TWENTY-SEVEN Quincy
“Quincy.”
My name is soft, hushed, pulled from a dream. I sigh at the reverence behind the word.
“Quincy.”
Louder this time, and I keep my eyes shut. I bury my face in the mass beside me and try to block out the noise. Whatever I’m lying against is too firm to be a pillow, but it makes up for it in warmth. The familiar sensation of someplace that feels like home. So perfect, I never want to leave.
A gentle laugh. Fingers running through my hair and a hand on my nape. A whispered, “Sweetheart” that causes me to stir and stretch my arms above my head, pulled back to reality.
I blink and take in my surroundings. It’s dark around me. The only source of light is the flicker of a dying candle. There’s tiled bathroom walls and a vanity to my left. Arms wrapped around my stomach and a tattoo I’ve traced two dozen times.
Sebastian.
It comes back to me in flashes. Making it back to our room. The power going out and the candles we lit so we could see. Huddling in the bathtub when it sounded like a tree crashed through the window on the other side of the door and writing our names on our arms in case we got separated.
“Hi.” I clear my throat, voice scratchy. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yeah.” He brushes away the hair sticking to the back of my neck. My skin is cool from dried sweat, and I shiver when he presses a kiss to the curve of my shoulder. “For about an hour. For the record, you do snore, Monroe. And you’re louder than the winds.”
“Shut up.” I stretch out my legs and flex my ankles. There’s not much room to move, the porcelain tub barely big enough to fit both of us, but I take advantage of the space I have. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up.”
“You’re exhausted. I’m surprised it took you so long to fall asleep.”
“Why is it so quiet?”
“The weather radio said the eye is making landfall now. The winds stopped ten minutes ago.”
“Oh my god.” I struggle to stand on shaky legs. I reach for the door, but Sebastian’s fingers fold over my wrist, stopping me. “What are you doing?”
“Let me go first.” He nudges me out of the way and pulls a pocketknife off his belt loop. “Please.”
“A knife? Do you think we’re going to encounter wildlife out there?”
“It’s Florida, Quincy. There could be a bobcat roaming the lobby for all we know.”
“This isn’t the time for chivalry.”
“It is when we don’t know what’s on the other side of this door.
” His other hand curls around my chin. He tilts my head back until we’re staring at each other.
The light of the candle dances across his face, and he looks like he’s glowing.
Something out of this world. “There could be rising water. Glass everywhere. Fuck knows what else, and I don’t want you to get hurt. This will only take a second.”
I want to be defiant and challenge him, but the concern behind his gaze makes a rush of affection wisp through me. He wants to make sure I’m going to be okay because he cares about me.
And I care about him too.
“Okay,” I finally say. “But can you be quick, please? We don’t have much time, and I don’t want to get stuck out there again.”
Sebastian leans in close. Brushes his lips against my cheek and smiles against my skin. “Anything for you, Quinny baby,” he whispers, and my heart flip-flops in my chest.
He grabs the flashlight sitting on the vanity and opens the bathroom door. I watch him disappear into the dark, holding my breath as his footsteps grow quieter and quieter, the beam from the light getting weaker.
It’s eerie being in here alone, not a sound except my breathing, and I count to pass the time. It’s better than stewing over what might be happening where I can’t see, and I get all the way to two hundred before the beam from Sebastian’s flashlight grows bright again.
“It’s not pretty out there,” he says. “Windows are shattered. A tree is halfway in the room. The roof is making sounds that has me thinking it’ll blow off after the eye passes through. Water levels are rising across the street. It’ll reach the building here soon.”
“I’m going outside,” I say.
“The fuck you are.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission.”
“I know you weren’t, but don’t you think that’s a really fucking stupid thing to do? We barely got out the first time.”
“Of course it’s stupid!” I cry out. “All this is stupid, but isn’t that the point?
We came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to hide in a hotel room.
It was to get footage so we can educate people.
So we can study the storm’s impact on the area, which will help us be better prepared the next time a Category 5 hurricane heads for the state.
Our goddamn government agencies can’t get things right. Who are people going to rely on?”
Sebastian tips his head back. Flexes his hand at his side and glares at the ceiling. “I’m not happy about this.”
“Want to make a towel leash so I don’t run off?”
“Tying you up? I wouldn’t be opposed.” He brushes his fingers against my jaw, letting out a sigh. “If we go back out there, I want you to be so fucking careful, Quincy. We’re going inside earlier than last time. I’m not losing you because we decided to take a picture of a palm tree in the wind.”
“Funny.” I stand on my toes, my lips brushing against his. “You’re making it sound like you care about me.”
“I do care about you.” He plays with the ends of my damp hair, twirling them around his finger. “And here I was thinking it was obvious as hell.”
I blow out a breath. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to feel like I’m anchored to something. To him, because my feet are dangerously close to coming off the ground.
“Jury is still out on how I feel about you,” I say. “Check back in a few weeks.”
Everything else feels too permanent, too far beyond the just fucking agreement we made.
Somewhere over the last few times we’ve stumbled into bed together, the lines have started to blur.
It’s all complicated. A convoluted tangle of feelings, because how else do you explain why I’m short of breath when he’s around?
How else would you justify my excitement when he sleeps over, waking me up with a hand on my stomach and rolling his hips into my ass?
How else would you reason why my heart skips when he’s nearby?
Because you like him, my brain whispers. Very much, my heart adds.
I shove the thought away.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Sebastian opens the bathroom door wider. “If I tell you to run, you need to run, Quincy. Don’t wait for me. Don’t look back. You run until you’re somewhere safe.”
The severity of what we’re about to do—again—settles in.
We might die.
It’s always a possibility in our line of work.
We saw it firsthand with the tornado we experienced and earlier, with the debris that almost knocked us out.
But considering we’re in the middle of one of nature’s most deadly forces, the understanding and acceptance of mortality nudges its way into my thoughts.
We really might die.
But it’s okay.
If the world ends tonight, I’d go out happy.
Scared, terrified, but happy, and without any regrets.
My body against his, heartbeats synchronized.
A sheen of sweat on my forehead and the slightest shake in my palm.
My soul split wide open for him to see. I know out of every second I’ve spent on this planet, these here with him, an unknown future ahead of us, are the best I’ll ever have.
No one knows me like Sebastian does, and I’m not sure anyone ever will.
“Okay,” I manage to whisper. “But please don’t let go of me.”
“It will take God himself to separate me from you.” Sebastian’s forehead presses against mine. His breath dances across my face. I’m calm. Momentarily safe. “And even then, I would go down with a fight.”
His fingers lace in mine when we step out of the room. The hallway is pitch-black, the carpet damp, and we each hold a flashlight to illuminate the way.
“There’s another door down this way,” he says.
It takes both of us using our shoulders to shove open the side door that leads outside, the sandbags in front of the glass doing their job to keep water out. When I step into the grass, I stop in my tracks.
It’s quiet.
End-of-the-world, humanity-wiped-out quiet.
No rain, no wind.
Even the clouds have disappeared.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
Now that I can see, the damage is insurmountable.
It looks like a bomb went off and wiped out half the block.
Trees are down. Thirty-foot palms and three-hundred-year-old oaks lie like matches on the ground, snapped in two.
The gas station across the road has crumbled, leaving nothing but the remains of its foundation.
The main road is flooded, the water inching closer to our building, and a car is upturned in a ditch on the right.
“I’ve chased a lot of hurricanes.” Sebastian pulls me to him, my back flush against his front, and his arm folds over the top of my chest. “But I’ve never been directly in the eye. It’s …”
“Mesmerizing,” I finish for him. “It’s cruel how something so destructive can be so alarmingly peaceful. God, it’s beautiful. Haunting, but beautiful. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” he says. I turn my chin, glancing at him. He’s not looking at anything but me. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I suck in a sharp breath knowing he’s not talking about the storm. Not anymore.
Only me.
You care about him, too, the tiny voice whispers, and I step away, trying to grapple with the understanding.
“Watch out for wires,” Sebastian calls out. “The rain could start back any minute.”
I heed his warning and forge ahead, careful when I maneuver over to the palm tree in front of our room. It’s still standing, our cameras intact, and the footage is going to be unbelievable.
“How long do you think we have?” I ask.
“The eye wall is eight miles wide. Georgianna is moving at eighteen miles an hour, so twenty-seven minutes before the eye passes over us. We lost ten minutes already, so we only have about ten more before we need to head back.”
“This is—”