ELEVEN
Jack
I’d liketo say I woke to the thunder and rain pelting my cabin window at two thirty this morning, but unfortunately, that was not the case.
No, I was too busy lying awake thinking about her, feeling frustrated and annoyed.
I hated that this seemed like my new normal, but even before she showed up demanding her property back, I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head.
I opened my ears to the sounds around me, hoping for a distraction. I usually liked the sounds of a storm. It was beautiful, the way the sky opened up and unleashed the smell of petrichor and damp trees. I lived in the right place to experience the joys of nature, as cheesy as that sounded.
But that wasn’t enough of a distraction. No, I was too confused about the way I’d lost myself this past month, and I could only blame her. What was the word for when you couldn’t stop thinking of your enemy’s smile and the way her hair curved around her ear? Discombobulation?
All I knew was that I wanted her here in my bed with me.
I rolled over, lifting my hair off the pillow so it didn’t stick to my neck if I passed out. Then I heard it. A huge crack, a crash, and ten seconds of silence.
I jumped out of bed, hoping it was my imagination and the worst hadn’t just happened. I yanked my hiking boots on, grabbed my raincoat, and burst through the door.
I took in my surroundings, noting that my cabin looked normal, and my pod was dead asleep. I didn’t know what I was looking for or what direction to go in, but on instinct, I headed toward her pod.
The trail was empty, which was a good sign. Maybe there wasn’t some disaster awaiting me. Maybe I’d been in that strange place between sleep and consciousness. I batted at the hair that stuck to my soaked face and realized I hadn’t even pulled my hood up. Well, it was too late now.
The second I made it to the Andromeda pod, I lifted my head and caught sight of the cabin, slipping in a puddle and nearly losing my footing before righting myself.
I didn’t have time to stop and think because I was running toward her, mud be damned.
Every cabin in Andromeda was fine. Every one but hers.
The collapsed fir tree had destroyed the roof. But the rain was coming down so hard, I could barely see the rest of the damage. I expected a sound to come from her side of the forest. A scream. A yell. Anything to tell me she was alive. The silence took the wind right out of me.
Two doors opened in my periphery, but I was too busy to ask for help, rushing to the front door. I tried to open the thing, but it didn’t budge. And the two people who attempted to help weren’t achieving anything either.
I didn’t say anything as more people joined, their voices blurred. My throat was filled with cotton balls, my eyes stinging.
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.
Then I remembered that Nat’s bed was on the other side of the cabin. I made my way, slipping down the tiny embankment, and reached the back side.
“Natalie!” I shouted, but it could have been a whisper in the cacophony of this wind and rain. I climbed over branches, losing my footing on needles and not caring. Why wasn’t she making a sound? “Nat?”
A branch from the downed tree cracked and shifted under my weight, but the lack of noise coming from her window had my stomach churning. Then it came: the best sound I’d ever heard.
“Over here!”
But those words weren’t enough. I needed to see her, feel her, and know that she was okay.
I took a tentative step on a large branch, grateful that it held as I made it to her window. It had shattered, but at least it wasn’t blocked.
“Jack,” she cried, and my heart broke.
“Natalie!” I yelled louder. “I’m here. Don’t move, princess. I’m going to get you.”
“The window won’t open. There’s shattered glass everywhere.”
She was right, the tree had bent the frame so it dipped. There was no opening it. I took off my jacket and used one side to knock the remaining shards out of the way before placing it on the frame.
“Can you get out?” I tried, hoping I didn’t need to go get a ladder. Or a chainsaw, for god’s sake.
