“You won’t be alone. I’ll be gone for two minutes.” I brushed my thumb along her knuckles. “I promise, okay? I’m just going to grab some clothes for both of us, then I’ll be back. I’ll be just fine. The storm isn’t even really that bad yet.”
She swallowed hard but nodded. Knowing better than to waste any time, I spun around and strode across the room. The generator lights flickered as I climbed the stairs, my boots squelching with each step.
Upstairs, rain hammered against the windows in sheets, hail cracking against the glass like someone was throwing handfulsof marbles at them, but the house was holding up just fine. It’d been built to withstand much worse than this, but I’d taken her to the basement just to be safe.
When I reached my—our—bedroom, I grabbed two of my old cotton shirts and two pairs of sweats. I knew these would be huge on her, but it would also keep her warm. Then I snagged a couple towels from the linen closet and hustled back downstairs.
She looked up the second she heard me, tension draining from her shoulders like she’d been holding her breath the entire time. I set the clothes down and grinned, needing to put her at ease and assure her that I was fine.
“Told you I’d be two minutes.”
“You were gone for five.”
I gave her a smile, my eyebrows arching and my hands on my hips. “If I knew you were timing me, I would have run.”
She flashed me a tiny smile, but small as it was, I would take that over the fear from earlier. Striding across the room, I knelt in front of her, close enough to feel how cold she still was. “Let’s get you warm, sweetheart.”
Her breath caught at the endearment, her eyes flying down to mine, but she didn’t move away. I took one of the towels and wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing gently, then reached for the hem of her damp shirt.
“May I?” I asked.
She nodded and I peeled the wet fabric away from her skin, working hard to keep my eyes on hers instead of anywhere else. Her lips parted with a small inhale as the cold air hit her. Goosebumps rose across her collarbones. I worked fast, but gently, drying her arms, her back, and her stomach, every inch shaking from the chill.
Once she was in my clothes, I moved around the corner and changed into the dry set I’d brought for myself. Then I went back into the main room and stood in front of the TV, watchingthe storm move across the screen on the news. She drew my attention to her when she spoke again.
“I still can’t really get my fingers to work,” she whispered. My heart tripped over itself at the realization that she wasn’t holding up as well as I’d thought.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, immediately going over and taking each of her hands in mine, warming them between my palms. “You’re okay.”
Her eyes met mine, soft and trusting, and I felt the implications of that right in the center of my dang chest. I wasn’t sure I deserved for her to look at me that way, but I was going to do everything in my power to earn it.
She was finally starting to warm up, her skin pinking and her shoulders loosening, when another crack of thunder split the sky wide open. The basement vibrated with it and Charlotte flinched so hard she nearly knocked into me.
“Hey,” I said softly.
Her breathing was rapid, her gaze was glued to the floor, and her shoulders curled inward like she was trying to make herself smaller. The panic had hit her fast, like a wave rolling over her before she’d even realized it was coming.
“Charlotte.” I moved in front of her. “Look at me.”
She didn’t, so I slid my hands up to her face, holding her cheeks gently but firmly enough that she had no choice. Her skin was warm now, but her pulse was still fluttering under my thumbs.
“Breathe,” I said. “It’s just noise.”
She let out a shaky sound that barely qualified as a laugh. “It’s not just noise. The sirens, the hail, the wind. It feels dangerous.”
“It is, but not to us. Not right now.” I leaned in so our foreheads nearly touched. “If there was a real tornado threat,we’d know. I grew up with this shit. This is a decent storm, but it’s not gonna take us to Oz. You’re safe. I promise.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, wet, wide, and still too scared. I pulled back a little, my thumbs stroking across her cheekbones as I tried to fight a grin. “And quit getting worked up just to get out of being berated for stealing my damn horse.”
Her mouth fell open. “I didnotsteal your horse.”
“You absolutely stole my horse,” I said, leveling her with a look. “You took Hurricane Hustle out like you were riding off into the sunset alone with no plan, and then got stuck out in the middle of the worst storm we’ve had in months.”
Her jaw tightened. “I just needed a bit of space.”
“You could’ve gotten space without damn near giving me a heart attack.”
“Well, excuse me for wanting some room to think,” she snapped, color rising in her cheeks. “Besides, we’re married now. Doesn’t that make him my horse, too?”
