Chapter 3 #2
"I remember the girl who taught herself HTML because our computer lab was stuck in the nineties.
Who built that animal shelter website because she thought the dogs deserved better photos.
" His mouth curves into a small smile. "Who told Tom Bradley his pickup lines were as outdated as his operating system. "
A laugh bubbles up. "I'd forgotten about that."
"I hadn't. You were the bravest person I knew. Smart as hell and completely unafraid to be yourself."
"That girl seems like a stranger now."
"She's not. She's just buried under other people's expectations."
Tears prick my eyes. "What about you? Is this what you wanted?"
Something shifts in his expression. "Honestly? No. I had plans—college, travel, see what was out there. But Dad got sick. Mom needed help. You know the rest."
"You stayed."
"I stayed. Most days I don't regret it. But maybe the life you plan at eighteen isn't the life you need at thirty."
There's something wistful in his voice. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if things had been different?"
The air is full of regret. Lucas sets down his mug. His eyes never leave mine.
"Every day," he says quietly.
The words are heavy with years of unspoken possibilities when a massive gust of wind slams into the building. The windows rattle in their frames. One of the candles flickers dangerously before Lucas reaches out to steady it.
"Jesus," I breathe, watching the flame dance back to life. "How much worse is this going to get?"
As if in answer, thunder crashes overhead—close and violent. I flinch instinctively. My tea sloshes over the rim of my mug.
"A Storm like this could go on for hours." Lucas moves to the window. Peering out through the rain-streaked glass. "Good thing you're not trying to drive in this."
I join him at the window. Drawn by some masochistic need to see just how trapped we really are.
The street below is a river of rushing water.
Streetlights sway like drunk dancers in the wind.
Tree branches litter the sidewalk. What looks like someone's garbage can is tumbling end over end down Main Street.
"It's like the apocalypse out there," I murmur. Watching a stop sign bend at an impossible angle.
"Welcome back to small-town living." There's dark humor in his voice. "No sirens. No twenty-four-hour emergency services. Just you, Mother Nature, and whatever supplies you've got on hand."
Another flash of lightning illuminates the chaos outside.
Followed immediately by thunder that seems to originate from directly above us.
The candlelight wavers. Casting shifting shadows across the walls.
I realize how isolated we really are. Cut off from the world.
Wrapped in our own little bubble of warmth and flickering light.
"At least the candles are holding up," I say. Try to inject some optimism into the moment.
"For now." Lucas turns away from the window. His expression serious. "But if this keeps up, we might be riding this out in the dark."
The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me. Being trapped in the darkness with Lucas. Nothing but the sound of the storm and the space between us. It should terrify me. Instead, it feels like the most dangerous kind of sanctuary.
"Scared?" he asks. There's something almost teasing in his voice.
"Of the storm? No." I settle back onto the couch. Pulling one of his soft blankets around my shoulders. "I've lived through Seattle winters. A little thunder doesn't scare me."
"A little thunder?" Lucas raises an eyebrow as another boom shakes the building. "This is positively biblical."
"Okay, a lot of thunder." I tuck my feet under me. Cocooned in his blanket that smells like laundry detergent and something indefinably him. "But I'm warm. I'm not alone. Could be worse."
"Could be better too."
The words are quiet. Almost lost in the sound of rain hammering against the windows. But they make my pulse skip. Something in his tone makes the moment feel even more intense.
"Could it?" I ask. My voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas looks at me across the small space that separates us on the couch. In the flickering light, his eyes are darker than I've ever seen them. The storm rages outside, but in here, the only sound is our breathing and the rapid beating of my heart.
Thunder crashes again. So violent and immediate that it feels like the sky is splitting open. I jump. Tea sloshing in my mug.
I set my mug down and move toward the window. Needing to see if the storm is showing any signs of letting up. The glass is fogged with condensation. Rain streaming down in sheets that make it hard to see anything clearly. I wipe at the glass with my sleeve. Clear a small circle to peer through.
That's when I see it.
A figure across the street. Barely visible through the downpour. Standing perfectly still under the weak glow of the one streetlight that's still working. Like the storm doesn't affect them at all. Like they're watching.
Like they're waiting.
My blood runs cold. The figure is too far away. Too obscured by rain and darkness to make out any features. But something about the way they're standing—patient, predatory—makes every survival instinct I have start screaming.
"Maya?" Lucas's voice seems to come from very far away. "What is it?"
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't look away from that motionless shape. It could be nothing.
But I know it's not.
"There's someone out there," I whisper. My voice barely audible over the storm.
Lucas is beside me in an instant. His warmth solid and reassuring against my back. I feel him lean over my shoulder to look through the clearing I made in the condensation.
"Where?"
I point with a shaking finger. "Across the street. Under the light."
For a long moment, we both stare into the storm. Lightning flickers. Illuminating the street in stark black and white. For just a second, the figure is clearly visible. Tall. Male. Wearing a dark coat with the hood pulled up.
Standing absolutely still and facing our window.
"Jesus," Lucas breathes. I feel his body go rigid behind me.
Another flash of lightning, and the figure is gone. Vanishing like they were never there at all.