Page 49 of When Summer Returns

“Miguel!” Reece called, his voice cutting through the nervous chatter of the room. “Status report.”

“Generator’s running at full capacity, all systems nominal. We’ve got enough food for three days minimum, water for four if we ration. Medical supplies are good except for?—”

“The insulin,” Reece finished grimly. “Right.”

A violent gust of wind slammed against the building, causing even the reinforced structure to shudder. Several children whimpered, and a chorus of nervous murmurs rose from the adults. Through it all, Jessie heard something different—the distinctive growl of an engine struggling against punishing conditions.

The door burst open, admitting a rush of wind and water along with two drenched figures. Luke supported Maggie, whose limping gait suggested injury. In his other hand, he clutched a waterproof medical bag, held high above the elements like precious cargo.

Relief crashed through Jessie with such force that her knees nearly buckled. Reece moved first, crossing the room in long strides to take Maggie’s weight from Luke.

“Clinic roof partially collapsed,” Luke reported, his voice rough from shouting against the storm. “East wall’s compromised. We got the insulin and what medical supplies we could carry.” He handed the bag to Tasha, who immediately moved to secure the critical medication.

“Your leg?” Reece asked Maggie, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Debris.” She grimaced. “Nothing broken, just a bad cut. Had to wade through waist-deep water at the intersection. Current’s strong enough to knock you over if you’re not careful.”

Jessie approached with dry towels, offering one to Luke, who accepted it with a grateful nod. “Vehicles are all secured on the ridge,” she told him. “No casualties, though Miguel’s ego may never recover from getting knocked down by that wave.”

“Hey, that wave was at least six feet high,” Miguel protested from across the room. “And I maintained a very dignified face-plant.”

“The dignified part being how you screamed all the way down,” Tasha added.

The banter seemed to ease something in Luke’s expression, a fraction of tension releasing from his shoulders. He ran the towel over his hair, which stood up in damp spikes like a teenager’s, softening his features and making him look years younger.

“You’re bleeding,” Jessie said softly, noticing a thin trail of red working its way down his temple.

He touched the spot absently. “Must have caught something when we were moving equipment. It’s nothing.”

“Let me see.” She stepped closer, gently tilting his head to examine the cut. “Doesn’t look deep, but head wounds bleed like crazy. Let’s clean it up.”

Luke submitted to her ministrations with surprising docility, following her to a quieter corner where the first aid supplies were stored. As she cleaned the small gash with antiseptic, their physical proximity created a bubble of relative privacy amid the storm shelter’s controlled chaos.

Her fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against his skin—not from nerves but from the electric awareness that seemed to arc between them whenever they touched. The warmth of his breath against her wrist as she worked sent a cascade of goose bumps up her arm. Standing this close, she could map the changes time had etched onto his face—fine lines that spoke of laughter and weather, the slight dusting of silver at his temples that somehow made him more devastatingly attractive than the golden boy she’d left behind.

When her thumb accidentally grazed the corner of his mouth, she felt rather than heard his sharp intake of breath. Their eyes met briefly, heat flashing between them with an intensity that rivaled the lightning outside. For a heartbeat, she thought he might turn his head just enough to press his lips to her palm, and the mere possibility sent a jolt of longing through her core.

“That was quite the adventure,” she said lightly, though her hands weren’t entirely steady as she applied a butterfly bandage to his temple.

“Not exactly the evening entertainment I had planned.” His eyes, blue as summer skies despite the storm raging outside, held hers. “You did good out there. I heard you got all the vehicles moved before the surge hit the parking area.”

“We make a decent team, Mallory. Even when we’re on different missions.”

Something shifted in his expression—a softening, a recognition. “Yeah. We do.”

The moment stretched between them, weighted with unspoken possibilities. Then a tremendous crack of thunder broke the spell, the lights flickering ominously before stabilizing once more.

“Generator’s holding,” Luke noted, glancing toward the control panel. “But the main power’s going to fail completely soon. We should distribute the emergency lighting before it does.”

The hours that followed took on a dreamlike quality—intense activity punctuated by moments of eerie calm as the storm’s bands passed over the island. True to predictions, the main power failed shortly after nine, plunging the building into darkness for the heart-stopping seconds before the generator kicked in, providing essential but limited lighting. Outside, the hurricane reached full fury, wind screaming around corners and hammering at every potential weakness in the structure. The sound alone was terrifying—a freight train coupled with the roar of a massive waterfall, relentless and all encompassing.

Inside, the gathered islanders huddled in their designated areas, some attempting to sleep, others maintaining nervous vigils. Children had largely succumbed to exhaustion, their small forms curled under blankets while parents kept protective watch. The shelter staff—now including Reece and Maggie—maintained a rotation of duties, from security checks to comfort rounds.

Shortly before eleven, with Benedict reaching its peak intensity, Jessie found herself in the storeroom, taking inventory of remaining supplies. The small space, illuminated only by a battery-powered lantern, felt strangely peaceful compared to the storm’s fury outside. She methodically counted packages of water bottles, noting numbers on a clipboard to ensure they weren’t running low on essentials.

The door opened behind her, admitting Luke with his own clipboard. “Medical supplies check,” he explained. “Maggie’s resting. Reece threatened to handcuff her to a chair if she didn’t elevate that leg.”

“How romantic,” Jessie deadpanned. “Nothing says true love like restraints and first aid.”

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