Page 64 of When We Are Complete

“Terrifying,” I admit, our foreheads touching, breath mingling.

I shift on the sofa, the weight of her head on my chest. The rise and fall of our breaths sync, while my hand trails up and down her arm, slow and deliberate.

And in that moment, with her in my arms, I can be just a man, flawed and yearning, who’s allowed to need someone too.

Chapter 35

Kelly

It’s late afternoon,and I’m typing out an email at work, my planner open beside me, pages full of checklists and deadlines. Everything’s on track. The festival is just a couple of weeks away, and everything is falling into place. Jake and I have never been better. I’m happy. Content.

I’ve got this.

That’s when I hear the knock on my office door. Looking up, the mayor is standing there, her expression concerned.

“Mayor. Is everything okay?” But it’s clear from her expression thatsomething’snot okay.

She steps into my office, closing the door behind her. “Kelly, I just got word. It looks like those winter storms we’ve been keeping an eye on will hit in the next couple of days.”

My heart skips a beat, but I keep my expression calm. “How bad are we talking?”

She sighs, rubbing her temples. “We’re not sure yet, but it could get tough. We’re expecting heavy snow and wind. It’s toosoon to tell how severe it’ll be, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’ve already let the Fire Chief know, as well as the other emergency services. But I wanted to warn you that this might derail things with the festival.”

I blink, trying to absorb her words. “What happens to the festival if these storms hit and they’re bad?”

“I don’t know,” she says gently. “We might need to reassess some of our plans. Scale back. I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything more, but right now, it’s too early to say. Stay positive, though. The forecast could change. These storms could shift or end up being less serious than expected.”

I grip my pen tightly. “Of course. That makes sense. We’ll just keep an eye on things.”

She gives me a reassuring look, but I can see the seriousness of the situation in her eyes. “That’s all we can do for now. We’ll plan for the worst but hope for the best. You’ve been doing great work. Just stay focused.”

“Do we need to move the installations?” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know that’s not possible. They were built in parts and moved to site because they were too big to construct in the workshop.

The mayor sighs, glancing out the window at the cloudy sky. “Unfortunately, moving the installations just isn’t feasible at this point. That’s not what you want to hear, but they’re too large, and even if we tried to disassemble them now, we can’t waste the manpower on that when there are other things we need to do to prepare. They’re going to have to weather the storm, just like the rest of us.”

I try to stay calm. “Is there anything we can do to protect them at all? I mean, tarps, reinforcements?”

“We can do that, sure. But with these kinds of storms, there’s only so much you can protect. The winds and snowfall could be intense. The bottom line is, we’re at the mercy of the weather.”

I swallow, forcing down the rising sense of dread. “So, we’re really just hoping it won’t be as bad as they say?”

The mayor places a comforting hand on my arm. “Exactly. The festival is important, but we may need to adapt. At this stage, just keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll figure things out once the storms pass.”

I force myself to smile back. “Thanks, I will.”

The moment she’s gone, I lean back in my chair, staring blankly at my planner. The ink on the page seems to blur, my mind spinning with what-ifs. But I can’t panic.

It’ll be fine. I’ve got everything under control. Ihaveto.

There’s that familiar, restless itch under my skin. I reach for my pens, lining them up in groups of two in perfect order on my desk—black and blue, red and green, black and blue again. There’s a spare black pen with no matching blue, and I slide it into my desk drawer, out of sight, tapping the handle once it’s closed, repeating the movement and counting slowly to nine.

My thoughts are still racing, and I run my hands along the edges of my planner, straightening it again and again until it’s perfectly aligned with the corner of my desk. Scanning the pages, I count the steps I’ll need to complete everything before the festival, numbering them as if order can somehow hold off the storm.

What I really need is to get out and clear my head before I go to Jake’s place for dinner tonight. The last thing I need is to spiral into worry before anything’s even happened—maybe the storm will miss Harbor’s Edge completely? And with that thought firmly in place, I grab my coat and head for the door, telling myself it’s all going to be fine.

I step outside, tugging on my gloves and pulling my hat down over my ears. The cold hits me instantly, sharp and unforgiving, seeping into my bones. The world around me is cast in muted grays, with gritty piles of snow lining the sidewalk. I glance up atthe heavy sky, thick with low-hanging clouds, and a fresh wave of anxiety settles in my chest.

My breath forms tiny clouds as I unlock my bike, glancing in the direction of my old neighborhood. It’s been a week or so since I took this route home, ever since Mrs. Fraser overheard me, but today I need to talk to Mom.

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