Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I got down to her eye level. “Okay, Fin. It’s windy and rainy and really scary out there, okay?”
She nodded, but her mouth trembled.
“We have to go because Grandma’s house isn’t high enough to keep you dry. So we have to get to my house. Understand?” I zipped up her raincoat.
She nodded.
“I need you to listen really carefully and do exactly as I say, and sometimes it might be scary, but we’re going to be okay. I’m going to take Grandma to the truck, and I want you to wait right here until I come get you.” I needed Finley in the safest place, and right now, that was the house. In an hour, it wouldn’t be.
“My mommy left,” she whispered, tightening her grip on Juno’s carrier.
I bit back the anger that saturated my tongue when I thought about Claire heading to an audition. That was the last thing Finley needed.
I cupped her cheeks in my hands. “I. Will. Not. Leave. You. Not now. Not today. Not ever. I promise.”
“Because you love Daddy?” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I love you. I came all the way back—that’s how much I love you. I even made a policeman very mad to get to you. I won’t leave you, Fin. You’re the only reason I’m here.” I wiped her tears with my thumbs. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“You wait right here with Juno. Promise.”
“I promise.”
The winds blew impossibly harder, and the rain fell in driving sheets as I took Vivian out of the house, dragging her by her armpits. “Hold onto the bag,” I ordered her, and she pulled Fin’s pets closer. Then I walked backward down the steps, dragging her along at an angle so that the two-by-four slid instead of thumped.
“Hold on!” I shouted once we made it to the bottom.
A trampoline flew by, flipping end-over-end down the road.
Don’t even think about it. Just keep moving.
I got the back door open, and with Vivian hopping, we managed to get her across the backseat. “Buckle up! I’m grabbing Fin!” I shut the door, which was no easy feat, even given the shelter from the garage.
I raced up the stairs and looked out over the neighborhood from the top of the deck. The surge was here. Water pushed in with each wave, and it had already overtaken the houses up the block.
The dune will protect your house. You can get there.
I threw open the door and held my arms out for Fin, silently thanking Jackson for buying her backpack carrier.
Fin rushed at me with obvious relief, and I lifted her into my arms. “Do you have your phone?”
She nodded. “But not my clothes. They’re upstairs.”
“We don’t need them. Okay, hold on tight, Fin. No matter what. Understand?” I locked one arm under her butt and clamped the other one around her back. Then I took the little girl I loved more than the world out into the storm.
She plastered her face against my neck as I made my way down the steps, careful not to slip. Everything was slick. I opened the driver’s door and lifted her inside. “Crawl over the console.”
She did it.
I climbed in and grunted as I hauled the door shut. It closed, thank God.
“I’m not allowed to ride in the front seat.” Fin looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“And without a booster, too.” I shrugged. “I’m hoping your dad will forgive me.” Wasn’t I just mother of the year? Or stepmother. Or quasi-not-quite-girlfriend-current-custody-haver. Whatever.
“Buckle up,” I ordered as I did the same. She put Juno’s carrier on the ground and buckled. Then I drove through the grass of Vivian’s front yard. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t mention it,” she said from the backseat. Her voice was weak, and I knew that both bracing her broken leg and moving her down to the truck had taken what little strength she had left.
It was impossible to see. The rain drove straight at us. I memorized as much as I could between the squalls and crept carefully onto NC 12.
“Oh my word,” Vivian exclaimed from the backseat.
“What’s that?” Finley asked.
“Hold on,” I ordered, watching the huge shape fly toward us. The wind took it left, and I swerved right.
“I think that was a roof,” Vivian said softly.
I was too busy gulping for breaths to say anything.
We passed the bakery I loved, and the auto parts store as the wind and rain tore at us, pushing us the way it wanted us to go as I fought to keep us on the road. There was a lot more water now. But it looked like rainwater. There was no foam.
We turned onto Old Lighthouse Road, and I cringed. Here was the foam blowing in from the ocean in giant streaks of white between the huge beach houses. Sand had blown all over the road, making it hard to see the edges.