Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SAVVY
I knew it was a mistake after the first twenty minutes. Two hours later, covered in mud, grass, and debris, I’m ready to throw in the towel.
“It’s not that much further,” Grey says from where he’s standing. “I swear you’re part baby giraffe. How have you possibly made it through life walking on your own?” he asks before reaching down to offer me a hand.
“A, I’m not wearing my own shoes, and B, we’re slipping and sliding around in brown snot. This shit is nasty, so do you truly believe I’m not trying to remain standing?”
He shakes his head, hauls me to my feet, then drags me forward.
“Just hang on to me, and we’ll be to the main road any minute.”
I take two steps before I lose my borrowed shoe in a squelching, slurping mudhole. I attempt to release his hand, but he stubbornly holds tighter, and we both tumble to the muck. Again.
“Jesus, Monroe. You’re built like an athlete but with none of the coordination.”
He’s not wrong, and the absurdity of the situation makes me laugh.
Grey pauses, his pale blue irises glued to my lips, and the laughter dies away with the heaviness of his stare.
He’s done this before when I laugh, and each time, my stomach tightens with worry and something so much stronger than desire that I can’t put it into words.
What is it about my laugh that has him studying me this way?
“Are we going to end up with a parasite from all this mud and gunk?” I ask. I’d likely say anything at this point to steer us away from the intensity of his appraisal.
He shrugs but manages to gracefully launch himself back to his feet while I slip and slide on my hands and knees.
Please, please, please do not throw up. Who knows what the hell we’re actually walking through, but the rotten scent that wafts through the air occasionally isn’t helping me. My gag reflex is more than triggered.
“Probably.” He grabs me under my armpits before lifting me again.
“Think we’ll end up quarantined together?”
Grey has upped his side-eye game since we’ve been stranded together. And when he uses it now, I can’t hide my smirk.
“Monroe, I don’t know what to do with you.” Exasperation has never sounded so sexy.
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that one,” I say. His fingers twitch. It’s the same motion he uses when he’s rolling his lucky coin through them. I’m nearly certain he’s not even aware he’s doing it.
We manage to walk for almost fifteen minutes without me falling. It’s a new record.
“What the hell are you two doing out here?”
I recognize the Irish brogue, and my head snaps in a full circle, trying to locate Cian. I find him about twenty yards to the left of us, and just as I’m about to run, Grey grabs me by the shoulders to hold me in place.
“Don’t even think about running. The last thing I need is you breaking a leg out here.” Grey’s words are a hypnotic warning, his breath is warm against my ear, causing a shiver to overtake my limbs.
“Question is, if you’re here, why have we been cut off from all communications?” Grey directs the question to Cian, but his gaze and hands remain on me.
“Christ on a turd loaf.” Cian’s cursing always makes me chuckle.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to curse anymore?” I tease, knowing full well that his wife, Elle, has put a moratorium on swearing since they brought Keela home from the hospital.
“Mind your own damn business,” he mutters. “I knew this cockamamie idea was rubbish.”
The smile slips from my face.
“Cian,” I warn. “What are you talking about?”
“Fecking bubbletwits. Come on. I’ll take you to town, but I’m warning ya, it’s as loony as I’ve ever seen it.”
He motions for us to follow him to the ATV that’s parked beneath a line of trees. Grey keeps his hand on my upper arm until we’re seated.
“What’s going on, Cian?” If my hands weren’t covered in muck, I would be biting the hell out of my thumbnail right now.
His sad frown falls to mine. “Just remember, their plan was to protect you both, and their hearts are in the right place, even if they’ve lost their damn minds.”
He starts the ATV and hits the gas. With no windows or walls, I’m assaulted by fast-moving air as he maneuvers the thing through the mud, effectively cutting off any meaningful communication.
By the time we reach town, it feels as though we’ve entered another world. While Grey and I were stranded, the rest of Happiness appears to have doubled in size.
Emergency vehicles line main street, with pop-up tents littering the sidewalks, but structurally, the town itself is unharmed.
“Most of the damage is superficial, but Stillwater was almost completely destroyed,” Cian shouts above the ATV’s noise.
Stillwater is the next town over and even smaller than Happiness.
“The hurricane lost steam after surrounding the woods by Pride Peak and your place, but FEMA’s here, and we’ve been taking a census of locals while searching for Stillwater residents.
West of Bitter Creek was hit the hardest, while everything from Envy’s Edge on is untouched, so most of this is for Stillwater.
” He shifts gears and presses on the gas, but not before something catches my eye.
“Did that sign say Rent-a-Womb?” Grey rumbles, his voice like thunder, cutting through the air like a knife.
I tilt my head toward him, but whatever else he says is lost to the wind tunnel we’re in. His face, on the other hand, tells a thousand stories, and none of them are good.
Turning back to the town as we pass by, I catch sight of another sign that reads: We Vote Real Love.
No. No, no, no. This can’t be good.
On the corner of Main Street and Joy Junction are picket-style signs. Savvy Monroe for Town Sweetheart. Rent-a-Womb or Mistress-of-Doom. Vote for Love.
By the time Cian pulls into the parking lot of the Hideaway, Madi’s inn, my head is spinning with all the ways my day is about to implode.
“Why are so many people here?” Grey asks, jumping down from the ATV and standing at my side.
“Emergency shelter has been set up at the Chug.” Right. Madi’s coworking space is the perfect venue for that. “And this is a private business, so it keeps out…” Cian pulls on his neck and won’t make eye contact.
“Keeps out who, Cian?” Grey demands.
“The media. You fecking fools are magnets for that shite, I swear. Just get inside, would ya, before someone sees ya.”
Grey ushers me up the front steps, his movements mechanical as he takes in our surroundings. Even after almost a week, I’m still not used to seeing him in casual clothing.
The second he opens the door, I inhale the scent of sugar and spice—the result of years’ worth of daily cookie baking that even a full renovation couldn’t erase—and hear an argument.
A rather loud argument that suddenly falls silent when we step over the threshold, looking as though we’ve been wrestling in the mud.
Madi has lived here in her grandparents’ inn since she was ten. Over the years, it’s become a home base of sorts for metaphorical orphans like Clover and me too. Muscle memory made up of comforting senses invades my mind, willing it to calm and find peace.
My pulse syncs to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner like a personal metronome.
The relief of feeling safe within these four walls eases my shoulders away from my ears.
The fresh flowers that get replaced each Sunday sit on the entryway table, welcoming everyone with their bright, cheery colors.
The familiar sense of happiness and belonging has never felt this fragile though—a foundation crumbling to the ground with me standing in the center of it.
“Told ya we couldn’t keep them locked up there for long,” Cian says, turning sideways and scooting past me.
I scan the crowd, recognizing most people, but for the first time since moving to Happiness for college, not everyone greets me with warmth.
A long-repressed anxiety bubbles to life in my gut. Why are they looking at me like that?
“Meeting adjourned,” Moose calls in his booming voice. “We’ll pick this back up tomorrow. Everyone out and remember, we take care of our own. Always.”
Grey fists the back of the mud-covered T-shirt I’m wearing and hauls me back to him while all the usual suspects of Happiness, Georgia filter by. Most wear a small smile, but a few, like freaking Bethany Price, are filled with scorn.
It’s the scorn that makes it hard to swallow.
“You’re filthy,” Madi says, hugging me anyway.
Clover, who’s scared of everything from clouds to germs, opts for a high five, then immediately pulls hand sanitizer out of her bag.
“Start at the beginning,” Greyson demands. He hasn’t released the back of my shirt, and oddly, I’m okay with that.
Braxton hands us each a couple of towels, then sits at the large dining room table.
“Do you want to get cleaned up first?” he asks.
“No.” Grey takes one of the towels and wipes off my back. I’m clearly the disaster of our little excursion today.
“Okay.” Braxton waits until we’ve wiped ourselves down and fresh towels are wrapped around our chests. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
Greyson and I sink into chairs across from him as Madi hands us each a cup of Blissy’s coconut-coffee-bean something.
“Just say it.” Grey must practice speaking through his teeth—he’s shockingly good at it.
“Right before the hurricane hit, a story broke.” Madi’s eyes cut to mine with something like pity, and I accidentally fist my paper cup of coffee so hard that the top flies off, and scalding liquid flows over my hand. I don’t feel any of it.
“Shit,” Grey mutters, quickly mopping up the mess while I stare at my best friend.
“What story?” The words feel deceptively calm as I utter them.