Chapter 42
Kelly
The storm hits hard as darkness settles over Harbor’s Edge, the snow pounding down in thick, relentless sheets. Wind howls outside, rattling the windows and whipping down Main Street.
Nora and I are layered in sweaters and thick blankets, cocooned in front of the space heater on the floor with mugs of steaming tea.
I glance over at Nora. The red glow from the heater plays over her pretty face. “You think the storm’s going to get as bad as they say?”
She shrugs, pulling her blanket around her shoulders. “It’s hard to know. This is one of the worst winter storms I’ve ever seen. Everything’s getting iced over.”
Outside, the wind picks up again, howling, alive. The streetlights have already faded into a hazy blur behind the frost-covered windows, and the external walls of the apartment block creak.
“Thank God for heaters, right?” Nora says, taking a long sip from her mug. “I mean, imagine if the power went out—”
And, as if on cue, the heater sputters, a faint click resounding as the lights blink off, plunging us into darkness. A heavy silence follows, only interrupted by the relentless wind outside.
“Well,” I say, my voice sounding thin in the dark. “You spoke too soon.”
Nora’s features sharpen in the dark as my eyes adjust, and I can see her frown. “Great timing, huh? Okay. No big deal. I’ll get the candles.”
We fumble for our phones, the cold taking the place of the heat so quickly it’s almost shocking. Nora turns on her phone light and moves to the kitchen, where she opens a drawer and pulls out some candles and matches. There’s the strike of a match, then a single flame, followed by another. The light catches the blue of Nora’s wide eyes as she glances around the now-shadowed room.
A crack of wind hits the apartment again, the storm clawing at the windows of our apartment, a feral beast unleashed upon the New Jersey coast. Snowflakes, fat and relentless, continue to pelt against the glass.
I switch on my own phone light and pull the blanket around my shoulders before tapping twice on the carpet, then twice more, seeking calm in the rhythm, trying not to think about what’s happening out there.
My phone vibrates. It’s Jake, and I swipe to answer. “Hey, are you and Nora okay? Power’s out here.”
“Yeah, it’s out here, too. We’re fine for now. Nora’s just lit a couple of candles. Can I give you a call a little later?"
“Make sure you do. I’ll be thinking of you.”
“Talk soon.”
I hang up, left with the cold and my thoughts, a dangerous combination on a night like this. He’s just a call away, but right now, an ocean stretches between us.
Nora opens the fridge, squinting at the dim light from her phone as she pulls out anything that looks remotely edible—a half-full carton of orange juice, a wedge of brie, some cherry tomatoes, a tub of hummus, crackers, chocolate mousse, and a plastic container of leftover Pad Thai. She sets them all on a tray and brings it over with a grin.
“Dinner is served,” she announces, putting on a dramatic voice. “Get it while it’s cold!” She laughs, then takes a seat on the floor across from me, tucking her legs under her. “Guess we’d better eat as much of this as we can. Although at this stage, the living room’s probably colder than the fridge.”
I nod, but my mind’s a million miles away. Outside, the storm is raging, and my thoughts are still on my installations—on the carefully arranged tarps, the bolts Jake hammered down. The supports his crew put in place. Is any of it holding up? Or is everything I’ve poured my heart into getting ripped apart by the wind right now?
“Hey, Earth to Kelly.” Nora’s voice cuts through, and she nudges me with her elbow. “Want some hummus?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure,” I reply, keeping my tone light. I reach for a cracker, doing my best to appear casual, but my stomach tightens at the thought of eating. It’s not what I need right now. If I eat just one or two things, slowly, Nora won’t notice if I don’t have any more.
She hands me a fork and nudges the noodles toward me. "You okay, Kel? You’re a million miles away.”
“I just—” I hesitate, words catching in my throat. I could tell her, spill the anxiety that’s scratching at me from the inside, pulling away every carefully constructed layer around my flawed heart. But what would I even say? That I’ve been talking to Mom at our old house and I’m scared I’ll never make her proud?
I look up and grimace. “I’m just thinking about the festival installations. This storm could ruin everything. I mean, weeks of planning and work, and in one night—gone.”
Nora bites into her cheese and shrugs. “Maybe. It could also be fine. And even if it’s not, you can’t control a storm, right? I mean, everyone knows it’s not your fault if something happens.”
But it doesn’t seem that simple. It never does. I envy people like Nora. Like Jake. “I guess.”
I stare down at my plate, carefully spreading a thin layer of hummus on a cracker and breaking it in half before taking a delicate bite.
Nora watches me as she nibbles on a piece of brie. “So how are things going with Jake?”
“Things are good. We haven’t missed a beat, you know?” I take another tiny bite of my cracker.
“Good, huh?” She waggles her eyebrows in that teasing way she does. “Sounds as though the chemistry’s still hot.”
“It is. In fact, he’s learned a thing or two over the years.” I force a smile.
She tilts her head as she studies me. “But?”
I set my cracker down and shrug. “You know Jake.” I swallow, hesitating. “It’s not that he doesn’t care. It’s just that he’s Jake. He’s focused on fixing things.”
Not the mess inside me. But let’s face it. Who’d want to deal with that?
Nora’s expression softens. “He’s just trying to protect you, provide for you. Men like that—they want to handle things, make it easier on us, I guess that’s how he shows his love.”
“Maybe.” I shrug again, trying to shake off the heaviness settling in my chest.
It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t look deeper. The last thing I want is for him to see me unraveling. If he saw the real me—the mess, the fear—he’d probably decide it’s too much. I’m too much.
Nora’s eyes are gentle in the candlelight. “You two have so much history. It’s hard not to believe you’re made for one another.”
“But he hasn’t seen every side of me. Not really.” The words come out before I can stop them. I clamp my lips closed, regretting the slip, but Nora just reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re harder on yourself than anyone I’ve ever met. You don’t need to be perfect.”
“I know.” But even as I say it, that part of me—the one desperate to be the woman my mom always wanted me to be—resists. It’s one thing to say the words, another to believe them.
“And Jake isn’t looking for perfection. He’s looking for you. So, don’t be afraid to let him in. Give him a chance to see the real you.”
The words settle into me, utterly terrifying. Part of me wonders if she’s right. I want to believe her, to trust that Jake sees something in me worth staying for. But hope is fragile tonight.
I can’t shake the fear gnawing at the back of my mind. The fear that if Jake truly knew me, saw the seething mass of anxious thoughts and doubts and worries, he’d turn and walk away, just like he did all those years ago.