Chapter Nine
Parker
“G o fish,” I say as I look at Leia, Sebastian’s six-year-old daughter, across the coffee table.
She huffs in exasperation before coming up on her knees and taking a card from the top of the deck.
Avie is on turtle duty tonight, so Anson and I came to have dinner with her and her dad.
“Your turn,” she says to Anson, who is concentrating on his hand.
“Do you have any eights?” he asks.
She gives him a dirty look as she hands over the eight of hearts and eight of diamonds.
“Thank you, munchkin,” he bellows.
I lean over to her and whisper, “He cheats.” Her eyes go wide and snap to Anson.
“I do not. I’m just the master of Go Fish,” he defends as he lays down four eights.
Sebastian stands from the couch and walks to the front windows for the sixth time since we began the game.
“Any change?” I ask.
“The wind is getting crazy. I don’t like the way it’s looking,” he says.
“Did you try calling her again?”
“Five minutes ago,” he says, his voice laced with worry.
“Maybe we should go out and check on her,” I suggest just as a loud crack of thunder vibrates through the air.
“Yeah, I’m thinking so too.”
He grabs his phone from his pocket and dials his grandmother, Sabel. She and Sebby live across the street.
Ten minutes later, he walks Leia to their house while Anson and I put away leftovers. Then, the three of us raid the closet for rain gear and head to the beach in Sebastian’s Bronco.
We park at the Northeast Fifth Street public access and make our way to the location of the nest that is hatching. A small circle of people, wrapped in a large tarp to protect themselves from the rain, is standing around the foot of the nest. Sebastian walks over to them while Anson and I take a look at the nest.
The sand is fluttering, but there are no babies at the moment.
While Seb speaks to the group, I scan the beach. The waves are darker than usual—a deep gray mixed with a mossy green—churning with foam. As the wind picks up speed, they break closer to the shore and surge further inland, the sound thunderous and echoing across the beach. The horizon is a blur as thick clouds cast a shadow over the tumultuous water, signaling the storm’s rapid approach.
“Looks like this thing is coming in a lot faster than they predicted,” I shout to Anson.
He waves his phone screen in the air. “I just got an emergency alert. The eye is about ten miles away.”
Shit.
“Sebastian, did you hear that? We have about thirty to forty minutes before this thing slams into us,” I shout.
Sebastian jogs to us with his phone to his ear, and his forehead is creased with worry.
“Avie left alone on the ATV about forty-five minutes ago. They say she was going to check on the other nests,” he says, pulling the phone away. “Fuck, she’s still not answering her phone.”
“She probably can’t hear it over the ATV’s motor and the waves. Do they know where those nests are?” I ask.
“Northeast Twelfth, Northeast Twenty-Sixth, Northwest First, and Northwest Eighth,” he replies.
“Okay, she would have likely hit Northeast Twelfth and Northeast Twenty-Sixth already,” Anson surmises. “I bet she’ll head back from there.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “No. She’ll want to make sure the others are okay.”
I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Go. You find Avie, and we’ll get this crowd sent on their way. They need to get to shelter.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll grab her and come back for you guys.”
He takes off running for the Bronco, and we walk over to the volunteers gathered there.
“Thank you for coming out, but everyone needs to head home,” I call. “The storm is rolling in quicker than expected. You have about half an hour to get to shelter.”
They break apart instantly, begin to gather their belongings, and sprint for the parking lot.
“What about the hatchlings?”
I turn toward the familiar voice to see Audrey and Heather approaching. Beach chairs and duffel bags are slung over their backs.
Where did they come from?
“What are you two doing here?” I ask.
Audrey looks down at herself and then at Heather before returning her eyes to me.
“What does it look like? We’re here to see the turtles hatch,” she says.
Huh, I didn’t figure them to be nest watchers.
“Well, the viewing party is over for tonight, ladies. There’s no time to wait for them,” I say.
“But they’re out,” Audrey says, gesturing toward the nest.
I follow her gaze to where the nest sat undisturbed ten minutes ago to see what looks to be around a hundred or so baby turtles.
I glance back at the raging sea.
Fuck .
“Hopefully, they’ll be okay, but you two need to get moving,” I instruct.
“The storm is blocking the moonlight. They won’t be able to find their way,” Heather cries.
Anson and I share a look. We both know we should send the girls for cover. We both also know by the looks on their faces that we’ll probably have to drag them kicking and screaming.
“Do you have extra flashlights?” I ask.
Heather digs into the bag on her hip and fishes out two flashlights with red filters. She hands one to me and Anson.
The girls drop their cargo, and the four of us begin coaxing the little creatures toward the raging water.
Thunder roars overhead, and the rain gains strength. Each drop feels like a nail hammering into our skin. And even though they probably won’t survive the rough surf, we use the flashlights to guide them toward the ocean anyway.
I pull my phone from my jacket pocket as we settle into the back seat of Audrey’s car.
The four of us are soaked to the bone.
“You guys have heated seats. Just press the button by the vents,” Audrey says.
Anson turns them on and adjusts the vents as I call Sebastian’s phone.
“Hey, Park.”
“Hey, man. Did you find her?” I ask.
“Yeah. We just left the last nest and are returning to where we left the ATV on the sidewalk off Northwest First Street. I need to secure it, but I don’t have a way to load it on my truck.”
“Our place isn’t far from there. We’ll come to you. I’ll drive the ATV to the condo. We can put it in our garage for the night.”
“Good plan. Hurry, man. This storm is going to hit land at any minute,” he says.
I click off the call and catch Audrey’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“We need to get to Northwest First Street.”
“You’re not seriously going to get on an ATV, are you?” she asks.
“If I don’t, floodwaters are going to carry it off,” I say.
“If you do, this storm could carry you off,” she grits out.
I smile. “Worried about me?”
Her reflection scowls back at me. “Worried I’ll lose another employee,” she retorts.
“I’ll be fine, baby. It’s not far, but we need to go.”
She shakes her head, throws the car into drive, and races out of the parking lot.
When we make it to Sebastian’s Bronco, I jump out.
I step to Audrey’s driver’s window and knock, and she lowers the window a crack.
“Switch places with Anson,” I command.
“No way. This is my baby,” she says.
“We don’t have time to argue, Tiger. Let Anson drive.”
“I have this,” she says.
Sebastian flashes his headlights.
Fuck. Stubborn woman.
“Fine. When I start rolling, tuck in between me and the Bronco. Slow and steady.”
“Slow and steady,” she repeats as she clutches the steering wheel nervously with both hands.
I sprint to meet Sebastian on the sidewalk, where the ATV belonging to the rescue sits. He hands me the keys and tells me to be careful. Then, he hops back into the Bronco. I start the engine and pull out onto the road. Audrey falls in behind me and is followed by Seb. We form a tight caravan as I lead us toward home.
By the time we reach our block, the wind is so strong that I can barely control the steering. Audrey’s car flies past me, and I see her stop in front of the condo. Anson exits the back passenger door and races to the keypad to open the garage door. He waits by the door as I finally make it and pull the machine as close to the rear wall as possible. Then, he waves for Audrey to back her car in.
She and Heather get out, and the four of us head upstairs just as Sebastian parks under the house and leads Avie up behind us.
Once we’re all safely herded into the living room, I let out the breath I was holding.