Page 17 of Against the Wind

My hands tightened on the box I was carrying. The timeline in my head shifted—three hours had seemed like plenty when we started. Now the darkening sky and strengthening winds told a different story.

I should stay here. The community center needed every available hand, and I had my orders. But my mind kept circling back to our last conversation, Gabi’s face when I’d told her why I was really here. The way she’d disappeared into her work without another word.

“LaRue!” McNamara’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Need those supplies over here.”

I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, even as part of my brain calculated how long it would take to reach the clinic. How much time we had before the roads became impassable. Whether I had any right to go after her at all.

The wind howled against the building’s metal roof, and the emergency lights flickered once, twice. A warning of things to come.

The radio at my hip crackled. “LaRue, come in.”

“Go ahead.” I pressed the talk button, shifting another box of supplies onto the counter.

“It’s Rawlings. Need you at the marina ASAP. Got multiple vessels breaking loose from their moorings.”

Damn it. I glanced at the community center’s entrance, still hoping Gabi might appear. The past hour had crawled by with no sign of her.

“Copy that. On my way.”

Tank clapped me on the shoulder. “I got this covered. Go.”

I jogged through the strengthening wind toward the loaner truck from the fire department. The sky had turned an ugly shade of green-black, and the air felt thick enough to chew. My hands clenched the steering wheel as I navigated the nearly empty streets.

The clinic’s lights glowed in the growing darkness as I passed. A few cars still sat in the parking lot, but I couldn’t see past the foliage to the employee lot at the back to check for Gabi’s. I fought the urge to pull over, just to make sure she was there. People’s lives and livelihoods were at stake at the marina. I couldn’t justify a detour for personal reasons. Besides, where else would she be? She’d said yesterday she intended to ride out the storm at the clinic.

The radio squawked again. “LaRue, what’s your ETA?”

“Two minutes out.” I pressed the accelerator, leaving the clinic behind. The wind buffeted my truck, and debris skittered across the road. Palm fronds whipped through the air like missiles.

I had to trust she knew what she was doing. That she had an evacuation plan if everything went south. That someone else was looking out for her.

But as I turned toward the marina, all I could think about was how I’d failed to look out for her before. How I’d let my career pull me away without even discussing it with her. And now here I was again, driving in the opposite direction, when every instinct screamed at me to turn around.

ELEVEN

GABI

“Hey Hatterwick, Sam Lewis here, broadcasting live on WHAT as we start to feel the first effects of Hurricane Hannah. The storm’s massive outer bands are reaching us now, bringing driving rain, powerful wind gusts, and rising seas. I hope everyone has finished preparations and reached safe shelter.”

“Working on it,” I muttered.

In my haste to get out the door this morning before Caroline could attempt an interrogation, I’d forgotten my bag. The clinic itself was ready, but I didn’t have my personal supplies, so as soon as I’d gotten the last patient on their way, I’d hustled back across the island to the house to grab my bag, along with some additional supplies to see me through my long night at the clinic. I spent far too long on that, cursing myself for my lack of forethought when the rain kicked up in earnest as I was loading my car. But I’d been pitifully grateful Caroline and the kids were already at her in-laws’ because I was already too damned tired to hide my emotional turmoil from her. Considering I hadn’t actually ever told her about Daniel in the first place, that was a conversation I wasn’t particularly interested in having.

Daniel. Who’d claimed to have come to the Outer Banks for me.

Nope. Not going there. Not yet.

I’d kept myself busy enough with last-minute patients that I’d been able to hold most thoughts of him at bay today. I wouldn’t have that option during the storm. I’d have to deal with the complicated swirl of emotions he’d kicked up, but I needed to get back to the clinic first.

“According to the latest from the National Weather Service, conditions will rapidly deteriorate in the next 60 minutes as the Category 3 hurricane’s core draws closer with its 120-mile-per-hour winds. We can expect widespread power outages, downed trees and power lines, severe flooding in coastal areas, and potentially significant structural damage across the island as Hannah unleashes her full fury. This will be a long night, folks.”

I hoped like hell I made it back to the clinic before the power went down. I’d done a fantastic job prepping the medical side of things, but my impulsive decision to ride the storm out here had led to a half-assed preparation at best for myself. One of the big delays had been hunting down the battery-powered camp lantern and some candles, so at least I wouldn’t be spending the whole night in the unrelieved dark. I had the generator, but I felt compelled not to waste it until the storm was past, in case utilities were knocked out for longer than a day or two. The medications requiring refrigeration were covered by a smaller battery unit that would keep them cool for the next twenty-four hours. Then we’d see what there was to see.

“Emergency responders are standing by to mobilize once the worst of the storm passes. In the meantime, hunker down and stay away from windows. Don’t go outside for any reason until well after the storm has left the area. I’ll continue broadcasting storm coverage and updates from the WHAT emergency studio. Stay safe, Hatterwick. We’ll get through this together!”

I pushed my car through the empty streets of the village, past the boarded-over houses, and felt as if I was on the set of someapocalypse movie. Not a soul was out. Nor should they be with what was coming.

When the clinic came back into view, I exhaled a sigh of relief. At least until I wheeled into the lot and spotted the figure tucked under the overhang of the back door, hunched inside a dark rain slicker.

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