkward for everyone.”
“I agree.” I cross my arms again.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Cole gestures to the darkening sky, his eyes on Malik, “there’s a storm coming.”
As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance.
Malik is already on his phone again, scrolling rapidly. “There has to be something available. Another property, a hotel...”
Inside the house, the TV is still on from when I put it on for background ambiance. The meteorologist’s voice drifts through the open door, cheerful and dooming.
“—storm system has accelerated and is now expected to make landfall tonight around midnight. Residents in coastal areas should prepare for heavy rain, high winds, and possible flooding. This is a significant weather event, folks. If you’re planning to travel, you’ll want to reconsider those plans.”
“Midnight,” I repeat. My gaze darts to the clock on the wall. It’s seven now.
“The outer bands are already hitting the highway. Visibility is zero just ten miles south,” Jalen murmurs.
“Even if we leave now, we’d be driving straight into that visibility. Is it worth the risk?” Cole asks.
Malik’s jaw works. He’s still scrolling, but I can see the growing frustration in his expression.
“There has to be something,” he mutters.
“Nothing within two hundred miles,” Jalen says, looking at his own phone. “I’m checking hotels, rentals, even bed and breakfasts. Everything’s either booked or already closed for the storm.”
“So, what are you suggesting?” Dax asks, his voice dangerously quiet. “That we stay here? With her?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Jalen says calmly. “I’m stating facts. We can’t drive into a storm. We can’t find alternative accommodation. And we can’t leave her here alone with a major weather event coming.”
“I’ll be fine alone,” I say. “I planned to be alone. That was the entire point.”
“Not with a storm like this,” Malik says, finally looking up from his phone. “The forecast is saying possible evacuationorders for low-lying coastal areas. This house is right on the beach.”
I blink. “Evacuation orders? The weather report said this was just a rain system.”
“Weather changes,” Cole says. He’s not smiling anymore. “Storms accelerate. We should have checked the updated forecast before we left Sweetwater.”
“So should I,” I admit reluctantly.
We all stand there, the weight of the situation settling over us like the gathering storm clouds.
