STORM
JESS
The TV cast a dim glow over the apartment as I sat beside Laura, clutching the remote so tightly my fingers were numb. The news channel’s monotonous voice was barely audible over the drumming of Laura’s nails on the coffee table. Each tap echoed louder than the last as if counting down to the next breaking update.
We’d been watching the same footage for the last hour:
Blurry shots of rain–lashed skies
Wind–bending palm trees
Waterlogged streets swallowing entire neighborhoods
Luke’s plane was somewhere out there–right in the heart of the storm. I swallowed the tightness in my throat and forced a reassuring smile.
“They’re fine, Laura,” I whispered, reaching over to still her hand. “They’re probably rerouted, or they’ll land somewhere safe until the weather clears up. It’s just… just a delay.”
Laura’s eyes were wide, unblinking, locked on the screen. “A delay? Jess, look at that!” She pointed at the looping footage, her voice quivering. “They’re saying this storm is… it’s one of the worst in years. And–and they were heading right into it.”
My gut twisted at her words, and I took a shaky breath. I had to
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STORM
keep her calm. “It’s just a tropical storm,” I said, as much for myself as for her. “Planes deal with these things all the time. They wouldn’t take any chances with the team’s safety.”
Laura shook her head, her voice wavering. “You don’t understand. I tried calling the airport, Jess. They… they wouldn’t tell me anything. Just kept saying they didn’t have the information I was looking for.”
I nodded, trying to keep my tone level. “They’ll call as soon as they know something, I promise. Airports are always cautious about giving updates until they have all the details.”
Laura bit her lip, casting a quick glance at her phone as if it might magically light up with the news. “You’re right,” she mumbled, barely a whisper, but I could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “It’s just… this trip… Josh and I were fighting just before. Yesterday, I almost threw a paintbrush at him. What if… What if…” Laura couldn’t finish her sentence.
Her–voice broke, and she wrapped her arms around herself. For a second, I didn’t know what to say. My own fear was curling inside me like smoke, dark and toxic, threatening to choke me. But I couldn’t fall apart. Not now.
I reached for Laura’s hand, gripping it tightly. “They’ll be fine, okay? They’ll walk through that door with a million stories about how they braved the storm, probably laughing at us for worrying so much.”
Laura laughed–a small, broken sound, but at least it was something. “Josh would do that,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “He’d make it into some grand, ridiculous story.”
STORM
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