NINE Quincy #2
“Please.” I tap his phone, wondering when this call is going to come through.
The screen lights up, and I study the wallpaper.
It’s a picture of him, Nate, and Cooper at the beach.
Bright blue water behind them, their heads tipped back.
They look younger. There’s a vanilla ice cream cone in Sebastian’s hand.
A seagull at his feet and Nate on Cooper’s back. “I don’t think about you at all.”
“For the record, I’m not dating half of New York.”
“A quarter.”
“Not quite.” He tries to peel his shirt away from his chest, but it only clings more possessively to his body.
I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. “Haven’t found anyone who catches my eye.
Knowing the definition of a haboob is a must, and most women think it’s a sex position.
They’re pretty disappointed when they find out it’s an intense dust storm. ”
“Maybe it’s not disappointment. Maybe it’s relief they don’t have to sleep with you.”
“Damn, Monroe. Thanks for tossing my self-confidence in the goddamn gutter.”
“I’m sure you’ll recover.”
Sebastian’s phone rings, a New York phone number scrolling across the screen. He gives me a thumbs-up, and for half a reluctant, torturous second, I understand why women fawn over him.
I can’t stand the man, but I can recognize how good-looking he is with his bright eyes and the boylike wonder in his megawatt smile.
He puts an AirPod in his ear, clipping his tiny microphone to his shirt.
A rogue piece of hair falls across his forehead and he leaves it there, the perfect picture of rugged, windswept storm chaser.
“If that’s the studio, you can answer, Pres.” His voice shifts from carefree to professional, the hint of his upbringing tucked away. “I’m ready.”
I slide my thumb across the screen, connecting to the FaceTime call. I flip the camera, putting Sebastian in the shot, then nod his way.
“Hey, good afternoon y’all. I’m down in Florida, just outside of Miami Beach, where Hurricane Claudia made landfall about three hours ago.
I’m currently in the eye, which is why it’s so quiet around me, but hurricane force winds and heavy rain are expected to pick back up in the next thirty minutes.
Early reports are suggesting close to fifty thousand homes are without power, and we’re working with NOAA and the NWS to see if the storm producing rotation in the outer bands of Claudia had a verified tornado touchdown. ”
There’s a long pause. I can only hear one side of the conversation, but Sebastian nods, staring at the camera.
“Exactly. And I get it. You look outside and see that the rain and wind have let up. You’re antsy to check out any damage in the surrounding area, but local officials are urging people to stay indoors until the storm passes.
We are under a state of emergency, and you have the danger of downed power lines and loose, saturated branches that are susceptible to falling.
Don’t approach any body of water. Flooding is our biggest concern with this system.
Those lampposts behind me have almost disappeared.
Is half of that the storm surge from the bay making its way onto the street that will retreat once Claudia works across the state?
Yeah, but regardless, that’s a bad situation, and—”
A bloodcurdling scream pierces the air. I almost drop his phone, jerking my chin up in an attempt to find the source of the noise.
Sebastian turns, and that’s when I see it.
There’s a car stuck in the water, and someone is inside.
“Is that—”
“I have rope in my bag.” I point to where we ditched our stuff in an attempt to keep our supplies dry. “There’s a tree there.”
Sebastian moves on instinct, sprinting up the hill with long, purposeful strides. He digs through my backpack until he finds what he’s looking for, holding a climbing rope above his head. On the phone screen, someone sits behind a news desk, almost frozen.
“Tie it to the trunk,” Sebastian barks out, tossing one end of the rope my way.
I shove his phone in my pocket, the camera facing out.
My hands shake. I’m about to apologize for not moving fast enough, but he’s there.
Large palms folding over mine. Making a knot and pulling tight. “There you go. That’s good, Quincy.”
There’s no time to ask what his plan is.
I don’t have to.
I see it unfolding in real time: the loop he ties around his middle.
The hat he tosses to the side, landing in a small puddle.
The swift way he charges toward the vehicle before I can stop him, the water rising from his ankles to halfway up his thighs.
Sebastian trudges forward until he’s drenched up to his mid-chest, and I’m not sure I’m breathing.
Sensations I’ve never experienced before take up residence in the space behind my ribs.
Utter and complete fear.
Desperation to help but clueless as to how.
Awe.
The car isn’t far, but it feels like hours pass before he comes to a stop in the water.
When he does, he struggles with the driver’s-side door, yanking on it until it gives and he can wedge it open.
A bag is slung over his head. A dog is heaved into his hold, and a woman throws her arms around his neck.
I’m afraid to blink, worried if I let him out of my sight, he’ll go under and not come back up.
Seconds tick by. The rope pulls taut, and I watch the pair.
Sebastian turns back my way, movements slow like he’s fighting through quicksand.
As he gets closer, I see they’re all drenched down to their bones.