Chapter 3
I gripped my phone and grabbed my keys off the counter, already moving toward the door.
Stormie’s voice was still in my head–that edge of panic she tried to play off with jokes, like I couldn’t hear the real worry underneath.
Six years, and I could read her like a book she didn’t know she’d left open.
I snatched my black hoodie off the back of the couch, pulled it over my head, and checked my reflection in the hallway mirror out of habit.
Fresh fade, beard lined up clean. The gray joggers I’d thrown on earlier hung low on my hips, and yeah, I knew Storm noticed shit like that even when she pretended not to.
I noticed things too, more than I should’ve.
The weather alert on my phone lit up as I locked the door behind me–severe thunderstorm warning, possible flash flooding, all that dramatic shit. Perfect. Stormie was stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a dead car and the sky about to open.
I jogged down the stairs of my new two-story house, keys jingling in my hand, and hit the unlock button on my key fob.
My Charger’s lights flashed in the parking lot, custom and black and ready.
I slid into the driver’s seat, and the engine purred to life, that deep rumble I never got tired of.
Thirty minutes. I could make it in under twenty if I pushed it.
I pulled up Stomie’s location on my phone, mounted it on the dash, and backed out.
Route 47. Middle of fucking nowhere, just like she said.
The first drops of rain hit my windshield as I turned onto the main road, and I cranked up the wipers.
The thing was, I’d drop everything for Stormie.
Always had. She called, I came. Simple as that.
What wasn’t simple was the way my chest tightened every time I heard her voice.
Or the way I caught myself staring at her mouth when she talked.
Or how I’d spent the last six years trying to convince myself that what I felt was just friendship, just loyalty, just..
. some shit other than what it actually was.
Raw, inconvenient, dangerous-as-hell want.
Stormie was fucking beautiful. Light-skinned, pale enough that every freckle and beauty mark showed.
She had long, dark hair that changed depending on what she wanted it to be, and honey-colored eyes.
She was thick and curved in ways that made me want to grab her and not let go.
Her full lips were heart-shaped, and her voice had a soft edge, sharp but not mean.
I loved the fact that she didn’t do too much.
She always dressed casually, no makeup or jewels unless she was going out with her girls–a true natural beauty.
I turned onto the highway, pushing the Charger faster. The rain was coming down harder now, sheets of it blurring the road ahead. My phone said fifteen more minutes. I’d make it ten.
Storm didn’t know–couldn’t know–that I thought about her in ways that would probably ruin everything we had.
I noticed every little thing about her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
How she always stole the aux cord and played the same five songs on repeat.
The sound of her laugh, the real one she only gave me, not the girly one she used for everyone else.
The way her thick legs looked in those little ass shorts she wore around her apartment sometimes,
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and focused on the road.
This weekend was supposed to be chill. My people’s cabin, a couple of days away from the city, just me and Stormie doing what we always did–talking shit, watching movies, existing in that safe, comfortable space we’d carved out over the years.
Except nothing about being alone with Storm felt safe anymore. Not when I’d spent the last few months catching her looking at me the same way I looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention. Not when the air between us had started feeling heavier.
The GPS said eight minutes. I could see her location getting closer, that little blue dot on the map that meant everything. My phone buzzed with a text.
I smiled and hit the voice command. “Text Storm: Five minutes out.” I laughed, low and quiet in the darkness of my car. She always did that shit–made jokes when she was stressed, deflected with humor instead of admitting she needed help. But I knew her ass very well.
Three minutes now. I could see the stretch of Route 47 ahead, nothing but cornfields and darkness and rain. Then I saw her car on the side of the road, hazards blinking like a distress signal. I pulled up behind her and put the Charger in park, engine still running.
Through the rain-streaked windows, I could see her silhouette in the driver’s seat, phone glowing in her hand. My chest did that stupid shit it does, that tightness that had nothing to do with the drive and everything to do with her.
I grabbed my hood, snatched the umbrella I kept in the back seat, then stepped out into the rain. That shit hit the umbrella immediately, cold and heavy. I jogged to Stormie’s car and tapped on the window. She looked up, and even through the rain and glass, I saw the relief flood her face.
She opened the door, and I stepped back to give her room. “Oh my God, thank you!” she said, climbing out with her hot pink duffle bag.
With the umbrella now over her, the rain thundered down, soaking through my hoodie. I took her bag from her, slinging it over my shoulder. “You a’ight?”
“I am now.” She looked up at me, rain already plastering her hair to her face. “Thank you for coming.”
“Stormie,” I said her name like a statement, like it should be obvious. “You know I’m always gonna come get you.”
The rain poured down between us, and for a second, something shifted in her eyes. Something that looked a lot like the thoughts I’d been trying not to have. Then she smiled, that bright, deflecting smile, and the moment passed.
“Come on,” she tugged on my hoodie. “Let’s get out of this rain before we both drown.”
I opened the passenger door of my car for her, waited until she was inside, then jogged around to the driver’s side. I slid in, tossing her bags and umbrella in the back, water dripping everywhere.
“Jesus, Kade, you’re drenched.” Stormie was already reaching for the towel I kept in the backseat, and before I could stop her, she was leaning over, patting my face dry like I couldn’t do it myself.
Her hands were close. Too fucking close. I could smell her perfume, her usual Marc Jacobs scent that I could never get out of my head. “I got it,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I meant it to. I took the towel from her, our fingers brushing, and I swear I felt that touch everywhere.
She sat back, fastening her seatbelt. “Sorry. I just–you didn’t have to get out in that.”
“What the hell was I gon’ do, make you swim to the car?” I cranked the heat and pulled back onto the road, windshield wipers working overtime. “Besides, you looked pathetic sitting there all alone.”
“Wow. Rude ass.”
“I’m just saying. You had that whole ‘damsel in distress’ vibe going on.”
“I was not in distress. I was strategically waiting for rescue.”
I glanced over at her, and she was grinning, and damn if that didn’t make everything worth it. The rain, the drive, the way my heart was doing double-time just from having her this close. “How bad is the car?” I asked.
“Dead. Like, I think it might have actually given up on life. There was smoke and everything.”
“A’ight, we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Get it towed to Malcolm’s shop.”
“You don’t have…”
“Storm,” I said it firmly, final. “Let me worry about that. Right now, we need to get to the cabin before this shit gets worse.” She was quiet for a second, and I could feel her looking at me in that way she did sometimes, like she was trying to figure something out. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just... thank you. For real.”
I reached over, squeezing her knee once without thinking, and I felt her go still under my hand. Realized what I’d done and pulled back, gripping the steering wheel instead. “That’s what I’m here for,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
The rain hammered down, the cabin was still forty minutes away, and Storm was sitting in my passenger seat smelling like heaven and looking at me like maybe, for once, she felt this shit too. This weekend was going to be a problem. I could feel it already.