Chapter 11
ELEVEN
GABI
“Hey Hatterwick, Sam Lewis here, broadcasting live on WHAT as we start to see 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 that 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 never actually told her about Daniel in the first place, that was a conversation I wasn’t particularly interested in having.
Daniel, who 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.
The steady stream of worried islanders needing prescriptions refilled, minor injuries treated, and reassurances given had provided the perfect distraction from the chaos he'd stirred up in my chest. But I wouldn't have that luxury during the storm.
The long, quiet hours stretching ahead would leave me with nothing but time to think, to dissect every word he'd said, every look that had passed between us.
I'd have to deal with the complicated swirl of emotions he'd kicked up eventually, but I needed to get back to the clinic first. I needed the familiar comfort of my workspace, my sanctuary, before I could even begin to untangle this mess.
"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.
The last thing I needed was to be fumbling around in the dark, trying to navigate flooded streets by the glow of my headlights.
I'd done a fantastic job prepping the medical side of things—emergency supplies organized, backup power systems tested, critical medications secured—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 buried somewhere in Caroline's closet and scrounging up some candles from various drawers around the house, so at least I wouldn't be spending the whole night in the unrelieved dark.
The thought of sitting alone in that clinic, listening to Hannah tear the island apart while surrounded by pitch blackness, made my skin crawl.
I had a generator, but I wouldn’t waste it until the storm was past, in case utilities were knocked out for longer than a day or two.
The diesel fuel was precious, and there was no telling when the next supply boat would make it to the island.
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. I'd done everything I could think of, but the nagging sense that I'd forgotten something important gnawed at me.
"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! "
The empty streets of the village and the boarded-over houses, was like being on the set of some apocalypse movie.
The familiar shops and restaurants I passed daily looked alien and forbidding behind their plywood shields.
Not a soul was out, which was exactly as it should be.
Even the seagulls had vanished, driven inland or to whatever shelter they could find.
The only movement came from debris already starting to skitter across the asphalt and the occasional loose piece of plywood flapping ominously in the wind.
When the clinic came back into view, I exhaled a sigh of relief that was short-lived. 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 like some kind of storm-battered refugee.
My hands tightened on the wheel until my knuckles went white. Had the prospective thief already come back? Had someone decided to take advantage of the storm to break into the clinic? My heart hammered against my ribs as adrenaline flooded my system.
Then he turned to face me, and the glare of headlights illuminated his face through the driving rain.
Daniel.
The sight of him punched me in the gut like a physical blow, stealing my breath and making my vision swim for a moment. Again. Just when I thought I'd gotten my equilibrium back, there he was, disrupting everything with his mere presence.
I hadn't allowed myself to think about him or his ludicrous declaration.
I'd been too busy trying to deal with the endless stream of patients, focusing on their needs instead of the turmoil churning in my chest. And now here he was again, like some kind of stubborn ghost I couldn't shake.
Bags of some kind clustered around his feet, as if he'd been camping out there for who knew how long.
This was the last thing I needed with the storm bearing down, with my nerves already stretched thin from the day's preparations and the looming night ahead.
I'm in the Outer Banks for you, cher.
His words echoed through my head, bouncing around like pinballs and refusing to settle anywhere that made sense. Each repetition was another small explosion going off in my chest.
What the fuck did that even mean? This jackass had broken my heart into so many pieces I'd thought I'd never find them all.
He'd chosen his career over me without hesitation or discussion, decided for both of us like my feelings didn't matter at all.
Did he think he could just show up and sweep me away after all this time?
That I'd abandon the job and all the work I'd put in to prove myself worthy of the trust this community had placed in me?
Because fuck that shit. If he believed I'd do that, if he thought I'd follow him anywhere, it just proved yet again that he didn't know me at all to begin with. That maybe he never had.
Fueled by fresh temper that burned hot and bright in my chest, I parked as close to the building as possible and tugged up the hood of my raincoat.
The wind immediately tried to rip it back down, and rain stung my face like needles.
I didn't even speak to him as I got out of the car, deliberately avoiding eye contact while snagging my duffel bag of supplies from the passenger seat.
The weight of his gaze was a physical thing, heavy and expectant, but I refused to acknowledge it.
He stepped aside as I climbed the steps and approached the door, water streaming off both of us onto the concrete.
I tried not to notice how the rain plastered his dark hair to his head, how it made his eyes look even more startlingly blue against his tanned skin.
I tried not to remember how it felt to run my fingers through that hair, how those eyes used to look at me like I was his whole world.
When I got the door open, he just marched right in behind me, uninvited, bringing the smell of rain and something distinctly him that made my chest tighten with unwanted recognition.
"What the hell are you doing?" The words came out sharp with all the frustration and hurt I was trying so hard to contain.
Other than dripping all over my floors and making himself at home in my space without permission.
How long had he been standing out there, getting soaked to the bone?
I shut down the momentary twinge of sympathy before it could take root.
I hadn't invited him here. I didn't owe him concern or care.
"Bringing in supplies." He hefted the bags he'd dragged in with him, his voice matter-of-fact as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "If you're gonna ride things out, you're gonna need stuff."
I dropped my own bag to the floor of the break room with more force than necessary, the thud echoing in the small space. The break room was the innermost windowless room of the building, the safest place to hunker down when Hannah hit with full force. "I brought my own."
"Doesn't hurt to have more." He set his own bags down with more care, and I caught glimpses of what looked like emergency rations, bottled water, and other supplies spilling out.
"Do you not have work to do somewhere else?" I stripped off my rain jacket and hung it on the hook by the door, trying to inject as much dismissal into my voice as possible. "Shouldn't you be out there being all heroic and Coast Guard-y?"
"We're done with work for now. Things are battened down, and my men are riding out the storm at the firehouse."
"Then why aren't you with them?" I turned to face him fully for the first time since he'd appeared like some kind of unwanted apparition. "Shouldn't you be with your team?"
"Because I'm not leaving you here to ride this out by yourself. It's not safe."
The presumption in his voice, the casual way he said it like it was his decision to make, sent fury racing through my veins.
"In case you've forgotten, you abdicated the right to take care of me, LaRue.
You gave that up when you chose Seattle over me.
And I'm perfectly capable of handling the storm on my own. "
"Sure you are." His eyes tracked over me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness. "You're one of the most capable people I've ever met. It's sexy as hell. I'm still not leavin' you by yourself."
The swirl of emotion rose so fast it all but choked me, a tsunami that threatened to drag me under.
So much rage—at him for what he'd done, for the casual way he'd shattered my world and walked away.
For being here when I'd just started to put the end of us behind me, when I'd finally begun to build something that was mine alone.
And at myself for being even a little bit relieved at the idea of not being here alone, for the treacherous part of my heart that still responded to his presence despite everything.
Why the hell did it have to be him? Of all the people who could have shown up to keep me company during the storm, it had to be the one person I'd spent months trying to forget. The one who knew exactly how to get under my skin, how to make me feel things I didn't want to feel.
"You weren't invited." The words came out flat and cold, each one carefully measured.
"I can stay out of your way. I'm just here to help."
"Just here to help. Just our friendly neighborhood Coast Guardsman." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable like venom. "Except this isn't your neighborhood. You're supposed to be in Seattle, living your dream life. And I'm not feeling remotely friendly toward you."
"That's totally fair, cher," he said easily, and the familiar endearment hit me like a slap. The casual way he said it, like nothing had changed, like he still had the right to call me that.
It was totally fair. I had every right to be angry, every right to want him gone. So why the hell did the notion of him validating my feelings make me even more furious? Why did his easy acceptance of my anger seem like another kind of dismissal?
As if my emotional storm had conjured it, wind and rain crashed against the building like a physical assault, the sound so violent it made me flinch.
The storm had fully hit with the fury the weather service had promised, and my window to evict him had slammed shut as decisively as the hurricane shutters over the clinic's windows.
For better or worse, I was stuck with my ex for the next several hours, trapped in this small space while Hannah raged outside.
The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd been dreading spending the night alone, and now I had company. Just not the kind I would have chosen in a million years.
Well, shit.