TWENTY-SIX Quincy #2
“Please, Monroe. I’m a professional.” He skims his hand along the hem of my tank top, the material sticking to my skin. “But it might have been some added motivation.”
Above us, the awning creaks and groans. A screw pops loose, falling to the ground next to my foot.
I look up, awestruck when the roof rips off and subjects us to the unforgiving elements.
A dark sky. Torrential rain. Even more intense wind.
It’s like a jet engine is in front of us, and I yelp when I lose my footing.
“Shit.” I grip Sebastian’s arms to keep myself upright. A gutter goes flying past us, missing his head by mere inches. “Where do we go now?”
“There’s a parking garage next door,” he yells. “We can try to get there.”
“Okay.” I nod, watching the entire roof of the two-story house across the street fly away.
Shingles litter the ground. The foundation looks as if it’s caving in, and my hand flies to my mouth when the top floor collapses.
“Sebastian. Look. God. I hope no one is inside. Or if they are, they’re somewhere safe. ”
Whenever a hurricane nears, the same question is always asked: Why didn’t they evacuate? They had the time. They knew what was coming.
The longer I do this, the more I understand.
It’s easy to judge from thousands of miles away, but when you’re faced with life and death, the thought of leaving behind possessions and memories and a home you’ve spent your life building is heartbreaking.
Some have medical devices or mobility issues.
Some are stubborn. They’d rather die than give up something they love more than anything in the world, and choosing to stay must be the hardest decision they’ll ever have to make.
I wipe away the tear rolling down my cheek and sniff. Sebastian takes my hand in his and holds tight.
“They’ll be okay,” he says softly, a juxtaposition to the earth falling apart around us. The assurance warms me in a way I didn’t know I needed, but he did. “We should move, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
Beauty in the midst of destruction. Hope in the middle of bleakness, and I reach for him, kissing him frantically. He meets my urgency, hands slipping into the back pockets of my shorts and cupping my ass. I only pull away when another tree snaps, the branch falling right where we just stood.
“I want to kiss you until we stop breathing, Quinny baby, but I want it to be on my terms, not Mother Nature’s. We’re heading for the parking garage. Now,” he adds, giving my arm a tug and taking off in a sprint.
It’s hard to match his stride and dodge the flying obstacles that greet us outside our safe haven. I scream, a lawn chair flying directly at us, and Sebastian drops us to the ground, his body positioned over mine.
It doesn’t feel real, something out of a movie where the world ends. We’re totally unprotected, braving the start of the fierce storm without anywhere to go, and he holds himself above me to shield me.
“Change of plans,” he pants. He’s almost impossible to see, the rain falling in blinding sheets around us.
“Fucking me in the rain is also on your bucket list?” I ask. I’m scared, afraid this is how I’m going to die and turning to jokes to calm my heart. An emergency alert blares from both our phones. In the distance, a tornado siren wails, and I start to shake.
“Not like this it’s not.” The wind steals the words, yanking them away.
Sebastian flattens himself on me, his weight nearly unbearable but necessary when a strong gust rips through the air.
If he weren’t here, I’m afraid I would fly away.
“We need to get back to the hotel. It’s a hundred yards away. ”
“Okay.” I nod, afraid to move. The second I do, I’ll be exposed, and having him on top of me is the calm I need. “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?”
“Truth or Dare in the middle of a hurricane? Don’t toy with me, Quinny baby.”
“A couple months ago, I would’ve been pissed if you were the last thing I was going to see before I died. But now?” I swallow. “Now I think it would be a gift to see you before I died. Will you wait for me on the other side?”
“We’re not dying. I’m not going to let that happen to you,” he grits out, the rain falling harder. “But do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now?”
“What?”
“I wish you had your goggles and helmet so I know I could keep you safe. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will protect you until the end of my days.”
“Next time,” I whisper, knowing he’s become the most important thing in my life too.
“We’re going to have to move. We can’t last much longer out here.”
“When?”
“Now.” Sebastian jumps to his feet, helping me stand. He starts for the buildings I can’t make out, visibility basically zero.
In a fit of stupidity, and in case these are my last moments on earth, I pull out my phone and start a live stream. I’m not sure I’m even connected, but I start talking, my camera pointed straight ahead.
“I’m in the middle of the first half of Hurricane Georgianna,” I say, trying to match Sebastian’s quick pace. “We were somewhere safe, but that place quickly became unsafe, so we’re trying to make it back to the hotel now. I’m not sure you can even see anything on my screen right now.”
He pulls out a handheld anemometer from his left pocket, holding it in front of him. “Pressure is 938 millibars and dropping,” he says. “Winds have to be over 160 right now.”
The gusts propel us forward, aiding us in reaching our destination. His hat goes flying, hitting me in the face before disappearing with a swirl of leaves. His hand never leaves mine, even when I start to slow, exhausted from the physical exertion.
“I wanted y’all to see what it’s like to be in the middle of one of these things.
” I talk loudly to the camera, overwhelming relief weighing down my shoulders when I see the hotel ahead.
“As Georgianna makes landfall, it will travel straight up the I-4 corridor, making its way to Orlando, then exiting on the East Coast. I’ll be back later during the eye. ”
“Get inside,” Sebastian yells, ripping open the emergency exit entrance and tugging my arm.
I end my live stream and take a breath, the quiet unnerving after the noise from outside. I put a hand on the wall, breathing hard.
“That was …” I shake my head. A million words come to mind. Exhilarating. Petrifying. Stupid. Life-changing. I glance up. Sebastian wipes his face with his drenched shirt. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asks, wringing out the wet cotton.
“Being here with me.”
“I told you there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Pres.”
“Should we go back to the room?”
“The bathroom, specifically. At least until the eye.”
“And then?”
Sebastian holds the back of my neck. There’s a tremble to his grip. “And then we get ready for round two.”