Page 60 of Not Until I Found You

I hurry and grab my cell phone, my pulse pounding in my ears as I search for my dad’s house number. There’s no service where he lives, and he doesn’t have the internet hooked up. The only way to get a hold of them right now is Dad’s landline phone.

My fingers fumble as I click the number, pressing the speaker tightly against my ear. It rings once, twice, three times, until there’s a beat of static.

“Ashton?” my voice comes out shaky.

“Hey, Maxie,” Ashton exhales in relief, and I do the same. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m over at Zane’s. We’re in his basement. What about y’all?” I stop pacing, using my shoulder to press the phone to my ear so I can squeeze my hands together, hoping the pressure will help me hold my worry at bay.

“We’re okay,” Ashton’s voice comes in through the speaker, breaking up a bit. “We’re headed to the storm shelter.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Thank goodness.”

I sink onto the couch and wrap myself in one of the blankets Zane placed on the coffee table. He takes a seat next to me, close enough that our knees almost touch, and then he studies my face.

“They’re okay,” I say and click on the speaker phone.

Relief softens his expression before he calls toward the phone, “Y’all be careful.”

“We will. Thanks for keeping her safe for us,” Ashton replies.

“Of course,” Zane replies. “Keep us updated.”

“Will do.”

The line clicks, and I place my phone onto the coffee table. Thunder rumbles from above, causing Zane to straighten immediately. His shoulders tense, and his jaw tightens as his thumb begins to tap, tap, tap against his leg.

The subtle signs of Zane’s discomfort become more noticeable as time stretches between us. The way his knee bounces, how his gaze keeps drifting toward the ceiling. For someone who feels so solid and dependable, storms must rattle Zane more than he lets on.

Another low rumble rolls overhead, and his fingers curl briefly into a fist before he exhales and loosens his grip. I shift closer, the blanket around me brushing his arm. Sven places his head onto Zane’s lap.

“Do you have any games down here?” I ask.

He blinks, my question helping to pull him out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I think so.”

Leaning forward, he reaches for the coffee table and slides open a shallow drawer. Inside is a small collection of card games. There’s Phase Ten, Skip-Bo, and Uno.

My lips curve as I suggest, “Uno?”

“You want to play a round?”

“Absolutely. It’s a card game I’m actually good at.”

We turn to face each other, and I reach for the deck, the cards slightly bent from years of use, and I start shuffling them. Zane’s watching me as I do, his knee finally stilling as I deal the cards and put the discard pile between us on the cushions.

“Don’t worry.” I grin. “I promise not to destroy you too badly.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I lay down a yellow four card. “Tell me something no one else knows about you.”

His hazel eyes look at me playfully, but they don’t hold their normal mischief. “Like what?”

I shrug. “Anything you can think of and want to share.”

“You go first.”

I snort. “I need a second to think of mine. Plus, I asked you first.”