11. Gabi
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 some apocalypse 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.
My hands tightened on the wheel. Had the prospective thief already come back?
Then he turned to face me and the glare of headlights illuminated his face.
Daniel.
The sight of him punched me in the gut. Again.
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. And now here he was again. Bags of some kind clustered around his feet.
This was the last thing I needed with the storm bearing down.
I’m in the Outer Banks for you .
His words echoed through my head.
What the fuck did that even mean? This jackass had broken my heart. He’d chosen his career over me without hesitation or discussion. Did he think he could just show up and sweep me away? That I’d leave the job and all the work I’d put in to make this clinic mine? Because fuck that shit. If he believed I’d do that, it just proved yet again that he didn’t know me at all to begin with.
Fueled by fresh temper, I parked as close to the building as possible and tugged up the hood of my raincoat. I didn’t even speak to him as I got out of the car, snagging my duffel bag of supplies. He stepped aside as I climbed the steps and approached the door. I tried not to notice how the rain had plastered the hair to his head. When I got the door open, he just marched right in behind me, uninvited.
“What the hell are you doing?” Other than dripping all over my floors. How long had he been standing out there? I shut down the momentary twinge of sympathy. I hadn’t invited him here.
“Bringing in supplies. If you’re gonna ride things out, you’re gonna need stuff.”
I dropped my own bag to the floor of the break room, which was the innermost windowless room of the building. “I brought my own.”
“Doesn’t hurt to have more.” He set his own bags down with more care than I had.
“Do you not have work to do somewhere else?”
“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?”
“Because I’m not leaving you here to ride this out by yourself. It’s not safe.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you abdicated the right to take care of me, LaRue. And I’m perfectly capable of handling the storm on my own.”
“Sure you are. You’re one of the most capable people I’ve ever met. It’s sexy as hell. I’m still not leaving you by yourself.”
The swirl of emotion rose so fast it all but choked me. So much rage. At him for what he’d done. For being here when I’d just started to put the end of us behind me. And at myself for being even a little bit relieved at the idea of not being here alone.
Why the hell did it have to be him? He was the last person I wanted to see.
“You weren’t invited.”
“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. “Except this isn’t your neighborhood. You’re supposed to be in Seattle. And I’m not feeling remotely friendly toward you.”
“That’s totally fair, cher ,” he said easily.
It was totally fair. So why the hell did the notion if him validating my feelings make me even more furious?
As if my emotional storm had conjured it, wind and rain crashed against the building like a whip. The storm had fully hit, and whatever window I’d had to evict him had passed. For better or worse, I was stuck with my ex for the next several hours.
Well, shit.