TWENTY-FOUR Quincy #2
I tap his name and press the phone to my ear. It rings twice, and I grip the edge of the counter when he answers.
“Hey,” he draws out. I can hear him smiling on the other end of the line. It’s tired and soft, the same one he tucked into my shoulder two nights ago when he dragged me away from my computer and forced me into bed to sleep for an hour.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Do you miss me?” His laugh is the only comfort I can find right now. Steady, warm. Something that’s started to feel like home. “Because I miss you.”
“Where are you?”
There’s a long pause. A door closes, and I hear the creak of a chair. “I’m at WCPT in Orlando. A friend of mine is one of their meteorologists, and he invited me down to watch their coverage this morning. Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’ll explain everything, but I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Pull up Georgianna’s track. Tell me if you notice something unusual. I’ll be there soon.”
“Quincy.” My name, tinted with worry. Anguish behind each syllable. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I breathe out. “And you won’t be either.”
We hang up, and I glance at my friends. If they have any questions about that call, they don’t ask, and I’m glad. Mia stands, walks toward me, and gives me a hug.
“Go,” she says softly. “We’ll be okay. Even with the change in the path, we’re not in an evacuation zone. My house is prepared, and you have bigger things to worry about.”
“Please be safe. Get to where you need to be early.” My attention moves to Harlow. Her eyes are wide; her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. I feel her nervousness from over here. “I love y’all.”
I’m numb on the drive to the news station. I don’t remember the route I take. I don’t remember if there’s traffic or how long I sit at each stoplight. It speeds past me in a blur of colors and flashes of light. In car horns and shaky hands when I find a parking spot next to a WCPT news van.
Time moves exponentially fast and painstakingly slow at the same time as I sprint toward the building. Each step feels like a mile, my exhaustion replaced with fearful urgency. There’s a stitch in my side when I stumble into the lobby and take a deep breath.
Ahead, someone is pacing. Hunched shoulders, hand curled into a fist. They walk back and forth over the linoleum floor, checking their phone and glancing up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.
Sebastian.
“Hi,” I call out.
He stops mid-step and turns his head. Dark blue eyes lock with mine. There’s a moment when everything stands still. We stare at each other, unmoving. He blinks, and then he’s charging toward me. He’s putting his hands on my shoulder, my cheeks. Tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling me close.
“You’re freaking me out.” Sebastian searches my face. He drops his gaze to my arms, my feet. He checks me over, looking for any signs of injury and distress. “What couldn’t you tell me over the phone? What had to wait? Talk to me, sweetheart. Please. We’re on the same team.”
The pain behind his ask rattles me, an ache I feel down in my bones. I put my hands on his chest, relieved to feel his heart beating fast.
“I’m okay,” I croak. My throat is dry, each word tasting like chalk. “My phone died, and this is something we need to talk about in person. Did you look at Georgianna’s track?”
“Yes.” His throat bobs. “I did.”
“You see the shift in her trajectory too,” I say, and he gives me a slow nod. “Has anyone else figured it out?”
“I’ve been out in the hall looking at data, but I doubt it. We would know if they did.”
“We should—we have to tell them.”
“Come on. I’ll show you where everyone is.
” He grasps my hand, fingers slotting in mine.
When he moves his thumb over the inside of my wrist, I let myself imagine a life like this every summer with him.
Tracking hurricanes. Long days, warm nights.
Absolute perfection with someone who’s become my favorite person in the world. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No. I’m fine.”
It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
I’m nowhere near fine. How can I be when a single question has haunted me since I noticed the deviation in Hurricane Georgianna’s path?
What if we’re wrong and fuck everything up?
A thousand forecast models could be run, but there’s no way to truly know what weather is going to do next. It’s uncontrollable. A force so much bigger than the human mind can comprehend, but I know what I saw, the certainty in my soul.
I’ve spent years studying hurricanes. Learning how they move, how they interact with other systems that affect their path. They’re a part of me, written in my blood like they belong in my DNA, and this storm isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before.
That’s what terrifies me the most.
I know my feet are moving. I know I’m following Sebastian, but I’m in a daze.
A door opens. There’s a hand on the small of my back, swift and steady.
An encouraging nudge that propels me into a room full of people, and I snap out of my trance when someone clears their throat.
Blinking back to reality is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but all of this is so much bigger than me.
Every second we spend standing here is a second wasted, and we’re already racing against borrowed time.
Inhale confidence, exhale doubt.
I can do this.