He reaches over and takes my hand. The sun drops below the water, and the sky goes dark. His thumb rubs against my fingers, and my body relaxes.
No decisions about us and our future will be made until August 3. That gives us twenty days, and so much can change in that time.
I let him comfort me, knowing we’ll ride this storm together.
chapter twenty-five
Carter
The power goes out just after midnight, and it grows quiet, other than the wind and sea. The rain keeps coming, hitting hard for half an hour, then pulling back like the storm is knocking before it enters.
We tried the generator twice. I pulled on it for ten minutes as Wendy held the flashlight. The thing puttered and coughed, then died again.
“It’s okay. We should probably go back inside.” She grabs my arm. “You tried.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, following her up the stairs.
We’re soaked from head to toe.
The lantern on the counter lights the lobby, and there are several candles lit in the living room and kitchen. We’re staying on the bottom floor because of high winds.
“Now what do we do?” she asks, smiling. “Want to start drinking?”
I smile. “Shouldn’t we be in our right mind in case shit goes down?”
“They call them hurrications for a reason.” Wendy moves to the kitchen.
I hear a cabinet door open and close, and then she returns with a bottle of Fireball. I look at the label and back at her.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“Oh, come on. It only sucks at the beginning.”
“Sounds like somefamous last wordsshit to me.”
Wendy unscrews the top and takes a long pull from the bottle. She offers me some, and I take it.
“This is peer pressure.”
“No,” she says, removing her wet shirt and shorts, standing in her bra and panties. “This is.”
I chug two big swigs and shake my head because it’s fucking awful. I set the bottle on the coffee table, and she walks toward me, removing the wet clothes from my body.
We’re standing in our underwear in the middle of the lobby.
“And what happens if your grandmother decides to come here?”
“It’s a risk worth taking. Plus it’s hot without the central air.”
The house shakes like it agrees. The storm is still forty miles offshore, and the joints in the beams groan with every strong gust.
“The building was reinforced,” Wendy encourages.
“When?” I ask.
“Ten years ago.”
“Just tell me when you think I should be worried.”
