31. Billie
Billie
" Y ou need to get out of there now," Gage's voice was tense over the phone, barely audible over the sound of wind already howling through the trees outside the rehabilitation center. "This isn't just a storm, Bills. The weather service just issued a severe weather warning. Possible tornadoes."
I looked out the window at the chaos already unfolding. Trees bending at impossible angles, debris flying through the air, rain driving sideways so hard I could barely see the parking lot. "I know, but I can't just leave all this equipment unsecured. If the windows blow out..."
"Forget the equipment!" His voice was sharp with worry. "The horses are going crazy, and Booker needs help getting them into the barns before this gets worse. But I'm not doing anything until I know you're safe and on your way home."
"I'm almost done," I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt as I rushed around moving portable therapy units away from the large windows.
The building was already groaning under the force of the wind, and I could hear things hitting the roof.
Branches, probably, or worse. "Just give me ten more minutes to. .."
A massive gust of wind rattled the entire building, and something crashed outside that sounded like a tree going down.
"Billie, get out now!" Gage's voice was nearly drowned out by the static on the line. "This thing is moving fast and it's getting worse. Leave everything and come home."
"Okay, okay, I'm going." I abandoned the equipment I'd been securing and grabbed my keys and purse. "I'm leaving right now."
"Drive carefully. The ranch road is still going to be bad but at least you don't have far to go. If it's too much, go to Booker's place instead." His voice was breaking up, the connection crackling with interference. "I love you."
"I love you too. Go help Booker, but be careful. Please."
The line went dead just as another violent gust shook the building.
I should have left then, but we'd only just received the new scanning equipment and it had taken Xander months to even secure the order in the first place. It would only take me five minutes to move it into the store room in the center of the building where it was likely to get damaged.
I looked at the door, indecision warring inside me. I knew I was going to catch hell from Gage for this, but I couldn't just leave it. We had so many patients that would benefit from us having access to that machine.
Five minutes turned into ten and then ten minutes turned into twenty as I rushed around the center, securing equipment and making sure all the windows were properly sealed.
By the time I finished, the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was howling through the trees outside like something alive and furious.
I grabbed my keys and purse, locked up the center, and ran for my car.
The rain soaked me instantly, driving so hard it felt like needles against my skin.
I instantly knew I'd made a stupid mistake.
This wasn't the gentle winter shower the weather forecast had predicted this morning.
This was something violent and unpredictable.
My hands shook as I started the engine, already thinking about Gage out there in this chaos, trying to wrangle terrified horses in conditions that were getting worse by the minute. What if a tree fell? What if lightning struck? What if...
Stop, I told myself firmly. He's with Booker. They both know what they're doing.
The drive home was a nightmare from the start. The rain was so heavy my windshield wipers couldn't keep up, and the wind was strong enough to rock my small sedan. Branches littered the road, and twice I had to slow to a crawl to navigate around debris.
I was halfway to the cottage when I saw the tree falling.
It happened in slow motion. A massive oak, its roots probably weakened by all the recent rain, tilting slowly toward the road.
I hit the brakes and swerved instinctively, but there wasn't enough time or space.
The tree crashed across the road not ten feet in front of me, and my car skidded sideways off the ranch road and into the ditch that ran beside it.
The impact wasn't hard, but it was enough to kill the engine. I turned the key frantically, but nothing happened. The car was well and truly dead.
"Come on," I whispered, trying again. "Come on, please."
Nothing.
I pulled out my phone to call for help, but there was no signal. No bars at all. I was stranded, in the middle of a storm that seemed to be getting worse by the minute, with no way to contact anyone.
The panic hit me then, swift and overwhelming. Gage didn't know where I was. He'd be expecting me at the cottage by now. And he was out there somewhere in this, exposed and vulnerable, helping Booker with animals that were probably just as terrified as I was.
What if something happened to him? What if other trees were coming down, or he got hurt trying to help a panicked horse?
What if I never saw him again? What if the last thing I ever said to him was "I won't be long" when I should have said how much I loved him, how he was the best thing that had ever happened to me, how I couldn't imagine my life without him?
I tried starting the car again. And again. The engine didn't even turn over.
The wind rocked my little sedan, and I could hear branches snapping and crashing somewhere in the darkness beyond my headlights. I'd never felt so small and helpless in my life.
That's when I saw lights in my rearview mirror.
A truck was pulling up behind me, hazard lights flashing through the rain. My heart leaped with hope, then nearly stopped when I saw who was getting out.
Gage. Running through the driving rain toward my car like his life depended on reaching me.
I fumbled with the door lock, my hands shaking so badly I could barely manage it. Then his arms were around me, pulling me from the car and against his chest, and I felt like I could finally breathe again.
"Gage!" I gasped against his shoulder. "Oh my God, I was so scared. The car just died, and my phone has no signal, and I didn't know if you were okay..."
"I'm here," he said fiercely, his arms tightening around me. The rain soaked us both instantly, but I didn't care. He was safe. He was here. "I'm here, baby. I've got you."
I was shaking, whether from cold or fear or relief, I couldn't tell. Probably all three. "I kept thinking about you out there in this, helping with the horses. What if something happened to you? What if a tree fell or..."
"You're the one the tree fell on," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm fine. We're both fine."
He helped me into his truck, and the warmth inside felt like heaven after the chaos of the storm.
Getting back to the cottage was treacherous.
Tree branches littered the road, flooding in low spots, wind that threatened to push us off the track.
But Gage navigated it all with steady hands and the kind of quiet competence that reminded me why I'd fallen in love with him in the first place.
The cottage felt like a sanctuary when we finally made it home. Warm and dry and safe, insulated from the violence raging outside.
"Let me look at you," Gage said, his hands running over my face, my arms, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm okay. Just scared." My voice was still shaky. "I kept thinking about all the things I should have said to you this morning, all the things I would regret if something happened to either of us."
He cupped my face in his hands, and I could see my own desperate relief reflected in his eyes. "I was terrified," he admitted. "When I got home and you weren't here, when I couldn't reach you..."
"I'm here now."
"You're here now," he repeated, and then he was kissing me with all the fear and relief and desperate love that had been building between us for the past two hours.
I kissed him back with the same intensity, my hands fisting in his wet shirt, pulling him closer. When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I could see something raw and desperate in his eyes that matched exactly what I was feeling.
"I need you," I said, my voice rough with want and relief and the kind of desperate hunger that comes from thinking you might lose something precious. "Right now. I need to feel alive, to prove that we're both here and safe and together."
I was already pulling at his shirt, my fingers fumbling with the wet fabric.
He lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me toward the bedroom, both of us still dripping wet from the rain but neither of us caring about anything except the desperate need to be connected.
He set me down beside the bed, his hands immediately going to the buttons of my blouse. "You're shaking," he said softly.
"I'm okay," I said, but my hands were trembling as I worked at his belt. "I just... I need you, Gage. I need to feel you."
He understood. This wasn't about gentle lovemaking or sweet romance.
This was about desperation and relief. The primal need to affirm life after staring down the possibility of loss.
This was about passion in its rawest form, about two people who'd been terrified of losing each other and now needed to prove, with their bodies and their breath and their desperate hunger, that they were both alive and together.
When his mouth found mine again, it was with a fierce intensity that took my breath away.
His hands were everywhere. Tangling in my wet hair, tracing the curve of my spine, making quick work of the rest of my clothes until I was standing before him with nothing but want and desperate love shining in my eyes.
"Beautiful," he murmured against my throat, his lips trailing fire along my skin. "So damn beautiful, Billie."
I worked his shirt off his shoulders, my hands exploring the solid warmth of him, the proof that he was here and whole. When he lifted me onto the bed, I pulled him down with me, needing his weight, his heat, the reassuring solidity of his body covering mine.
There was no slow build this time, no careful exploration. This was hunger and desperation and the kind of passion that burned away everything except the essential truth of what we meant to each other.
When he entered me, we both gasped at the intensity of it. Not just physical but emotional, the relief and love and desperate gratitude all mixing together until I couldn't tell where one feeling ended and another began.
"Look at me," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I need to see your eyes."
I looked up at him, seeing my own desperation reflected back at me, along with something deeper. Love and commitment and the unshakeable certainty that this was right, that we were right, that nothing could tear us apart again.
We moved together with a fierce urgency, both of us driven by the need to connect, to affirm, to prove that we were alive and together and stronger than any storm that tried to tear us apart.
When I felt myself climbing toward release, I dug my nails into his shoulders, holding on to him like an anchor in the chaos of sensation.
"I love you," I gasped, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "I love you so much, Gage."
"I love you too," he said fiercely, his movements becoming more desperate, more urgent. "Always, Billie. Always."
When we came apart together, it was with an intensity that left us both shaking, clinging to each other as if we could somehow merge into one person, one heart, one life that could never be separated again.
Afterward, we lay tangled together in the darkness, listening to the storm rage outside while we held each other close. The desperation had faded, replaced by a deep, bone-deep satisfaction and the kind of peace that comes from knowing you're exactly where you belong.
We fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other while the storm gradually spent its fury outside.
And when we woke up the next morning to bright sunshine and the sound of birds singing, it was to discover that a massive tree had fallen across the house renovation site, crushing part of the roof and setting our timeline back by months.
But somehow, lying in bed with Gage's arms around me and the certainty of our future settling warm and sure in my chest, even that setback felt like just another adventure we'd face together.
The storm had passed. We were both here, both whole, both ready for whatever came next.
And for the first time since he'd come home, I wasn't afraid of the future anymore.