Chapter 18 Ride Through the Storm #2
And suddenly breathing became difficult.
I turned away from the porch.
Walked back inside.
The house felt emptier than ever.
The kitchen.
The living room.
The hallway.
Everything reminded me of him.
Every room carried memories.
Every memory carried regret.
The weight became unbearable.
I grabbed my truck keys.
Stopped.
Swore.
Then threw them back onto the counter.
The roads.
The storm.
The flooding.
Half the county would be underwater by now.
The truck wasn't the answer.
I knew that immediately.
What I needed was information.
I grabbed my phone.
Several calls later, I finally tracked down enough details to form a rough picture.
Road closures.
Flood warnings.
Traffic delays.
One county sheriff's office mentioned a stretch of highway completely blocked by rising water.
The location made my heart race.
Because Oliver would've passed through there.
Or tried to.
The realization struck instantly.
He wouldn't have made it very far.
Not in weather like this.
Not with half the roads closed.
Hope surged through me.
Wild.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
For the first time in two days, I had something I hadn't possessed since watching his truck disappear.
A chance.
Not a guarantee.
A chance.
That was enough.
I was moving before the thought fully finished.
The storm hammered the roof.
The wind screamed outside.
Common sense suggested staying home.
I ignored it.
Completely.
Ten minutes later, I stood inside the main barn saddling a horse.
Several ranch hands would've called me insane.
They would've been correct.
The horse tossed his head impatiently.
The familiar routine felt automatic.
Muscle memory.
Years of experience.
The leather creaked beneath my hands.
Thunder shook the barn.
The horse barely reacted.
Neither did I.
Because fear wasn't the problem anymore.
Regret was.
And regret had become far more terrifying.
The image of Oliver leaving kept replaying.
The hurt in his eyes.
The way he'd looked at me after I lied.
The way he'd believed me.
That last part hurt most.
The kid trusted me enough to believe the lie.
The realization felt unforgivable.
I finished tightening the saddle.
Checked the gear.
Then paused.
For one brief moment.
One final moment.
The storm raged outside.
The smart choice remained available.
Stay home.
Wait.
Accept the consequences.
The option sat there.
Reasonable.
Safe.
I laughed out loud.
The sound echoed through the barn.
Because safe had already cost me everything.
I wasn't interested in safe anymore.
I swung into the saddle.
The horse shifted beneath me.
Ready.
Eager.
The barn doors opened.
Rain exploded across the world beyond them.
A wall of water.
Wind.
Darkness.
The storm looked enormous.
Almost alive.
Good.
Let it be.
I had more important things to worry about.
The horse surged forward.
The rain hit immediately.
Cold.
Relentless.
Within seconds, I was soaked.
The storm didn't care.
Neither did I.
The miles blurred together.
Mud.
Flooded roads.
Lightning.
Thunder.
The entire world reduced itself to motion and determination.
Several times I questioned my own sanity.
Only several.
The horse pushed onward.
Steady.
Powerful.
The kind of partner every cowboy dreamed of.
We crossed fields.
Back roads.
Sections of highway.
Anywhere the flooding allowed.
Hours seemed to pass.
Maybe they did.
Time felt meaningless.
The only thing that mattered was finding him.
The only thing that mattered was reaching him before it was too late.
The realization carried me forward.
One mile at a time.
One storm at a time.
One heartbeat at a time.
Eventually the first signs appeared.
A roadside gas station.
Several stranded vehicles.
Travelers waiting out the weather.
The right area.
Close.
Very close.
Hope flared again.
I questioned everyone I could find.
Asked about a young man driving alone.
College student.
Dark hair.
Pickup truck.
Most people hadn't noticed.
One woman had.
She pointed farther down the highway.
Toward an isolated roadside motel.
The description landed like lightning.
Because it made sense.
Flooded roads.
Closed highways.
Nowhere else to go.
The realization nearly stole my breath.
I thanked her and pushed onward.
The final stretch felt endless.
The storm continued fighting every step.
The rain soaked through everything.
My muscles ached.
My old injury screamed its disapproval.
I ignored all of it.
Because somewhere ahead sat a motel.
And hopefully a stubborn artist.
The neon sign appeared through the darkness almost an hour later.
Flickering.
Weak.
Beautiful.
I nearly laughed from relief.
The motel parking lot looked half submerged beneath standing water.
Several vehicles sat outside.
Including one truck I recognized immediately.
My entire world stopped.
Oliver's truck.
The sight hit harder than any rodeo victory ever had.
For a second, I simply stared.
Making sure it was real.
Making sure exhaustion hadn't finally driven me insane.
It was real.
He was here.
The realization crashed through me.
Powerful enough to leave me breathless.
I dismounted slowly.
Every muscle protested.
The horse snorted.
Equally exhausted.
Fair.
We'd both earned it.
Rain continued pouring from the sky.
The storm showed no sign of ending.
Neither did my determination.
I tied the horse beneath a small overhang.
Then turned toward the motel.
Toward the glowing windows.
Toward the man I'd crossed half of Texas to find.
Water dripped from my hat.
My clothes clung to my skin.
Exhaustion settled deep into my bones.
None of it mattered.
Because for the first time since destroying everything, I finally had the opportunity to tell the truth.
To fight for us.
To beg if necessary.
And standing in the middle of a storm that seemed determined to wash the entire world away, I looked toward Oliver's room with a heart full of fear, hope, and desperation.
Then I started walking.
Because one way or another, I was getting him back.
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