Chapter 45
Jake
I wake up with a dull ache pounding in the back of my skull from too little sleep and too much worry. Peeling my eyes open, I force myself from the warmth of my bed.
Looking outside, the aftermath of last night’s storm isn’t looking great. The front yard is littered with broken branches, twisted and piled, skeletal debris. A few larger limbs have split off and lie half-buried in the snow.
The fence has taken a beating, leaning awkwardly, and one whole section looks as though it’s barely holding on, sagging under the weight of snow and wind damage. Trenches and drifts of snow pile haphazardly against anything in their path. Small bushes lie flattened, almost buried under mounds of icy powder.
Beyond the yard, the street is visible, a line of snowbanks, vehicles covered in snow, and fallen shrubs and mailboxes that give the whole scene an eerie, deserted feeling. Everything looks fragile and battered, and I wonder how much more the storm will cost us—repairs, cleanup, and then trying to get the festival itself across the line, if anything can even be salvaged.
Rubbing the weariness from my face, I grab my phone off the nightstand. I tap out a quick message to Kelly. “Morning, beautiful. Will call soon. Miss you.” I linger over the screen before hitting send, wishing we were together and I could just take her mind off all this storm-induced stress.
Next I send a text to Lucy, and she replies straight away, letting me know Mom and Dad are okay.
I pocket the phone and head down the hallway, the floorboards creaking. Adele’s door is slightly ajar, and I knock gently before pushing it open. She’s curled up in her bed looking at something on her phone, the screen’s glow the only light in the darkened room, her brown hair a tangled mess. Tiger is asleep at the foot of her bed.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say softly as I lean against the bedroom door frame, trying to find the right words to break through the tension that’s been there since yesterday.
She doesn’t look up. Everything about her posture screams, Leave me alone.
“How are you doing this morning?”
“Fine.” The word is cold, clipped.
I hesitate, the wall between us is solid, almost unbreakable. “You’re mad at me. About what I did. But I couldn’t just stand by and let those boys treat you like that. It’s not right.”
“You could’ve talked to me first,” she says.
I rub my hand over my face, sighing. “You’re right. I should’ve talked to you. I just—” I pause, grasping for the right words. “I just wanted to fix it for you, so those boys wouldn’t keep hurting you.”
Finally, she turns, fixing me with a glare that’s equal parts anger and hurt. “Do you even get what you’ve done?” she snaps. “Everyone will think I showed you those messages.”
“Adele, this is not on you. None of it.” I step a little further into the room, but she pulls her knees in closer—she can’t get far enough away from me. “I just wanted to protect you. I’m your dad.”
“Maybe I don’t need protecting,” she says, and there’s such a weight to her words, such hurt. “At least not like this. I’m not a little kid. We could have talked about the best thing to do. But now you’ve ruined everything.”
I move to the window, pulling the curtains back. Light floods in, spilling over the bed, but it doesn’t make anything clearer. I’m struggling to find a way through this. “Look, this isn’t easy. And I haven’t been great at talking about this stuff. But I’m here now. I’m trying. Just tell me what I can do.”
“You always say you’re trying. But you never actually get it. You don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I wish you would just leave me alone.”
I’m completely out of my depth. “Look, I’ll get some breakfast started. There’s no power so probably some PB&Js.”
“Whatever.”
I head down the hallway to the kitchen and get the bread out of the dark fridge, when my phone starts ringing in my pocket. Nora O’Connor’s name flashes on the screen, and I snatch it up, heart hammering—something tells me this isn't a social call.
“Jake, it's Nora,” she blurts out before I can even say hello. “Kelly just took off into the storm. I’ve been trying to call her, but she’s not answering.”
"What? Why? Where did she go?" But I know even as I ask— the festival grounds . I exhale slowly, trying to will away the worry invading my head. “Stay put, Nora. I'll handle it.”
“Be careful,” she says.
I end the call and try Kelly’s number. Nora’s right. It just rings out. I bring up Jenny’s number. She picks up on the second ring, “Hey, I need you to watch Adele for the day.”
“Is everything okay? I told you we just need to give her some time. It’s good the school knows what’s happened.”
“It’s actually something personal that’s come up. Adele is still angry with me, but this has nothing to do with her.”
“Say no more,” Jenny cuts in. “Bring her here to my moms. You better hurry though, this lull isn’t going to last.”
Adele's standing in the doorway when I turn around, her eyes wide.
“Sweetheart, I’ve got to go out for a bit,” I tell her, trying to keep the concern from creeping into my voice. “Mom’s at Granny’s. I need to drop you there.”
“Again?” Adele’s frown deepens, her arms wrapping protectively around herself. “Why can't I just stay home? I’m not a little kid.”
“Because it’s not safe with the storms starting up again.” The truth sits heavy on my tongue. I want to protect Adele, keep her from adult concerns, but maybe this time the truth’s warranted. “Look, Kelly headed out into the storm. She’s upset about the festival installations I’ve been working on getting damaged. I need to help her.”
Surprise flickers across Adele’s features, followed by an unexpected nod. “It’s not a good idea for her to be out there by herself.”
“No, it’s not. But she’d do anything to keep this festival from falling apart. And I’d do anything to keep her safe. Just like I’d do anything to keep you safe. Can you pack a bag? You might be at Granny’s overnight.”
She disappears to her room only to return a few minutes later, Tiger cradled in her arms, a small bag slung over her shoulder.
“Thanks for understanding,” I say, ushering her toward the door.
She follows, quiet as she climbs into the truck with Tiger while I clear the snow. As we pull away, more snow starts to fall, swirling in the growing wind.
“Is Kelly going to be okay?”
“Kelly’s tough,” I reply, but I’m not sure who I'm trying to convince more—her or me. “She’ll be fine.”
“Good,” she says as she traces patterns in the condensation. “I hope so.”
We reach her grandmother's house, and there’s smoke coming from the chimney. Heat spills out from the open door as Jenny lets her in. Adele pauses to look back at me.
“Be safe, Dad,” she says, and something about the way she says it, so grown-up, so full of care, makes my heart twist.
“Always am, kiddo.” I pull her into a hug, fierce and quick.
“Tell Kelly I said hi,” she adds, managing a wobbly smile before turning to head inside.
Then I’m alone, driving through the snow, my mind on Kelly and the next storm that’s bearing down on us. She’s out there because she’s carrying too much on her own. She puts so much pressure on herself, the weight of every project, every detail—and she’s always been like that. Even when we were kids, she’d push herself to breaking point, and no one could tell her to ease up. Not even me.
She needs more than what I’m giving her. And the thought terrifies me, makes my stomach churn as I press the gas a little harder.
When I finally pull up to the festival grounds, it’s clear we don’t have long till the next storm hits. I scan the grounds for Kelly, and my breath catches when I see her. She’s fighting with a shattered section of the main stage, her gloved hands struggling to get a grip on the broken, icy beams.
I step out of the truck, the cold hitting me immediately despite my jacket. I try calling her name, but the wind rips the sound right out of my mouth, and I start to trudge toward her, each step slower than the last as I take in the destruction around me. The installations my team built—the hours spent cutting, sanding, securing every damn piece—lie scattered across the ground.
Pieces of the archway are buried in snow, tarps flapping uselessly against the wind, broken benches half-buried, splintered beyond saving.
It’s all in ruins.