5. The Unauthorized Porch Project #2
Even if avoiding it means going out into the storm that's finally on its way.
***
By the time I pull into the parking lot of Seabreeze Market & Goods, the wind has picked up enough to fling grit across my windshield.
The sky has gone from stubborn gray to someone turned down the saturation on the entire world.
A few cars are parked crooked across the lot, like their owners rushed inside and forgot basic steering etiquette.
I shove my keys into my pocket and hurry toward the entrance, bracing myself for the panic-buyers who have apparently been granted a second opportunity thanks to the storm's delayed arrival.
The second I step inside, I let out a breath of relief.
It's not that bad.
The store is busier than usual, but at least no one appears to be fighting over sandbags or bottled water. This is the quieter, more determined kind of panic-buying, where everyone moves with purpose and avoids eye contact.
I grab a basket from the stack near the entrance.
Three steps later, I regret not taking a cart.
Then I regret regretting it.
The aisles in Seabreeze Market were designed for a time when people were apparently much smaller and didn't believe in personal space. Trying to maneuver a cart through here would be its own kind of natural disaster.
Not that a cart would help much anyway.
I turn into the first aisle and stop.
The shelves have been raided.
The snack section has gaps where all the good stuff used to be. Most of the flashlights are gone, leaving behind a handful of tiny keychain versions that might help me locate a keyhole but probably won't do much when the entire house goes dark.
Ben would be horrified.
I shift the basket higher against my hip and head toward the small household section.
Maybe I can at least find candles.
"Claire?"
I freeze mid-step.
Then turn.
Maya Patel rounds the end of the aisle with a hand basket of her own.
"Did all the flashlights that were supposed to be in your house run away too?" she asks, glancing pointedly at my flashlight-less basket.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
"Either that or someone broke into the house while I was gone and stole them. Along with all the candles I thought we had."
Maya raises an eyebrow.
"They left the electronics, though," I add. "So at least I have those."
"Which will be useless if the power goes out."
"True." I nod thoughtfully. "Apparently, candle theft is much more practical in Tidehaven."
Maya smiles, but her expression turns serious a moment later.
"Are you alone at the house? Or is your friend from yesterday staying with you?"
I hesitate.
Only for a second.
Apparently, that's long enough for Maya's nurse instincts to activate.
"I'm alone," I admit. "June left last night."
Maya glances toward the front windows before looking back at me.
"If the storm gets worse than they're predicting, you can come to my place. I have a generator, and—"
"That's really nice."
I say it a little too quickly.
"But I'll be okay. I have a lot to do at the house anyway."
The truth is, I'm not ready to be trapped inside someone else's home, trying to make conversation and pretending I'm fine.
I'm also not particularly excited about being alone.
One of life's many charming little Catch-22s.
Maya gives me the look.
The nurse look.
The one that says I hear what you're saying, but I don't believe a word of it.
Thankfully, she doesn't push.
"My number is still the same. If you change your mind, call me."
A lump forms in my throat for reasons I refuse to examine too closely.
"I will. Thanks."
Maya glances at her phone and winces.
"I should get going. The clinic has a few patients who insisted on coming in today because apparently storms inspire everyone to schedule their emergencies."
"Tidehaven never changes."
I smile despite myself.
"Sure doesn't."
She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"Call me if you need anything, Claire. Seriously."
I nod.
This time, I mean it.
"Thanks, Maya. I will."
She gives me one last smile before heading toward the registers.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the shelves like I've completely forgotten why I'm here.
"Candles," I mutter.
Right.
I continue toward the household section.
I round the endcap—
And stop so abruptly my basket bumps into a shelf.
Because there, in the middle of the aisle, is Jack Wilder.
Of course.
His head lifts at the sound.
His eyes find mine.
And the glare settles into place like it's been waiting all day for me to appear.
My mouth opens.
Closes.
Then opens again.
"You have got to be kidding me."
I try to come up with something more intelligent.
Nothing arrives.
Jack's brow furrows.
"What?"
"You."
I gesture at him with my basket because apparently that's the best I can do.
"You're supposed to be at my house."
The words leave my mouth before I fully process them.
Jack's eyebrows lift.
I lower my voice.
"Fixing the steps that don't need fixing."
"They do need fixing."
"Debatable."
"Not as badly now," he says. "But what I did was temporary."
I narrow my eyes.
"Did you follow me here?"
His glare deepens.
It's honestly impressive.
"There are limited places to buy anything in Tidehaven."
"So?"
"I figured you were buying food."
I wait.
"The grocery store would've been the logical choice," he continues. "So I came here."
I stare at him.
"Oh."
That actually makes sense.
Which is inconvenient.
"So you're avoiding me."
I almost smile.
Almost.
Jack turns back toward the shelf like this conversation has reached its natural conclusion.
"If you're planning to go to the grocery store too, I'd recommend getting what you need here and heading home."
I stare at the back of his head.
"And now you're telling me what to do."
He turns around again.
"I'm not telling you what to do."
"It sounds a lot like you're telling me what to do."
"I'm telling you there's a storm coming, and you're wasting time arguing with me in aisle three."
I lift an eyebrow.
"Aisle four."
Jack pauses.
His eyes flick toward the small sign hanging above us.
Then back to me.
"Fine."
The word sounds physically painful.
"Aisle four."
I smile.
Just a little.
His glare returns in full force.
"Just get what you need, Claire."
"Fine."
I turn toward the candles.
"But if I can't find enough food here, I might go to the grocery store."
I glance back at him.
"If you show up there too, I'm filing for a restraining order."
Jack stares at me.
I'm only half joking.
Probably.
Maybe he'd already been packing up his tools when I left. Maybe he's telling the truth about choosing Seabreeze because he assumed I'd go to the grocery store.
That would make sense.
Unfortunately.
I start down the aisle, then toss one last look over my shoulder.
"Have a good day."
Jack's expression immediately turns suspicious.
I smile sweetly.
"And leave my porch swing alone."
I turn and walk away before he can respond.
But as I head toward the food aisles, I can feel his gaze following me.
For some reason, I don't hate it as much as I probably should.