Rebecca and Remy look grimly at each other.
“Sure,” Rebecca says, but her voice is hollow.
I sense she’s holding back something.
“You can’t sleep here tonight,” Remy says, already moving toward the door.
Rebecca pulls out her phone and calls Ryder. I hear his voice on the other end, muffled but concerned.
“Yeah, there’s damage,” Rebecca says. “Roof, windows, siding. The power’s out… No, she’s good, everything’s fine… Okay, I’ll tell her… Will do.”
She lowers the phone. “Ryder says you’re welcome to stay at the farmhouse.”
“Yeah, thank you…” I blush. “Won’t it be a problem with Rhys sleeping over?”
“Not now that you have a reason.” Rebecca smirks and squeezes me into a side-hug. “Happy you’re joining the family, by the way. I couldn’t have hoped for anyone better for Ryder.”
My cheeks heat up. “I—well, it’s early days…”
Rebecca nods. “Got it, I’ll wait a few months before I pick my maid of honor dress.” She gives me a light spank. “Go pack an overnight bag; I’ll go take pictures of the damage for Ryder.”
Rebecca is already lifting her phone, snapping photos of the torn roof and broken windows. The bleak expression back on her face.
“I’ll cover the hole in the roof with the tarp,” Remy says.
I nod and head to the bedroom to pack, unable to shake the feeling that Remy and Rebecca are trying not to panic in front of me.
That unease settles deeper when, twenty minutes later, we’re sandwiched again in Ryder’s truck, the atmosphere wound tighter than on the return from Osage Beach.
I glance in the rearview mirror at Rebecca in the back seat. Her face is illuminated by her phone screen as she scrolls through the photos she took. Even in the dim light, the tension in her jaw is clear, worry creasing her forehead.
“The insurance will handle everything, right?” I ask.
Remy’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t answer.
Rebecca looks up from her phone. “Of course.” She sounds unconvinced. “We’ll figure it out.”
The pit of dread in my stomach deepens. This isn’t the reaction of people who feel confident about their coverage.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, looking between them.
Remy sighs. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Rebecca leans forward between the seats. “We’re just… stretched thin right now. The renovations cost more than we budgeted. The mortgage payments are tight. If we can’t rent out the cottages for the rest of the summer while we make repairs…” She trails off, but I can fill in the blanks.
“But the bank will give you an extension until the insurance kicks in, no?” I press.
“Either way, we’ll manage,” Remy says in a tone that suggests the discussion is over. “We always do.”
But the worry doesn’t leave Rebecca’s face as she sits back.
I stare out the window at the passing trees, their branches bent and broken from the storm. The Evanses are good people. They work hard for everything they have. And now their livelihood might be in jeopardy because of tornado damage they can’t afford. They don’t deserve this.
The unfairness of it makes my stomach turn over like the inside of a rock tumbler.
When we pull up to the farmhouse, it looks even more like shelter. A solid place to be safe, untouched by the chaos that tore through the cottages less than a mile away. I know it’s an illusion. That a tornado’s path is random. But seeing my home half destroyed has left me shaken. If nothing else, I’m glad only material things got damaged. Those can be rebuilt.
